Windrunner's Daughter (18 page)

The Waller shrugged at Wren’s hard look and Adler carried on.

“We don’t know how the illness started and we can’t risk it spreading until we find a cure. If your brothers landed on the main platform they were taken into custody to prevent them from spreading the plague.” He rubbed his mouth. “If this thing
does
spread it could wipe us out. Every colony: every last human on the planet. We might as well walk into the sand. We have to keep it trapped
here
.”

“
If
it spreads.” Raw’s voice was a pale echo and Wren pictured her dying mother.

Wren swallowed. “But … are my brothers ill?”

The Lister consulted his tablet. Shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Then you have to let them out. Send them home before they catch it.” Panic pounded through her veins and sent her heart racing.

The Lister stroked his bag as if it were a restless baby. “You Runners live in a different world, don’t you? None of us can escape it, so why should you? Just because yer brothers aren’t ill now, doesn’t mean they aren’t carrying. They could fall ill tonight, or tomorrow. They’re going nowhere.” His mouth flattened and he glared around the room. “We don’t know for sure where the plague came from but we’ve got ideas. It came from you Runners, from yer travels.”

The Runner men grunted as if he’d struck them and the Lister narrowed his eyes. “Maybe they made it in Aaru - all their work with drugs - or in Paradise, or the Arcadians started it by messing around modifying another Martian species. Maybe it’s a local virus brought to life by the current stage of terra-forming, like Caro’s. We don’t know, but we’re checking our records right now for surges in illness after landings. Once we can prove this is yer fault …” He fell silent, as if only then realising that he was surrounded by the very people he was insulting.

Adler started forward and The Lister shouldered his way past Saqr and out of the door. His bald head floated briefly in the darkness then the night wrapped itself around him and he was gone.

Wren stared at the men glowering murderously after the Lister.

“What does the Lister do that’s so important?” she whispered.

Saqr turned to her with tragedy on his face. “He’s our record keeper. Right now he’s mostly keeping lists of the dead.”

“It’s bad in there.” The Sphere-Mistress nodded in the direction of the walled Vaikuntha. “Really bad.”

“Is it true?” This time Wren turned to Orel, her eyes pleading. “Is it possible that
we
spread this? Runners I mean.”

Orel stepped towards her, his face dark. “They can’t know for sure. If it’s like Caro’s it could be carried in infected seed - that’s how it started in Olympus. But it could be airborne, or carried by Martian bugs - anything. They haven't identified the vector yet. They don’t even know if the plague
is
anywhere else, so how can they blame us for bringing it here?”

“For
spreading
it,” Raw spat. “He’s right. Runners could be carrying it around the colonies - to
Elysium,
Wren.” He shook her bruised elbow until she pulled away with a hiss.

    “I
know
.” Tears sprung to her eyes. She didn’t dare believe her mother’s illness was caused by the Runners. If Mia had this plague the whole colony was in danger. She thought of the man coughing at the Doctor’s surgery, had it already moved from Avalon to Elysium? But how was
that
possible? No, sometimes a cough was only a cough.

Another thought struck her like a rock to the chest: she had to hide the truth of her mother’s illness from these people. If they thought Wren was already a carrier she’d be quarantined and left with no chance of finding a cure.

The weight of her secrets was suddenly too much and she sank onto one of the chairs. “What do we do?” She looked at Raw. “Fly on? If the plague is elsewhere, someone else will have a cure, won’t they? What about Aaru?”

For a moment there was silence. Raw turned towards the door as if he was considering the wings leaning on the wall outside and wondering how much further he could go.

Then Orel sighed. “We
have
a cure.”

“Orel!” Genna lurched forward.

Orel shrugged. “Why shouldn’t they know?” He held Wren’s eyes with his own. “Vaikunthan biologists have been working day and night. The first patient’s fever broke during the dust-storm.” He held up his hand to subdue her elation. “We have something that works, but not
enough
of it
.
Not even close. We don’t have enough ingredients and we lost the auto synthesiser for manufacturing years ago. Everything’s slow time now. The Council’s favourites'll be all right perhaps, but the rest of the colony … I don’t know what'll happen to them.”

“
That’s
what you found out?” Genna looked stricken and her skirt suffered another series of brutal twists. “How?”

Orel squinted across the room at her. “People don’t look up. You’d be amazed what you can hear from a rooftop.” His eyes were bleak. “The Council needs scapegoats. When the rest of the settlement realise the cure isn’t reaching em the Council plan to aim their anger somewhere else - at the quarantined Runners.”

“Their anger …” This time Wren’s voice created the echo. “It doesn’t matter how the disease is spread, they’re going to blame us anyway.”

“I think so.”

“How much time do we have?” Adler’s fists were clenched in front of him, as if he planned to personally rip through the walls of the biosphere.

Orel shrugged. “They’re looking fer proof, anything they can use. If a Runner comes in with news of plague elsewhere, or if they
can
find evidence …” He exhaled. “Not long.”

His words rung in Wren’s mind -
news of plague elsewhere
– shaking, she dropped her head into her hands. They could not tell them about Tir Na Nog, not if it was possible that the plague had destroyed the colony. Her mother was dying of what sounded like the same illness. Her brothers were about to be thrown to an angry mob, and she was pretending to be a Runner, leaving herself open to the most horrifying of punishments. “What am I doing?” she murmured.

“What?” Orel frowned at her.

“I-I –”

Raw grabbed her hands, pulled them from her face and shook her. “Get a grip, Wren.”    

Suddenly Adler leaned over her, throwing a twisted shadow on the wall. “You’re not a real Runner are you?”

Raw spun to face him. “Don’t be ridiculous, man.”

“Not you.” Adler growled at him. “That one.” He indicated Wren with a tilt of his head. “He’s far too young to be Running. No muscles where a real Runner would have ‘em.” Abruptly he crouched so he and Wren were eye-to-eye. She flinched. “You took those wings without permission, dint you, boy?”

Wren’s breath caught, but … Adler had called her ‘boy’. He thought she was too young to Run; he did not suspect the truth. Still holding her breath, she gave a tiny nod. Raw edged closer to her side and Wren’s eyes widened. It almost looked as if he was ready to protect her. Perhaps she could trust him not to give her up.

She swallowed. “What are you going to do to me?” Involuntarily she glanced at Raw.

Adler straightened. His eyes slid past the Sphere-Mistress and the Waller, to the other Runner men.

Genna folded her arms. “We can’t have wings going without permission.”

Wren pressed herself into her seat.

Orel nodded towards Raw. “At least they were partner-Running. And they are looking for other Runners.”

Adler sighed. “There’s protocol. If the last Runner in a settlement is lost, the Council have to wait for the next arrival, then they can send a message to Convocation for a replacement.”

Saqr wrung his hands. “So many Runners are in quarantine here.”

“We haven’t had a Runner in for weeks,” Wren whispered.

Raw raised his chin defiantly. “How long should we have waited? No harm has been done. We did a partner-Run and we did it fine.”

Wren looked at Adler with pleading in her eyes. “I know I did wrong,” she murmured.

Saqr caught Adler’s arm. “He’s only a boy - a Runner boy - one of our own. These times ain't normal.”

“So we should ignore the law?” Genna narrowed her eyes.

Saqr spoke to Adler. “We can’t make a decision like this without the Patriarch, brother, and there’re more important things to talk about than disobedient children. What do we do about the quarantined Runners? If we don’t get em out of the settlement -”

“They’ll be killed.” Raw stated the fact unemotionally, but his eyes slid to Wren and her expression made him flinch.

“More than that.” Saqr looked miserable. “When Convocation finds out what they’ve done here, it’ll be war between Runners and Grounders.”

Wren’s eyes widened. The Runners would refuse to fly and trade would end. The baby exchange would vanish and inbreeding would decimate the Colonies within generations. In return the Runners would lose their support and they would starve. It could be the end of everything.

“We have to get them out,” she whispered.

“Yes, we do.” Orel nodded. “But feelings against Runners are running high. They’ll have blocked off my usual route in and out by now. I barely made it out this time.” Genna gasped but Orel shook waved a hand. “I’m fine, mother, and I have another way in, remember. I’ll have to start usin it.”

Adler nodded. “So, we use your ‘other way’ to go for the others.”

Orel shook his head. “No offence, big man, but
you
can’t get in my way and the other Runners can’t get out.” He looked at Wren and Raw. “There’re only two here who could go with me.”

Raw closed his hand over Wren’s shoulder. “It’s too dangerous.”

Wren whirled around. “Since when do you tell me what to do?” She stepped to Orel’s side. “I’m going after my brothers.”

Raw hesitated. “At least rest one night.” He appealed to Genna. “We’ve been flying non-stop. Surely nothing can happen tonight.”

Genna looked at her son. “What do you think?”

Orel shrugged. “A day to plan - it might be a good idea. I can’t break the others out on my own – we need em.”

Wren nodded. “All right then, one night to rest.” She sighed as the idea of sleep brought a flood of weariness. Head in her hands she wondered how her mother was and if she’d managed to eat anything. She would be expecting her home around now.

 Fingertips pressed against her neckline. “Are you sure about this?” Raw’s voice was low and deep.

Wren spoke into her palms. “My brothers are in there and -” She stopped herself before she mentioned the cure. “I’m going in,” she snapped.

    Raw sighed. “Fine.” He turned to Raw. “We’ll go with you tomorrow.”

Chapter fourteen

“It’s a reasonable request, Chayton. The children are old enough not to need their mother so much. The girl could even come with her. She could enter the Women’s Sector like a respectable female instead of training for this unnatural life.”

Wren was beneath the Runner-sphere, balancing a pile of smooth rocks, when the voice floated up the path.

Her father’s footsteps crunched on the gale-loosened gravel but the sound of his tread was offset by a quicker, heavier step she didn’t quite recognise. These must belong to the owner of the voice. Strange; it sounded like her grandfather, but he never left Elysium.

The men didn’t know she was there. A thrill shivered to her toes, she was hearing something she shouldn’t. Kicking over her rock tower she wriggled further into the shadows; maybe she could hear more.

“I’m not talking about this any longer. You asked me to meet with you, I heard your ‘reasonable request’ and I denied it.”

Wren clenched her fists, her father’s tone held a clear warning to the speaker; he had to back off.

“Chayton, you aren’t thinking. She’s given you children: two boys to be Runners and, if you insist on keeping the child at Avalon, a girl to bear more. She’s met your needs, your line will continue. Now let her go.”

Let who go? Were they talking about Mother? Did she want to leave?

Anxiously Wren wormed her way to the front of the house. There she saw her father and Grandfather. She clenched her fists to her chest, fighting not to cry out: ‘she doesn’t want to go, you nasty old man, she doesn’t want to leave us.’

“There’s a good partnership waiting for Mia in the settlement if you let her go. The man has waited a number of years for you to grow tired of her.”

Wren shoved her knuckles into her mouth to stifle a gasp and saw her father’s shoulders shoot back.

Then her eyes widened as her grandfather’s face crumpled. His shoulders slumped as though someone had cut an invisible set of strings and his voice was almost a whisper. “I’m only going to beg once, Chayton. We miss her. Please, let her come back to the Dome.”

Her father shook his head and she saw him spread his hands. When he spoke his voice was astonishingly gentle. “Win, she wouldn’t go.”

“Have you asked her? Have you?”

Her father shook his head and made no reply.

What did that mean? Wren held her breath. Had he asked her, or not? Did her mother yearn to leave Avalon and live in the Dome again? She leaned forward until the sunlight teased her fingertips.

“Well then.” Her Grandfather glanced down at his tunic and slowly flattened the material against his thighs. When he looked back up his face was once more set in hard lines. “Aside from Council business you’ll not hear from me. Mia’s no longer my daughter, she’s a Runner. Make no mistake I’ll have nothing more to do with her, or any of your brood.” He raised his voice until it carried into the house. “You hear, Runner? Don’t ever come crying to me, because you’ll get nothing.”

Wren woke with a gasp. She was curled up under the table with Raw’s shirt gripped in her fists like an old blanket. Despite the eerie calls of the Creatures, the snores of the other Runners and the pressure of Raw’s O
₂
canister against hers, Wren had fallen asleep almost immediately, exhaustion dragging her under. Perhaps it wasn’t strange that this particular memory would resurface now. She should have remembered it earlier; recalled Grandfather’s warning against asking him for help.