Windrunner's Daughter (25 page)

Wren swallowed. “We didn’t just come for the two of you. The Council here are going to blame the Runners for spreading the plague. We think they’re going to execute you … us.” Colm hissed through his teeth and Wren nodded miserably. “We’ve got till dawn.”

Her brothers leaped up and scanned the cell as if a way out would present itself. Restlessly Jay’s hands searched the airlock door as if the metal would melt under his touch.

Colm’s cheeks were so pale they looked transparent. “Father was right. They think they don’t need us any more.”

“What are you doing, Wren? Come to the greenbelt.”

“Shush.” Wren waved. “Listen to this.”

Jay crouched next to his sister and they pressed their heads against the curve of the wall. After a moment he groaned and stood. “It’s only Father and that Runner. What do you want to listen to them for? Anyway, we were told to make ourselves scarce until he left.”

“Why do you think I’m listening?” Wren grinned.

Jay tugged at her arm. “You’ll get in trouble if Father sees you. He told us to go away as soon as he saw him over the Runway; he even made Mother leave Avalon.”

Wren tossed her hair over her shoulders and pushed him off. “Don’t you want to know why?”

Jay shook his head. “Not really, it’ll be boring business.”

“Go to the belt then. I’ll join you in a little bit.”

Jay huffed out his cheeks and turned away. His footsteps receded along the cliff path and Wren tuned him out as her father’s voice grew louder.

“I’m not asking for greater payment, Ira. I don’t want to discuss this with you again.”

“We should get more for what we do.” The man’s voice was whiney and rasping. Wren curled her lip and wondered what he looked like.

“We have enough. We have food and clothing and we can maintain our equipment, what more do we need?”

“We should live better than the Councillors, Chayton. We have the power but we give it to them for free. Runners living like this, it’s criminal.”

“We have a duty to our colony, Ira.”

“Bah.”

Wren heard the man’s heavy footsteps on the floorboards. He was pacing. Her father’s voice was muffled; he must have turned away from the wall, or perhaps covered his face. She pressed her ear harder to the sphere.

“I know things have got more difficult recently, Ira and that’s why we’re having these talks. But asking for more isn’t a solution.” She heard a thud. When her father got impassioned he often thumped the furniture. “It used to be that the Councils and Runners worked together, agreeing which Runs would be best for the colonies.”

“But they no longer ask, Chayton. They demand. It’s been a long time since any of us were treated as equals by the Councils.”

Wren’s father groaned. “I know. They risk our lives as if they were nothing, sending us on pointless Runs. Did you hear about the Arcadian?”

There was a pause and Wren held her breath.

Ira’s voice filled in the blank space. “I heard. He was sent out too close to the dust storm and crashed carrying a bolt of cloth for the head of their Women’s Sector.” There was a pause and the footfalls stopped. “See, Chayton, that’s what I’m talking about.”

“It’s wrong, but I don’t know what we can do. Being as greedy as they are won’t help.”

“We can do Runs for ourselves, not for them.”

“Why, because it’s better to die carrying a pointless luxury if it’s for other Runners? You’d better leave, Ira, because I won’t do it.”

“You’ve no choice, Chayton, the other Patriarchs are in agreement and Convocation will debate on it soon. We have to demand more from the colonies, it’s the best way to regain the respect of the Councils. If they see us living like beggars they’ll continue to treat us like servants. When they see us living like them, they’ll treat us as equals. Maybe more - why shouldn’t we be in charge? When the communication arrays finally go, we could be kings.” He paused. “And why shouldn’t the communications arrays break sooner rather than later?”

Her father’s gasp was loud enough for even Wren to hear through the wall. “You’re talking about Sabotage? Don’t mention that in front of me again!”

Sabotage - the dirtiest word in the Martian lexicon. Wren covered her mouth.

“All right, I was only thinking out loud.” Ira’s voice faded, but Wren knew he hadn’t just been ‘thinking out loud’. He had been feeling Chayton out. Other Runners must have agreed with him.

She tried to think objectively about his proposal. What would it be like if Runners were kings of Mars? What would it mean for them? She looked round. Would she really want to spend time telling Grounders what to do? How boring. Avalon couldn’t be built any bigger; their biosphere was the size it was and there was no enlarging it. They couldn’t have more things; where would they put them? More food? There was a good reason there were no fat Runners. Maybe a few new clothes would be nice, but she’d only ruin them when she climbed down the Mons-side to mend the nets. She shook her head and heard the airlock start to cycle open. Quickly she scrabbled round the side of the ‘sphere and threw herself under the porch.

After a while she saw the figure of a Runner soaring into the currents, shrinking to nothing as he flew away. She toyed with her hair, teasing it between her fingers, playing a solitary game of cat’s cradle. She waited until she was sure her father had gone; then shimmied out of the crawl space and climbed thoughtfully down the path to look for her brothers.

River water had created a damp patch on the bunk where Wren was sitting with her brothers. She didn’t try to move somewhere drier; Jay’s fingers twined in what was left of her hair as he tried to untangle the knots. He made little sounds of grief as he encountered each ragged curl and tried to pull the short length over his fingers.

Wren inhaled as footsteps beyond the barred window of their cell. She looked out. The light was changing from black to grey. Dawn wasn’t far off; they’d been talking most of the night.

Colm
looked at her, his eyes almost black in the burgeoning light. “You say they have a cure?”

Wren dug her nails into the struts of the rickety bunk. “Yes, but no way to synthesize enough.”

“Why aren’t they sending samples to Aaru or Paradise to ask for help making more?” Jay whispered.

Wren sighed. “Quarantine. They’re worried anyone they send might spread the plague further. It’s almost … noble.” She sighed. “And … I guess they aren’t thinking clearly. They believe we brought the plague. They hate us - and they need us here if they want to carry out a punishment.” She rubbed her aching eyes. “If any of us escapes we have to find the cure, or head straight to Aaru to see if they have anything.” Her exhaustion caught up with her and she slumped. “But we’ve had no Runners to Avalon from Aaru either. If they’ve not been quarantined here, the situation there could be just as bad.”

“We aren’t going to escape, are we?” Jay stroked the last of the tangles from her hair. Now he could get his fingers through the curls without Wren flinching and she knew the small task had soothed him a little.

Colm’s fists were on his knees. He sat, staring out of the window, as if carved in stone.

Wren’s eyes wanted to close, but every time her eyelids drooped, terrible images chased their way across the darkness and they sprung open again: Mother breathing her last as she waited fruitlessly for Wren to return, Father returning from Convocation and flying into Vaikuntha to find the wingless corpses of his children hanging from the walls.

Her fists flexed under her chin and she wished she could sleep. Beyond their window a sliver of sky peeked through one of the unused windbreaks. Wren could see tongues of pink licking at the grey. Phobos was still overhead, but the sun was rising.

Chapter twenty

Sounds from the corridor outside propelled them to their feet.

“They’re coming,” Wren whispered.

Colm pulled Jay up beside him. Her younger brother had his fists closed so tightly that his knuckles looked like pebbles straining against his skin. Wren tried to stand by them, her own hands raised, but Colm shoved her behind him.

“You’re my little sister,” he murmured and the look in his eyes made her stand back.

They heard a hiss. Then the airlock cycled open.

Silhouettes became a pair of guards. There were smudges beneath their eyes and, as Wren took in the sweat stains and smears of dirt on their uniforms, she felt another twinge. But when the men saw the three Runners up and waiting for them, their cruel smiles killed Wren’s sympathy.

Boots thudded as the bigger of two aimed himself towards Colm.

Jay’s throat bobbed as he faced the shorter, rounder man who smiled as he advanced.

Wren flew round Jay, slipped between the guards, who turned too slowly to catch her, and hurtled into the corridor.

There she stumbled to a halt. Along the line of cells bleary-eyed Runners, more than she had ever seen in one place, were being shackled together. How long had Vaikuntha been collecting Runners who were foolish enough to land? No wonder none had reached Elysium for weeks.

Before she could break into a run again, a rough hand caught the back of her neck.

She tried to see who had her but a thumb dug into the pressure point under her ear and she cried out. Unable to wriggle free she had to stand, cringing and gasping as her left arm was yanked behind her back. Metal circled her wrist then the weight of a chain pulled her hand down as it was released.

“This one’s small.” The man holding her squeezed a little tighter. “I’ve had to wrap the chain twice.”

Another voice rasped from her left, but she couldn’t turn her head to see who spoke. “He’ll just have to walk closer to the one behind. It won’t be for long.”

The hand released her and, simultaneously, someone shoved the small of her back. She stumbled, but the chain round her left wrist jerked her to a stop. She whipped her head round to look for her brothers.

They were behind her, flanked by the guards who had entered their cell. Their arms were already manacled and Colm was holding his forearm, his face pained and drawn. She hadn’t even heard him cry out.

A thickset guard waggled the other end of Wren’s chain; then looped it through Jay’s. She focused on her brother; it was a mistake; the panic in his blue eyes made her own rise like dust in a storm.

“Move.”

The column jerked into motion, guided by kicks and prods. The Runner in front of Wren jolted into a shambling walk and Wren’s left arm jerked forward, pulling at Jay’s. Immediately her brother bumped into her back; the shortened length of chain between them allowed no leeway. Quickly she shuffled her feet and fell into step, with Jay’s toes catching at her heels. The fearful pant of her brother’s breath frizzed the curls that lay on her neck and she shivered as the Runners were forced, cursing and stumbling, down the corridor, round a corner and through a huge portal.

Awe consumed Wren as they entered the chamber beyond the archway. She’d known the building was big, but hadn’t expected anything like this. The ceiling was so high she could barely make it out; only gatherings of shadows clinging to dark recesses told her that the chamber ended at all.

Windows pocked the walls around them. Through them, Wren could see the sun’s corona glimmer through the biosphere; setting wisps of cloud on fire as it rose.

    Between the windows, solar lights shed orange on a row of iron posts that protruded from the floor in front of a raised platform. The posts cast shadows that pointed finger-like towards a single empty cage in the very centre of the room. Swiftly put together from what looked like canopy joists, it hung ever so slightly above the floor, high enough for it to swing with an ominous creak.

The door banged shut on the last of the Runners and Wren anxiously peered along the line.

“What’re you doing?” Jay hissed. “Stop drawing attention to yourself.”

“Where’s Orel?” Wren craned her neck, seeking his face among all the gaunt and bruised Runners. “He has to be here.”

“Colm?” Jay breathed over his shoulder. “You’re taller, can you see him?”

Wren heard the murmur of Colm’s denial.

“Where is he?” She bit her lip.

“Maybe he got away.” Jay squeezed her elbow, meaning to be comforting and she flinched. The pressure on her bruised skin reminded her of Raw and tears sprung to her eyes. If Orel had been killed, there was no-one to rescue Raw from the chamber beneath the wall. He would die down there.

A loud crash and a torrent of swearing and yelling made the line of Runners jump. Chains rattled as all eyes turned towards the sound. A second set of figures were hustled through the main entrance and hauled towards the posts.

“Adler,” Wren gasped as he roared and tried to pull free. A guard ran from Wren’s line to club him and he went to his knees as another wrapped the chain holding his wrists to the stake in front of him.

Behind him stood all the Runners from the station outside the wall, including The Sphere-Mistress, Genna, who stared, wide-eyed and stupid, her feet twitching beneath her skirt like frightened snakes.

Wren stumbled and Jay caught her. “This is my fault,” she murmured, horrified. “Adler wanted to Run to Convocation and I wouldn’t let him. Orel said we’d be able to get you all out. He said there wouldn’t be a problem.” Her voice broke. “Now look.”

Her eyes went to Genna again. The woman was staring around her, shocked into stillness.

“Why are you all just standing there?” Colm’s voice rang around the walls. “Fight for your lives.”

Runners raised their heads in sudden realisation.

The redheaded Runner chained in front of Wren turned and looked directly at her, as if he thought she had the answers.

“He’s right,” she whispered. “They’re going to kill us.”

Although dulled and weakened by weeks or perhaps even months in his cell, the Runner lurched into motion, lunging for the nearest guard. But the Runner ahead of him had twisted the other way.

Wren was yanked off her feet as the panicked Runners tried to fight and simply brought themselves down in a heap. Guards laughed as they grabbed chains and shackled the Runners to the line of posts. When the jowly guard reached Wren, however, a shout from the platform stopped him.