The Wastelands (Part II of the Runner Series)

Chapter 12

The Wasters' habit of taking a very long time to speak becomes more infuriating as the seconds drag on. The past day has been a true exercise in restraint as once again I find myself biting my tongue in an effort to quell my natural instinct to fill the silence with a biting remark.

The oversized chieftain finally nods towards me, ever so imperceptibly. "Welcome."

I blink. "Thank you." In my nervousness I swallow a comment about the less-than-stellar hospitality I've experienced thus far.

"My brother tells me that you are an interesting talent. Please, eat and let us discuss what has brought you here." He picks up a knife and fork and indicates that I do the same.

I pick up my fork and knife gratefully. The meat is tough but flavourful, unfamiliar to my tongue. I neglect the skills Will taught me about eating as a lady and shove helping after helping into my mouth, relishing in the feeling of quieting my empty stomach.

When I've had my fill I sigh and sit back, running my wrist across my mouth. I glance across the table and notice the chief looking back at me, chewing thoughtfully.

"Delicious food." I say, by way of conversation.

He makes a gesture and someone refills my plate. I allow a grin to pull at my face and dig in again, eating more slowly and carefully this time. Typical that the first impression I will give the Waster chief is one of abject gluttony.

"Your name is Kay." His deep voice cuts through the scrape of cutlery against tin plates and I look up, putting my fork down and giving him my full attention.

"Yes," I swallow. "Kay Knight."

He nods. "I am Jaron. I am the chief, here at Pic dil Cir."

I wonder fleetingly how many Waster camps exist and how they vary in size, storing my questions away for later.

"Jaron. Thank you for meeting with me." My eyes dart between Rowan and Luca, both sitting in silence as they watch our exchange. "I assume someone has told you why my friends and I are looking for you?"

"What I have been told is that you are under the impression that we are interested in negotiating peace with your people." He tilts his head, the gesture reminding me of Luca's curious mannerisms. "My advisors believe that your only use is as a hostage. They think that we can exchange you in return for our missing brethren."

"And what is it that you think?" I ask.

"It is no secret that the Wasters and Miners have always been enemies." Jaron leans back slightly in his seat and rubs his scruffy chin. I notice that his large hands have been wrapped in strips of leather and derive that this is a man who is very comfortable holding a weapon.

"Our ancestors have been enemies, yes," I respond hurriedly. "But I am not my kin and I can promise that I do not have a personal quarrel with you." I bite my lip, cursing my tongue and wishing I possessed some of the cool restraint that Meg wields so effortlessly.

"Do you suppose then, Kay, that we forget our old fights and move past it with no ill will?" Jaron's tone straddles the dangerous line between curious and accusing. I force my strained nerves to steady and speak carefully.

"We cannot and should not forget the past." I hear myself say, thinking of my scars. "Both the Wasters and the City have survived post-Burn because we understood the price of repeating our mistakes. I am suggesting that we remember what's happened but try to move forward."

"And what of our missing people? I have no guarantee that your City is not responsible for their capture."

"We will help you find your people." I make the promise without thinking, eager to press on. "Come with me to the City, meet my Queen. You can look around; see for yourself that no one is being held there. Make peace with us and you will have our resources at your disposal."