The Runner (Part I of the Runner Series)

Chapter 29

To my delight, a slow, impish grin spreads over Marc's face. "Finally," he says.

I snort with laughter, unable to stop myself. "That's the best response I could ask for." Take that, Lara.

"How are we going about it?" he asks.

I could hug him for his use of the word "we."

"For now, I need to spread the word that there's going to be a meeting tonight at the Beacon. We'll give all the details then." I widen my eyes in question: "Can you help me gather people to come?"

"Absolutely," he says assertively. He drains his ale and looks about the shop. "In fact, I can do you one better. I've got a little cousin who runs like the wind and positively worships you. I'll find her and I guarantee that she'll spread the word like wildfire."

"Commoners only," I tell him. "Just the ones you trust. My friend, Will, is gathering the dependable courtiers; we don't want the wrong people getting wind of this."

"Will. He's the tall one who helped you at the ball, right?"

"That's right."

"Hmm." He looks thoughtful, regarding me. "You know, I can't put my finger on it, but I swear I know him from somewhere."

"Really? It's possible. He fought in the Wastelands—maybe you know him from there." I finish my drink and make to stand. "Are you coming?"

"Right behind you, captain."

He mock-salutes and I laugh, my earlier anxiety dissolving at his enthusiasm. Marc's eagerness is more in line with what I expected from the commoners. Together, we'll round up plenty of dissatisfied people and I'll show Lara that she is entirely wrong. People do care, they want change, and they are willing to fight for it.

With Marc's help, the word spreads quickly. He introduces me to his cousin, Ruby, a spunky little twelve-year-old who fairly shakes at the knees when I offer her my hand.

"Like I said, she's a big fan," Marc teases and she hits his arm playfully, a blush rising to her cheeks.

"Marc here tells me you're a hell of a runner," I say kindly, in an effort to alleviate the poor girl's embarrassment.

She thrusts back her scrawny shoulders. "I can run to the Palace and back in just twenty minutes," she boasts.

"Wow," I say, widening my eyes. "You must have some killer speed."

"Sure do! People give me money to run their letters and messages to their friends. I save a lot of it. Soon, I'll have enough for a brand-new pair of boots." She thrusts out one of her legs dramatically, indicating an old, patched boot worn nearly through.

"I'll tell you what," I say, unclipping my purse from my waist and tipping a few coins into my palm. "I'd like to tender your services. I'll give you what I have here," I place the coins in her hand, smiling at her bewildered stare, "if you can deliver some messages for me."

Marc offers me a scrap of parchment and we hurriedly scribble down the names of as many people we can think of, as well as where to find them. I fold the paper and hand it to Ruby, solemnly, as though it is made of something precious.

"Find these people. Tell them that the Runner will be at the Beacon tonight at nine o'clock and if they want change, they had best come." It feels a bit absurd to use my alter ego as an incentive, but Will insisted it was the best way to drum up interest. "Tell them to bring anyone they trust."

Ruby glances at the paper and tucks it into her pocket. She nods seriously. "You can count on me."

"I have no doubt. Now, get going."