Finder's Shore by Anna Mackenzie Read Free Book Online

I’ll be alone in my surprise that this should be their response.
    “Is Brenon in favour?” I ask.
    “He’ll be consulted in due course. We’ll require personnel from Scouts to support the initiative.”
    I stand up. That they’re laying their plans without talking to either Truso or Brenon feels wrong to me. It feels cavalier; it feels like Colm, back on Dunnett.
    “We’re relying on your assistance to develop an appropriate strategy,” Marta says. Her expression has hardened a little.
    I study the faces of her fellow governors, but find no variation from Marta’s cool conviction. “I need some time to think it through.”
    Marta folds her hands on the table in front of her. “I’m sure I needn’t remind you how much Vidya has done for you.”
    My spine stiffens. “You’re right. You needn’t.”
    As I close the door behind me — carefully: I’m no longer the child I once was, prone to hasty reactions — my tongue presses against my teeth, against the urge to rage at Marta. At all of them: they can’t fully understand what they’re proposing. My crutch snags on a conduit pipe as I clump into the covered walkway. I reposition it impatiently. I’m perfectly able to walk without it, but Amar was adamant that I should use my injured leg as little as possible. I’d be resting it now if Marta hadn’t summoned me.
    The noise of the courtyard swells as the outer door opens and Dev hurries through. His face lightens when he sees me. “Hello there, Ness.” The babble quiets as he closes the door. “How’s the leg?”
    “It’ll heal.” I push the ill-humour from my voice. “I’ll be glad when it does.”
    His head tilts, accentuating the lift of his brow. The first time I saw Dev, battered and half-drowned, washed up like sea-wreck on the shore of Dunnett Island, I thought him beautiful. I still do, though sun and salt winds have etched a tracery of lines around his eyes, and his hair, held back at the nape of his neck, newly holds hints of grey.
    “Listen, I have a meeting with Marta just now, but why don’t we get together later?” With his smile his face loses some of its age. “We’ve barely spoken since you got back from Ebony Hill. Amar tells me you’re thinking of a placement in research.”
    My fingers curl tight around the grip of my crutch. “It’s Amar who’s thinking of it, rather than me.” I consider him speculatively, Marta’s proposal fresh in my thoughts. “I suppose you’re part of the governers’ plan?”
    “Plan?” His brows lift in a query. “Is something wrong, Ness?”
    “Marta is hoping to establish contact with Dunnett.” Dev’s surprise appears genuine. I shrug. “She’ll doubtless explain it herself in her usual persuasive way.” I angle around him.
    “Where will you be later?” he asks.
    “Med centre probably.”
    “Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” Even as he says it, he waves the words away. “Sorry, sorry. You’re old enough to make your own decisions.” His smile, half apology, half charm, is infectious: I can’t resist returning it. It’s good, I suppose, that Dev and I have finally found a way to be friends.
    “I am.” My smile fades. “Though I’m not sure Marta shares that view.”
     
    Several times I have to rest my leg. The gash on my shin has begun to heal, the flesh tight and pink around the dark hatching of stitches. I’m still troubled by headaches and an unsettling flicker at the periphery of my vision. As best we can work out, I was hit by a log when Jofeia was clearing the Paras’ trap from the line. She had no way of knowing I was standing nearby, and I have no memory of it at all. No memory, either, of Brenon’s patrol arriving to reinforce Farra’s defence. Without them, the Paras would have taken the jigger.
    It was the mother of the little boy who first noticed I was missing, but not till the jigger was again on its way. If Farra and Ronan hadn’t come back to find me, I’d likely be in the tunnel