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Hague Publishing
presents

The Journing Plague

by

Shaune Lafferty Webb

Tricked into joining the Resistance, Journer Kai Astada is tasked with disproving their government's claim that the Journer caste is responsible for the plague now raging across Pedora. He didn't expect to upend the world in the process.

A twist on the age-old question: Are we alone in the universe?

Praise for Shaune's Safe Harbour Trilogy, also from Hague Publishing.

"There's always a sense of mystery in Lafferty Webb's work, a mystery that seems to be conveyed between the lines rather than in them. This sense of mystery gives an extra dimension to everything she writes. The plot has some lovely, imaginative developments, and the ending left me keen to read the last book in the series when it comes out."
Danielle de Valera

"Another winning book for fans of well done sci fi/fantasy novels."
The Dilettante Bookworm

"Gripped from the beginning"
DnS Media Book Reviews

"Readers will be drawn into the story from the very first page."
Diane Riggins - author of the Blood and Water series, and the Fur and Fang series

"... creative and engrossing ... death, treachery and lies are all interwoven brilliantly into the story. "
Jemma Telford - Reviewer

"It hit a lot of the right notes for me in terms of description, character development, world-building - and the twist at the end was great!"
Toni L.H. Boughton - author of Wolf Running

"Like all good speculative fiction, Web has placed very human characters into a world very different from the one we are familiar with..." Daan Spijer - thinking-allowed.com.au

The Journing Plague

CHAPTER 1
Year 1574 of the Modern Wheel

No one could stumble upon Jak Inopo’s house by chance and, word is, that’s just how the old pilot likes it. The little house, an ancient family inheritance, is the last one on the edge of town, being perched at the very end of a steep, winding track. It takes a good eye to spot where the narrow track splinters off the main road from town. There are no neighbours, none within shouting distance anyway. No passers-by and, apart from Kai, rarely a visitor anymore since Tiva, the old pilot’s wife, died. Kai’s friend, Gannin Tewel, came once or twice in the early days when Kai first started visiting the old pilot, but Gannin is an action kind of person and hanging out with an old one is not—most emphatically not—Gannin’s definition of fun. Here in the old family house, and mostly alone, Tiva raised their two young ones, Ino and Paol. After ten years of service as one of Pedora’s best pilots, Inopo, like Kai’s own mother, could have taken on more stable duties while he commenced a family. Instead, he’d chosen to remain an eight-n-two far longer than most other pilots and continued to rotate his eight days on shift with two days off in his home-ward.

Kai is tall for his age but, at only seven, his game attempt to steady the ladder while Pilot Jak ascends to the roof of the little house is largely token. Since the house is so remote, Jak can usually get away with scaling the ladder to the roof unobserved but if Ino found out her father was up the ladder again, she’d be livid. Clearly the old pilot is taking advantage of her absence. Ino and her twin brother Paol are instructors at the Lycea and they’re far away now in Ularon City. Paol’s temperament is a little cooler than his sister’s, although Kai doesn’t doubt for one moment that he wouldn’t be any happier to see his skinny old father clambering his way up to the rooftop. As he waits for Jak to reach the top of the ladder, Kai becomes acutely aware of the silence, and it suddenly occurs to him how lonely Ino and Paol must have been every time their father went away. Kai is no stranger to the emptiness left behind when someone goes away—it seems his own father is home barely any time at all before he leaves again.

It’s Kai’s turn to climb the ladder and his ascent is no easier, the distance between the rungs a challenge for his legs. This business of climbing up onto Jak’s roof has become something of a pastime for the recently retired pilot and his protégé. From the roof of Jak’s little house, it’s possible to see all the way across the wardland and sometimes, on a good day, past the Phane village in Plaited Bay. Pilot Jak has an antique proximer and Kai likes to look through it to watch the Phanes out and about on the water. Kai’s view through the proximer is a bit shaky but that’s all right; he’ll get better with practice. The old pilot says the hul-reed antans the Phanes sail are something to see up-close, so brightly coloured and madly decorated in all kinds of strange designs. The old pilot knows a lot. The old pilot has seen a lot. Someday Kai will see those antans for himself. Someday Kai will see just as much as Jak has seen. Maybe more. But he’ll have to become a Continental pilot, like Jak, to do that. Only a Continental pilot has permission to journ among Pedora’s hundred odd islands or transit between its two continents. Jak claims that the Phanes sometimes sail beyond Pedoran borders as far as their lightweight antans can safely take them. Kai thinks Jak is just teasing him. No one ignores Pedoran borders. Everyone knows that.

“So, young pilot,” Jak says, reaching down to haul Kai up and over the last rung of the ladder, “what shall we look at today?”

It’s hot up there on the stone-slab roof. Hot and glaringly bright under the searing midday sun. But it’s one of those good days for gazing far out to sea. One of those days when Kai won’t just content himself with looking at the inlet and listening while the old pilot explains how, a very, very long time ago, a spike of the Karish Sea punched landward, piercing what would become the eastern perimeter of their village.

Jak’s eyes have become so sensitive, sometimes he brings his U-visor up to the roof. In most wards, prolonged and unprotected exposure to their sun’s harsh rays causes inoperable blindness, but here, inside Journer Ward Minor where the light is kinder, they can usually survive without the protection of a U-visor until old age. Since Kai has never been outside his own ward, he doesn’t have a U-visor yet. Still, either Jak forgot to bring his visor today or he decided to go without. He’s squinting as he makes for the larger of two wooden chairs that have become a permanent fixture on the scorching rooftop. Kai knows not to sit on the slab roof or touch the surface with his bare hands. Rather, having made that mistake once, he knows now. He didn’t confess to his mother how he got the blister on his hand, but she guessed. Must have, because since the day he came home with that blister, she’s been lecturing him not to go bothering the old pilot. It’s no use trying to tell her that Jak Inopo wants Kai to bother him. It’s no use trying to tell Usha Kaidador anything.

Kai follows the old pilot’s shadow across the rooftop and settles into the second chair. The chairs can’t be seen from the ground. Just as well. If Ino knew they were there, she’d have scaled the ladder long ago and launched them over the side.

“Antans,” Kai replies, answering Jak’s question, and reaches for the proximer he knows the old pilot has inside his pocket. “I want to see the antans.”

“Again?” The wrinkles in the old pilot’s sun-hardened face crease into a smile.

Kai wonders if he’ll ever get to be as old as Jak. His friends say that Jak Inopo is the oldest living pilot in their ward. Kai asked his father once if that was true, but his father only said it wasn’t polite to go around asking questions about an old one’s age and that Kai and his friends should know better. Kai couldn’t understand why it was impolite, but he accepted his father’s word. Like Pilot Jak, Kai’s father knows things. He knows what is right and what is wrong, and Kai always tries to take notice of whatever his father tells him. His father is a Continental pilot, too. Not a famous one like Jak Inopo, of course, but then Anan Astada isn’t near as old as Jak. He’s chosen to follow Jak’s example though and has signed on for another ten years as an eight-n-two. Kai can think of only one reason why his father would do that—to distance himself from Ush.

“You should ask your mother to take you out to the bay,” Jak says, producing the proximer from his pocket. “Then you can see all the antans you want.”

Kai’s eyes lock with surprise on the pilot.

Is he joking? Usha Kaidador was born in the northeastern province of Journer Ward Minor, about as close to Plaited Bay as you could get without stepping in it. She spent the first two years of her life there, but Kai has never once heard her express any interest in seeing her birthplace again. If she won’t go for herself, it’s a sure bet she won’t take Kai there just to satisfy what she’d dismiss as a silly whim.

Pilot Jak can’t know his mother very well, Kai decides as he takes the proximer from the old one’s wrinkled hand and raises it to his eyes. He struggles to focus over the untidy jumble of dun-coloured roofs and ragged hills of his ward. It takes a few tries but finally he brings the blue of the bay sharply into view. Sunlight is leaping in brilliant sparks off the surface of the Karish Sea and the intense glare starts Kai’s eyes watering. He blinks once, twice in rapid succession but can still see ghosts of the brilliant shimmer even with his eyes closed. Eventually his vision clears.

It doesn’t happen very often but every now and then he’s been able to spot an antan outside the waterwall and each time he sees one of those crazy little crafts, it starts him wondering if Jak isn’t simply teasing him with those stories about Phanes traveling outside Pedora. There are an unusual number of antans about today, but they’re all moored inside the enveloping arc of the high waterwall, close to the gentle shoreline. Kai adjusts the focus of Jak’s proximer and scans the village instead, hoping to spy a Phane. The villagers are as difficult to sight as an antan out to sea. Rumour has it that Phanes mostly sleep during the day, screened away inside little houses constructed of the same yellowish hul-reed that’s used to build their thick floating islands. Just once Kai would like to spend a day inside a Phane home. Not to sleep. To watch. Three, sometimes four times a day, an Urban en route from one part of Pedora’s larger continent to another hurtles along the tracks atop the waterwall. He guesses the Phanes must be accustomed to the wailing. He guesses that, in some ways, the Phanes are lucky. Still, despite the drawback of having Usha Kaidador for a mother, Kai wouldn’t want to be of orphan stock like a Phane, no matter how frequent the opportunity to see an Urban. Better to stomach a few years with someone like Ush than to never have the chance to actually pilot an Urban. To actually pilot an Urban has got to be a hundred—no a thousand—times more exciting than simply hearing one scream past.

“Who’s that?” Jak barks, snatching Kai’s attention with an unexpected nudge that knocks the proximer painfully against his cheek and almost catapults it out of his hands.

That’s all he needs, Kai groans inwardly, massaging his battered cheek, a new bruise to try to explain to Ush.

“Down there.” The old pilot is pointing toward someone wending their way up the steep track to his door. “Give me that,” he says, wrenching the proximer out of Kai’s hand.

Kai hopes Jak hasn’t spotted Ino. They’ll both be in trouble then.

“Just our luck,” the old pilot grumps, lowering the proximer. “Duck!” With a bony hand to the shoulder, he pushes Kai down hard in his chair. “If he sees us, he’ll be up that ladder in no time.”

Kai is left struggling to stay in his chair, backside slipping along the seat. Very soon he’ll be out of it, rear planted on the scorching surface of the roof. Beside him, Jak is bent over at the waist, head pulled down past his knees. He’s pretty agile for an old one.

“Who’s down there?” Kai asks in little above a whisper, figuring Jak wouldn’t want whoever is below to hear them, either. He always tries to think through every situation, ‘to gather the facts’ the way his father says all good pilots do.

“I thought he was still journing. Keep low! Low! Low!” Jak warns faintly but firmly when Kai attempts to scoot back up in his chair.

Kai’s backside has slipped closer to the rooftop and he can’t see a thing now but the cloudless sky overhead. With a bit of a roll and flip, he gets himself back on the seat. He’s leaning a little askew, but at least he’s no longer in any danger of falling off. A bruise to his cheek is one thing but how could he possibly suffer and conceal the discomfort of a painful blister on his rear.

“Who is it?” Kai asks again. He’s trying to get a better look but can’t without straightening in his chair.

“Dinan Kin,” the old pilot whispers in exasperation. “Don’t let him see you.”

That was kind of an unnecessary thing to say, Kai feels. By word and action, Jak has already made that wish abundantly clear and his dogged attempt at evasion puzzles Kai. He has known Journer Kin since he was very little. He couldn’t count very well then, but thinking back, Kai reckons there were maybe twenty or so Journers who used to visit his parents on a regular basis. There was Kin, of course. And Jak. Who else? His friend Gannin’s parents. Henneh’s parents, too. Others whose names and faces he can’t now recall. Kai never got to participate in those parties. He was always sent off to bed but he did enjoy the sense of anticipation that preceded them: his father, moving about the house, collecting every chair they owned to set about the table; his mother at the back of the house, shuffling things around in the little room she always kept locked, and then, just before everyone arrived, in the kitchen, preparing more food than they’d eat in a week by themselves. Better food, too. At least Kai surmised so. He never got to participate in the eating, either. But after the second or third such gathering, it became obvious to him that his parents’ guests were more interested in talk and the odd game they played than food. Such a shame. Sometimes Kai could hear their talk from his room, although he was never able to make out exactly what was said. It was more of a drone of different voices really—one, then another. He never asked what the game was about, but overhearing the words ‘Journers’ Leap’ now and again, assumed that was its name. He and Gannin sometimes grow tired of the same games and maybe it’s that way for old ones, too, because after a while, the visitors just stopped coming. Kai misses that old sense of anticipation but it’s nice to know that in the years ahead there’ll still be time for games.

So, unless something went terribly wrong in the game and someone got hurt, he can’t imagine why Jak doesn’t want to see Kin now when they were obviously such good friends in the past.

“What’s he doing here?”

Kai’s sure Jak is only talking to himself but since he happens to know the answer...

“His mother died,” Kai tells the old pilot. “I heard my mother telling Eff Ganninarl.”

“Did you?” Jak’s tone has mellowed. “Still,” he adds with a flip of his hand and a snappy return of demeanour, “that’s no excuse to go around disturbing someone.”

The old pilot’s house being so out of the way, it certainly seems that Kin’s intention is to disturb Jak Inopo.

And so they wait in silence, listening. First to the hollow-sounding rap on the front door below. Then to Kin’s voice, lifting to the rooftop as he calls the old pilot’s name.

Jak raises a finger to his lips.

Kai already knows to be quiet and he’s starting to get a little annoyed at Jak, who seems to think he hasn’t got sense enough to do what an old one tells him.

“I think he might be leaving,” Kai whispers eventually. He can hear the crunch of footsteps now and Dinan Kin muttering to himself.

Still, it’s a long time before Jak straightens. Kai takes the cue to perch himself more comfortably in his seat. Below them, Dinan Kin has started down the steep meandering track toward town.

“I wonder what he wanted,” Jak says dreamily.

Old ones! There was an easy way to find out what Dinan Kin wanted but Jak did everything possible to avoid it! Why is it that old ones never do what any kyne a fraction of their age could tell them is the easiest thing to do? Old ones sure know how to make big problems out of the littlest things. Young ones have a lot to learn. He’ll admit that. Like how to read and write and, for the young ones in his caste, how to journ. But honestly, old ones could learn a few things as well. But Jak’s not as bad as most, so Kai decides to forgive him this one small lapse. He didn’t particularly want to have his fun disturbed by Dinan Kin, either.

Jak and Kai spend the rest of the afternoon taking turns with the antique proximer. The view doesn’t change much. Even so, Kai can’t imagine ever becoming bored looking at the Karish Sea. Maybe someday he will go out to the bay like Jak suggested. It won’t be with Ush—Gannin maybe. Since they’ll actually be doing something as opposed to watching nothing at all, as Gannin would have it, he might be able to talk his friend into making the long trek.

When Jak declares it’s time to come down off the roof, the sun is already resting low on a streaky mauve horizon behind them. Kai would like to stay longer but he isn’t prepared to risk having the old pilot fall down the ladder in the dark or to weather his mother’s anger for getting home too late. All right, he’s already late, but ‘late’ and ‘late after dark’ are different. At least they seem to be to Ush.

His walk home is brisker than he’d like and even before he reaches the front door, he can hear his mother moving about in the kitchen. By habit, he tries to sense the atmosphere inside before he steps through the open door. That’s another of those things he can’t yet understand; how he can sense the depth of trouble he’s in simply from the ‘feel’ of the house. Today his skin doesn’t crawl. There’s no empty hole in the pit of his stomach. Ush can’t be too angry.

“Where have you been all day?” she asks, turning on him.

“Out,” Kai replies from the kitchen doorway. He knows better than to go to his room before Ush is finished with him.

“With Jak Inopo, I suppose?”

Kai nods. What’s the point of lying? Ush can always tell.

“I’ve told you repeatedly not to bother that old pilot.” Reaching into a little drawer in her workbench, she withdraws a woven bag. It’s threadbare and a little dirty. She dumps it on the table.

Kai knows what that means. He steps forward and picks up the bag.

Ush brings her hands to her hips, plants them there. She’s staring him down in that challenging way only Ush has. “And three parchis, not two! Are you going to remember this time?”

Again Kai nods as he turns, heading back toward the front door.

So he made a little mistake!

“Make it quick,” Ush calls after him. “The market will be closing soon and I want you home before dark.”

Sure! Sure! What’s so bad about the dark, he’d like to know. Especially this time of year when the nights are two-moon? It’s tight confined spaces that are bad, like the tight confined spaces in the market place. Everyone pushing and shoving. Air someone else has already breathed. Produce that’s been mauled and picked over by every passer-by. Now dark and tight spaces are another matter. But dark and open air? Kai couldn’t care a parchi about that.

Three parchis! He’s got to remember that!

It would be good, Kai reckons, if he had a brother or sister to share the responsibility of traipsing back and forth to the market. He dislikes having to deal with Vendors. Not that they’re bad people or anything. He just doesn’t feel comfortable around them. They’re not Journers after all and it’s not like Journers and Vendors ever associate outside the marketplace. There’s only as many Vendors in any ward as necessary, just like there’s only so many Preservers to maintain the wards. Enough to get the job done. He actually knows as little about those castes as he does about the Phanes who, so Jak maintains, come wardland to carry out the other menial tasks real Journers simply won’t do or don’t have to do since the Phanes do it for them. And that’s about the extent of Kai’s knowledge. Vendors vend their wares. Preservers preserve the towns and cities. And Phanes do everything else.

All things considered, he’s glad he was born a Journer. Better if he had been born a Journer to someone other than Usha Kaidador but this world only makes so many offers and only a fool would snub one. Well, that’s what the old ones say anyway....

CHAPTER 2
Year 1583 of the Modern Wheel

“But why won’t you come?”

Back turned, his mother continues peeling bauma over the sink.

“Well?” Kai presses, shoulder propped against the flaking paint of the kitchen doorway.

Still his mother does not answer. Instead, she goes on expertly twisting the large yellow gourd in her hand. Peeling. Peeling.

There’s a pervasive hum of chatter on the street outside, and every now and then, the quick rap-rap-rap of footsteps as someone hurries past. All the same, Kai can hear the ‘thunk’ every time a long curl of heavy rind hits the bottom of the earthen sink. And his mother hears him. Ush never fails to use her slight hearing loss to best advantage.

“You’ll have to answer me some time,” he says patiently.

If he didn’t know better, he’d swear his mother was a Cross. She has the stubborn demeanour of a Crafter, but none of the skills. Besides, he knew his maternal grandparents very well and both were Journers through and through.

“Go then,” Ush replies. She could be talking to the gourd. “I can’t stop you. You’ll be at the Lycea soon anyway and I won’t be there to hold your hand.”

Kai can’t readily recall a time when Ush was there to hold his hand.

“Fine,” he says, spinning on his heels. “I’ll be sure to tell father you wish him well.”

He won’t get the chance and his mother knows that as well as he does. If he’s exceptionally lucky, he may get a distant glimpse of his father. Nothing more. And his father won’t even be aware that he’s looking.

He speeds toward the door. When Asta makes to intercept him, he executes a deft little manoeuvre and darts past her.

“Where you going?” she demands, limply trailing a ragged and dirty doll behind her.

“To see The Nether leave,” Kai tells her as he reaches for the door knob.

Lunging forward, Asta pulls his arm away before he can get a hand to it.

“You can’t. Mother says so.”

Kai shrugs off her tiny hand. Asta, round face tilted up, is glaring at him disapprovingly, black eyes punched like two symmetrical holes in a pale ball that someone has comically dressed with an untidy wig of hul-coloured curls. She’s eight years younger than him and eight times whinier that he ever was at her age. For brother and sister, they couldn’t look or be any less alike.

“She just said I could.”

Asta’s focus shifts briefly toward the kitchen. She doesn’t believe him. She won’t confirm it with Mother though. Asta might be young but even she knows there are some questions you simply don’t bother to ask Mother.

“Then I’m going with you,” she announces, hefting the doll up from the floor to tuck it securely under her arm.

“No,” Kai snaps as he wrenches the front door open and steps outside. “It’s too far for you to walk. We won’t get halfway before you start whining for me to carry you. Besides, Mother didn’t say you could go and little kynes aren’t allowed.”

“Big kynes aren’t allowed on the dock, either.”

“I’m only going to the concourse.”

He slams the door shut, cutting off further opportunity for Asta to argue. But it’s true. Young ones aren’t allowed on the dock or even the concourse. Kai isn’t sure how far he’ll get, considering the attention the launch has garnered. He’s never been to the concourse before, at least not during a launch. Once when a common U-Class Continental was being launched, Henneh and Gannin tried. They even had it in mind to attempt to make it all the way to the dock. Of course, they got caught very quickly and never saw a blessed thing. Although that’s not quite how Gannin tells it, claiming the pilot even talked to him for some time before he climbed onboard. A daring lie considering Henneh was there the whole time. They didn’t even get as far as the concourse, Henneh confided to Kai afterward. She’s never challenged Gannin with the truth though despite the frequency with which he tells the story and the escalation of his heroics with each retelling. Instead, Henneh just rolls her pretty brown eyes and smiles. She’ll make an outstanding Journer. She has the patience, tact and composure that every good Journer needs—good Journers like Anan Astada, Kai’s father. Kai aspires but doubts he’s inherited those same essential qualities. At least he’s not like Ush; he’s confident about that much. Asta, though, is another matter.

“Hey, wait up!”

Kai spins around. He’s barely two houses from home and while the streets aren’t too crowded yet, he doesn’t want to run the risk of missing a possible spot on the concourse.

But it’s only Gannin, sprinting full-pelt down the street, heedless of a small group of fellow sightseers directly in his path. He almost sends Jak Inopo sprawling and probably would have if the old pilot didn’t still possess some of his ancient reflexes. Kai knows for a fact that, in his day, the old pilot piloted more T-Class Continentals than any other Journer in their ward and his father has always maintained that Inopo was one of the best.

Gannin pulls up in a shower of loose stones. Nothing in their ward is very grand. Not the largely identical one-storey cottages the wardlanders live in and certainly not the narrow little streets that wind haphazardly between the modest cottages, which are regime designed and built of course, like the majority of housing provided for the castes under the broad umbrella of the Pedorate, Pedora’s governing caste. At least that’s Kai’s understanding. He’s still never been outside his ward to know for sure. Still never seen the Phane district in his own ward up-close, either. Once he and Gannin defied their curfews and hiked to the high ridge above Plaited Bay. It took them a good three days there and back to do it, but they didn’t see much more than Kai had already seen through Jak Inopo’s proximer when he was young. And Ush, true to form, exacted a hefty price for the wasted effort when they got back.

“Pilot Jak’s still got a lot of influence,” Kai reminds his friend. “You’re not doing yourself any favours.”

Although they’re the same age, Gannin stands a good head shorter than Kai. Being shorter and of a stockier frame, Kai is only too aware that Gannin looks every bit more the pilot than he does.

“I’m set for a T-Class Continental,” Gannin says, dismissing Kai’s warning with a brisk wave of his hand. “Nothing Pilot Jak can do about it.”

Set for a T-Class Continental! Not likely! But Kai isn’t about to tell him. His own sights aren’t set so high. A T-Class Urban would suit him just fine.

Gannin glances over his shoulder. “The old gleat shearer couldn’t tell the business end of a T-Class Continental from the backside of a U-Class Urban these days.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure,” Kai replies as he sets off once again down the street.

Gannin shrugs and falls into step beside him. “Heading for the concourse?”

That’s Gannin—always asking the obvious.

Kai simply nods.

“Ush said you could?”

“Ush doesn’t care.”

Gannin’s pace falters but he says nothing more about it. Instead, he claps a hand over Kai’s shoulder. “Here comes Henneh.”

Kai glances left, spots Henneh rushing through the door of her parents’ cottage.

At the gate that guards a small and well-tended patch of vegetation from the less delicate world beyond, Henneh stops to let two of her neighbours pass, then raises her hand to wave.

She wants them to wait for her. Happy to, Kai says to himself.

“What?” Gannin asks, rolling his attention back to Kai.

As Henneh turns to shut the gate, Kai notices what looks like a pack on her back.

“Didn’t say anything,” Kai replies. “Watch out.” He drags Gannin aside to let Jak Inopo pass. The old pilot spares a nod for Kai but shoots Gannin the dagger of a glance as he shuffles by. Ino Paollu, Inopo’s daughter, is walking beside him. At least Kai thinks it’s Ino. She’s so easy to confuse with her twin, not that Kai has ever tried too hard to tell them apart. Since both have the reputation for coolly decking a Lycea intern at the slightest provocation and both are also towering giants with the overdeveloped musculature to back up said reputation, Kai concluded long ago that it was best to keep his curiosity to himself. Jak’s daughter has one arm locked through the old pilot’s crooked elbow as though he requires her assistance to steady him. Kai isn’t fooled.

“What’s that you’ve brought us? Lunch?” Gannin asks with a smile when Henneh joins them. He’s noticed the straps over her shoulder.

“Hardly,” she says, swinging around to display what’s inside the pack.

Gannin’s smile dissolves. “What did you bring her for?”

He’s talking about Henneh’s little sister, who is currently packed inside the sling-type arrangement securely harnessed to Henneh’s back.

“What did you expect me to do with her? Leave her alone in the house?” Her gaze darts briefly toward Kai. “She’s no trouble. Anyway, what’s it got to do with you?” she challenges Gannin.

“How can we sneak onto the dock with her?” Gannin grumbles. “She could start crying at any moment and give us away.”

“She’s not going to cry,” Henneh snaps back. “And I have no delusions about getting as far as the dock.” She starts off ahead of them down the street. “And, judging on past performances, nor should you.”

Kai hurries to catch up, leaving Gannin licking his invisible wounds a pace or two behind.

“Why did you bring her?” Kai asks matter-of-factly.

“There’s no one else to look after her,” Henneh replies, glancing sidelong at Kai. “Father has to work.” She nods into the distance, “Mother is … leaving,” then shrugs. “Mig is my responsibility now.”

“Forever?” Kai asks, shocked.

He and Henneh are the same age and just like him, two days from now, she’s supposed to start the training that will lead her in her parents’ journing footsteps.

“Of course not.” She executes a little jump, settling Mig more comfortably on her back.

The little one giggles, drawing Kai’s attention. She’s a miniature version of Henneh, red-haired, brown-eyed and, in his admittedly limited experience with the young one, always quick to smile.

“Father promised me,” Henneh adds.

She knows what he’s thinking and he wasn’t imaging the trace of uncertainty when she spoke. With her mother leaving, what does that mean for Mig? Will she be sent away? When he was three, perhaps four years old, the young ones who lived next door to him were sent away. Kai has barely given a thought to that fair-haired kyne and her brother over the intervening years. Why would he? The kyne was maybe... what?... three or four years older than him and her brother perhaps six or more years older than that. Kai hardly remembers him at all. Orphans and sometimes those with a single parent too busy or disinterested to take care of them often find themselves sent off to live with the Phanes. It’s what Phanes are anyway—generation upon generation bred of ancient orphan stock. Perhaps being orphaned of both parents might have made it inevitable for those kynes next door. However, although Henneh’s father is a sought-after Journer and sometimes still travels far from home, he is not, by any means, a disinterested parent.

Kai’s glance drifts in the direction of Plaited Bay, but he’d have to be right on top of ‘Headcracker Hill’ to even get a glimpse of it in the distance. That kyne and her brother are probably out there now, living with the Phanes. As he sees it, there are only two possible outcomes for Mig and Henneh. Either Mig’s future will be forfeited to the Phanes, which doesn’t seem at all likely to him, or Henneh will not be going with them to the Lycea. For his friend’s sake, Kai decides to speak no more about it.

By the time they reach the base of ‘Headcracker Hill’, Gannin has caught up. The gates are open and the residents of Journer Ward Minor are finally at liberty to pass into what has been restricted territory for the duration of work on The Nether. By Kai’s reckoning, he’s been watching the construction crews routinely come and go through the swinging gates in the high wire fence for a very long time.

“I hate this walk to the docks,” Gannin says as he passes through the open gates and begins the uphill trudge. “Someday they’re going to put a Sub under the southern sector and then we’ll be able to ride all the way to the concourse.”

Both Kai and Henneh smile.

Gannin thinks he knows everything and has never been one to withhold any alleged intelligence. But there are castes even within castes and the corresponding favours that come with the division. The most privileged of the Journer caste don’t live in Journer Ward Minor and especially not in its southern sector like Kai and his friends, who must rely on their own two sturdy feet and enough stamina to get them anywhere they need to go inside their ward.

“If they do put in a Sub, you’ll be first choice for pilot,” Henneh observes.

She’s offended Gannin well and truly now. It’s common ground for them.

“Only if you’ve Crossed by then,” Gannin snaps back.

Kai has never really gazed too far into the future, blindly assuming that, by and large, every new graduate will be given the posts of their choice. But the matter of Mig’s future has him thinking. There are no guarantees. Whatever made him think there would be? All he ever had to do was look at his own mother to know that. Both Ush’s father and mother were given the command of Continentals at some point during their careers. What has Ush ever commanded but a Sub? A Sub! For the first time in his life, Kai tries, really tries, to visualise piloting a Sub through the narrow, pitch black tunnels. The mere prospect makes him shudder. Tight spaces and darkness, his worst fear. How did Ush face it? Time and time again! In that at least, perhaps he’s sold his mother too short.

Behind him, someone laughs, distracting Kai from his bleak thoughts. He turns around to find a group of young ones hurtling directly for them. The crest isn’t too far away and once on the summit, momentum will fling them downhill at an unstoppable speed. It’s a time-honoured young ones’ game. They’ve all played it on ‘Headcracker Hill’, but the hill has been off limits for a long time now and likely these young kynes have never had the chance to make good on the tradition.

Kai nudges Henneh and Gannin off to the side.

“Young ones!” Gannin jeers, stumbling on an uneven patch of road, as the group rocket past, screaming and laughing.

Kai’s ears begin to ring. Then he remembers Jak Inopo. The old pilot is just ahead of them, out of sight, ambling arm-in-arm with Ino down the far side of the hill.

“Hey, you kynes,” he shouts. “Look out for...”

Too late. They’re up and over the summit already. Kai holds his breath, waiting.

“What’s the matter?” Henneh asks, breathing a little heavily.

Kai looks down and discovers that he’s subconsciously grasped her arm. He still has a soft spot for that old pilot.

He shakes his head and releases Henneh when all he hears is a medley of excited laughter bubble over the summit. By luck rather than good planning, Jak must have been spared a head-over-heels tumble to the bottom of the hill.

Gannin is first to reach the top where he stops to point.

“There she is! The Nether Supercontinental. And she’s a beauty.” He turns to encourage Kai and Henneh upward with an enthusiastic wave. His face is flushed, beaming with pride, and filmed in sweat from the strenuous climb.

Arlin Tewel, Gannin’s older brother, is already somewhere on The Nether. So, too, is Rei Sek, Henneh’s mother, Anan Astada, Kai’s father, as well as forty or so other Journers from their ward and Journer Ward Major plus a moderate number of support crew from some of the undercastes. There’s not a single Journer onboard from any of the remote Journer wards. Journers from those wards aren’t called marginals for nothing. Few progress beyond Subs and none expect anything different. The Nether will be gone a long time. Perhaps even long enough for Gannin, Henneh and Kai to graduate. No one really knows.

Kai comes to the top of the hill and, reaching out a hand, helps Henneh the rest of the way up. Perhaps he should have offered to take Mig, but Henneh only would have refused.

Henneh gasps.

At first, Kai thinks she’s winded but he’s mistaken.

“Oh, she is beautiful,” Henneh cries. “The best ship ever.”

Maybe. Maybe not. After all, it’s only the second Supercontinental to ever be launched and the first from Journer Ward Minor. Henneh hardly has adequate means for comparison. But Kai has to admit, whether The Nether is the best ship ever or not, she certainly is imposing, all silver and shiny silhouetted against the still grey water of the slender inlet behind her. If anything, the haphazard array of large workshops and assembly buildings in the foreground only make her look more colossal.

Henneh is beaming a smile broader than Gannin’s.

“Come on,” Gannin calls as he starts off with urgency down the hill. “We still might be able to find a good spot on the concourse.”

“What happened to making it to the dock?” Kai goads his friend with a downhill shout. Without waiting for a reply, he turns around and looks back the way they came, down ‘Headcracker Hill’. Their neighbours are arriving in throngs now. “We’re ahead of most of the crowd,” he tells Henneh. “We could get a place on the concourse if we hurry.”

Henneh shakes her head. “I’ll watch the launch from here.”

“Why?” Kai asks, then quickly glances over his shoulder to check on Gannin’s progress. He’s three-quarters of the way down the hill.

Henneh swings her shoulder around to remind Kai what she’s carrying on her back.

“Oh,” Kai mutters.

Kynes aren’t allowed on the concourse!

Mig’s tiny hand reaches out to Kai and, when he doesn’t take it, she begins waving at each passer-by.

“What’s holding you up?”

Kai turns to respond to Gannin’s barely audible shout. He’s almost reached the bottom of the hill, where he is stopped, waiting on them.

Kai makes a quick decision. “We’re staying here,” he calls down to Gannin.

His friend’s arms shoot out from his sides, a gesture of either confusion or frustration. “Why!”

“Mig,” Henneh hollers before Kai has a chance to respond.

“Told you not to bring her,” Gannin fires back. “I hope you don’t expect me to hang around up there with you.”

Kai waves him off. “No one asked you to. Go on. It’ll be easier for you to make it to the dock alone anyway.” He feels a little slap against his back, but Henneh is laughing.

“You’ll get him detained again,” she says.

“He won’t even try it,” Kai replies, waving Gannin on once more.

“Suit yourself then,” Gannin yells before resuming his sprint toward the concourse. Ahead of him are Jak and his daughter; they’ve already made it to the bottom of the hill.

“You should go with him,” Henneh says, sobering.

Kai isn’t really listening. He looks out, far past the striking bulk of The Nether to the sea, then allows his gaze to drift up. It’s a fine morning for a launch. The water in the inlet is calm and, with little haze out to sea, visibility is at its prime. They’ll be able to follow the ship’s progress for a long time.

“What did you say?” he asks, shifting his focus to Henneh.

“I said there’s no need for you to stay here with me. You can go with Gannin if you want to.”

Kai just shrugs. “We’ll be fine here. Better than being stuck down there in the crowd.” He motions for Henneh to follow him into the grass beside the road. “Here’s a good place,” he says. “You can even let Mig down. We can watch her. She can’t get into much trouble.”

“She won’t get into any trouble,” Henneh assures Kai as she drops to her knees in the long grass and begins to loosen the straps from the sling that’s cradling her little sister. Mig tries to help but only succeeds in lengthening the process of liberating herself. “There you go, Mig,” Henneh finally says with a smile of indulgence. “You mind Kai and me now and, if you’re a good one, maybe Kai will put you up on his shoulders to see the launch.” She turns her little sister around and, resting her arm on Mig’s shoulder, points. “Look there,” she coaxes. “Mother is over there. On The Nether.”

Mig nods solemnly. “Mother,” she repeats a little awkwardly and swings her tiny face toward Henneh. “Home?”

Henneh takes a moment to answer. “Soon, I hope.”

It’s a hope Kai earnestly shares.

***

Morning breaks uncommonly crisp and cool but, in spite of the unusual chill, the sun is shining brightly. Kai’s tiny room is cleaned and his bag is packed, admission papers securely stashed in the front pocket.

It’s customary for new interns to take the long walk to the station alone but more than likely the other five interns scheduled to leave this morning are receiving a warm farewell right now. Still Kai didn’t expect anything like that from Ush, so isn’t surprised when her parting words are brief and cooler than the morning air. Asta is sitting ensconced on the couch, dirty and ever-present doll shoved carelessly under one arm, but she takes a moment to divert her attention from Kai’s old school reader, which she has thrust in front of her eyes. Emergence from Chaos, the Pedorate Council’s official primer for young ones, is the only book on the reader and it’s obvious that she’s merely pretending to read it. When he makes to say goodbye, she sticks her tongue out at him and returns to her sham study. Kai doesn’t care. This is going to be the best day of his life. He is finally leaving Ush and Asta behind and if he never sees either one of them again, it will still be too soon. Whether he will ever return to his home-ward, Kai doesn’t know. When, with deliberate gentleness, he closes the door and steps into the street, Kai carries only two misgivings with him. If he never returns to this place, then he may never see his father again. That’s misgiving one. And although he’s excited at the prospect of his first journ on an Urban, he’s also apprehensive about it and principally because of the tunnel. That’s his second misgiving. Journer Ward Minor is bounded to the east by water and to the north and west by the high peaks of a mountain system simply known as The Range. There are only two Urban routes in and out of the ward, one over the waterwall located in the northeast of the ward and the other by way of the long narrow tunnel punched through The Range. The direct route to Ularon City is through the tunnel. Kai knows he should be more concerned about what lies in wait for him beyond The Range but there’ll be time for that later. In truth he’d rather trek The Range and make his way on foot to Ularon City, but that’s impossible, not simply because of the distance, but due to the ruggedness of the mountains. The Range can’t be traversed on foot.

Gannin is waiting for him on the street outside. He looks a little nervous and is shuffling from one foot to the other, crunching loose stones. His bag is much larger than Kai’s. He has over-packed and it’s a long walk to the station.

Kai glances past Gannin, looking for the four other interns who’ll accompany them this day. Mikl Arannan and Sance Palador are making their way down the street, but there’s no sign of Henneh or Astorl Penn. He hasn’t seen Henneh since they watched the launch of The Nether together.

“Are the others coming?” Kai asks, turning to Gannin.

His friend bends to collect his bag, grunting with the effort. “Suppose,” he says with little interest.

If, for whatever reason, Henneh and Astorl are staying behind then the likelihood of ever seeing either of them again is also in question. He isn’t sure why the thought of that bothers him so much.

“Seen Henneh and Astorl this morning?” Kai calls to Mikl.

“Gone to the station already,” Mikl sings out from across the street as he passes, side by side with Sance.

“Satisfied?” Gannin asks. He’s looking at Kai strangely, a touch of impatience, maybe confusion, crinkling the skin around his light-coloured eyes.

Kai breathes a silent sigh although, again, he isn’t quite sure why he should feel so relieved. He doesn’t reply but sets off in pursuit of Mikl and Sance.

“It’s a competition, you know,” Gannin says, struggling after him. “We’ll all have to look after our own interests from now on. I mean if you want to get the best posting, you’ve got to—”

“Can’t a person be curious?” Kai snaps, cutting Gannin off. “Just asking. You always have to make a big issue out of everything.” He puts some distance between himself and Gannin, who has no hope of catching up considering the load he’s shouldering.

Kai’s mood is darkening. And it had started out such a good morning! But he only has himself to blame. Gannin hadn’t really said anything wrong. In fact, there will be no watching out for each other from now on. It’s something else Kai neglected to consider and he isn’t sure how he really feels about that. Perhaps it isn’t just Gannin’s overall physique that makes him look like he has the potential to make a better pilot; perhaps he actually has the mental disposition to be a better pilot. By the time he’s completed the long walk to the station, Kai has almost come to terms with that possibility. What does it matter? If Gannin really is set for a Continental like he says, then Kai is happy for him. After all, he’s only counting on a standard Urban. But there are good Urban runs like the T-Class, top-of-the-line as far as Urbans go, the modest Urban runs like the U-Class they’ll be taking this morning, and, at the base of the scale, the everyday D-Class. He just has to make sure that he’s a worthy enough pilot to be assigned one of the better runs, that’s all. How hard can that be? He must have inherited some talents from his father.

He spies Astorl and Henneh standing on the platform. Mikl and Sance arrived only moments ago and all four of them are chattering over each other. Gannin is still bringing up the rear somewhere. Kai doesn’t bother to wait for him. Like Gannin said, it’s everyone for themselves from now on. He tries to attract Henneh’s attention, but it’s Astorl who notices his wave.

And now that Gannin has got him thinking along the lines of their futures again, Kai begins to wonder how Astorl Penn with her sweet little gamine face and diminutive frame will fare during their time at the Lycea. She’s smart. She’s quick. But she’s also a little shy and deferential. Perhaps the Lycea will knock that out of her, although it doesn’t seem likely. Of all of them, if anyone is destined for a Sub run, it’s Astorl Penn. And that would be a shame. Kai likes her—not as much as he likes Henneh who along with Gannin has been a constant companion almost since birth—but he does like Astorl and, to his way of thinking, she deserves better than a Sub run where she’ll spend the good part of every day in the confining darkness, ubiquitous dust and incapacitating noise in a labyrinth of underground tunnels. She’ll become deaf within a few years, unable to move around on the surface without the aid of thick protective glasses and she’ll cough incessantly. Ush is the rare breed of Sub pilot who reached middle age. Many don’t.

Astorl steps away from the others to greet him, although Kai gets the impression that those sparkling yellow-green eyes of hers are actually looking past him. Kai dumps his light bag at his feet anyway and opens his arms to embrace her. There are only the six of them on the platform. Urbans rarely stop at Journer Ward Minor and generally just whizz past on their way to somewhere more important. But this is a special run for new students of the Lycea and there are only three stops. The Urban will already have stopped at Journer Ward Major, where it picked up one group of interns before it journed southward and seaward, striding the long arc of the waterwall to its second stop in Kai’s ward to collect the remainder of the interns. Its last and final stop will be at the Lycea in Ularon City, where all of its passengers will disembark. There are no marginal interns this year; at least that’s been the rumour. Apart from the pilot, the interns from the Major and Minor Journer wards will be the only ones onboard. Their instructors, including Paol Inopo and Ino Paollu, are already at the Lycea, waiting on the arrival of this fresh batch of naive interns. That’s good. It means that no one from the Lycea will be onboard to see him should he lose control inside the dark and narrow tunnel inside The Range.

“You made it,” Astorl says with a smile, stepping out of his light hold.

Was there some doubt?

She seems a little nervous, too. They all do, but there’s a kind of rush in her voice and her focus shifts jerkily from place to place. Or is she just anxious for Gannin to arrive? Without another word, she hurries past Kai to intercept Gannin who is now towing as opposed to shouldering his cumbersome load. Astorl is quick to take the straps from Gannin’s hand and proceeds to drag the heavy bag across the platform toward the others. At least that settles Kai’s question.

As he passes, Gannin tosses Kai a triumphant smile. Kai frowns. Poor Astorl. She has no clue what she’s trying to get herself into. Gannin is his friend—his good friend—but Kai harbours no delusions about the many little flaws in his friend’s character.

Finally Henneh sees him. Her face breaks into a broad smile and she hurries over to brush his cheek with a kiss. That’s new! Kai doesn’t miss the quick exchange of glances between Mikl and Sance up on the platform, but he plays like it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

“We thought you four would never get here. The Urban is due any moment.”

Gannin opens his mouth to speak but a high-pitched whine cuts him off. The Urban is drawing close. Although it will be Kai’s first time on an Urban, for years he watched them from the roof of Jak Inopo’s house. From up there, they appeared as little more than a blur swiftly passing on top of the waterwall, a chimera that, whenever he chanced to blink, was missed.

When Henneh bends to retrieve her modestly sized bag, Kai draws Gannin’s attention and nods toward it. Gannin just curls a lip and reaches for his own oversized bag. He was probably hoping Astorl would carry it for him all the way but she has her own bag to worry about. Like Mikl’s and Sance’s, it is noticeably smaller than Gannin’s and, only now, Kai begins to wonder exactly what his friend might have in there.

The whine begins to downshift smoothly to a frequency that’s less of an assault to the ear; a clear sign that the Urban is slowing down. When Kai looks over at Gannin, he’s surprised to see his friend’s face turning a little green.

“Cheer up, Gannin,” he says, nudging him with a crooked elbow. “It’s not like you have to pilot it yet.”

“Very funny,” Gannin mutters and drops his baggage. Latching hold of Kai’s arm, he drags him out of earshot of the others.

“What?” Kai asks. The approaching Urban is spawning a noise reminiscent of the wind on a blustery day now.

Gannin casts a furtive glance around, evidently to assure himself that no one is listening. They’re not. They’re all stooping forward, eyes and ears attentive to the approaching Urban, each desperate to be the first to catch sight of it. Kai is anxious to join them.

“Have you ever been motion sick?” Gannin whispers hesitantly.

“Of course not.”

Gannin punches his arm, visibly irritated. “Have you ever been in a situation to get motion sick?”

Kai thinks for a moment. “No,” he admits.

“What if you end up throwing up all over yourself in there?” Gannin says, pointing down-track in the direction of the still invisible Urban.

Kai takes another moment. “You mean what if you do, don’t you?”

Gannin’s jaw drops, but Kai doesn’t allow the discomfit to continue too long. He grasps his friend’s arm and begins leading him back to the edge of the platform. “Look at it this way, Gannin,” he says as he propels his friend forward, “what if it’s one of the others instead?”

Gannin’s face brightens. “Yeah. It could be one of them.” He leans closer to Kai. “I’m betting on Sance. What do you think?”

Kai hopes not. Sance has a legendary appetite and the body mass to support the distinction. Nervous or not, Sance would still have downed a hearty breakfast.

“No one’s going to get sick, Gannin,” Kai says. He’s becoming impatient with his friend. After all, the Urban is coming.

Astorl starts jumping up and down. “There she is,” she cries, swinging her head around to alert her companions. “I see her.”

So Astorl is not only smart and quick, but it seems she also has one other essential quality for a pilot—good eyesight, the best of them all. Kai looks sidelong at Gannin. He’s squinting into the distance and Kai succumbs to a fleeting moment of pity. Gannin may think he’s set for a Continental. He turns to a grinning Henneh.

“It’s so exciting!” she says with a few little jumps, mirroring Astorl.

She’s squealing in competition with the slowing Urban and it makes Kai laugh.

The snub nose of the U-Class Urban is clearly visible now, crouched low to the tracks. The cab sweeps up gently and majestically from the nose and, from what Kai can make of the trailing carriage, she’s silver, sleek and almost entirely cylindrical in shape, nothing at all like he was expecting. There’s a barely perceptible join where carriage meets cab but overall she’s a smooth-surfaced, ergonomic-looking machine.

“Take a good long look,” Gannin urges, prodding Henneh in the ribs, “she’ll be yours someday.”

“Wouldn’t mind,” Henneh replies evenly, leaning forward so far Kai worries she might tumble onto the rails. He pulls her back gently and she beams another of those sunny smiles at him.

The Urban seems to drop a little as she pushes closer to the station and, with a kind of combination clunk and hum, eases to a stop. Upfront and entirely out of view behind the heavily tinted backward-sweeping window in the nose, the pilot is sitting hooked-in and he or she will stay hooked-in for the duration of the journ. The Urban is their responsibility, day-in, day-out, year-in, year-out, and she will stay their responsibility, completely, until the pilot has their rank upgraded (unlikely), is found derelict in their duties (possible), completes their eight-n-two (feasible) or dies (unfortunate).

As the door to the carriage hisses open and Sance, who has pushed his way to the front, steps onboard, Kai wonders if the pilot is anyone they might know, someone from their home-ward maybe.

Henneh hangs back, waiting her turn. She and Kai will be the last to board. Gannin shoulders past Mikl to be the next, but he bangs his oversized bag in the narrow doorway and barely averts a tumble backward onto the platform.

Kai does his best not to laugh until he hears Henneh’s infectious giggle.

“Hey,” he says, suddenly remembering, “whatever happened with Mig? Last I heard...”

He stops talking when the happy expression on Henneh’s face begins to fade.

“Didn’t Ush tell you?” she asks.

“Ush?” Kai replies, confused. “What’s Ush got to do with anything?”

“She’s going to take Mig,” Henneh answers hesitantly. “I thought she would have told you.”

Henneh has really thrown him.

“No one else has the time,” Henneh says soberly and then immediately begins to brighten. “But it’ll work out fine.” She touches Kai’s arm. “Ush raised you and look how you turned out.”

No. If he was raised by anyone, it was Anan Astada, despite his frequent absences. But Kai isn’t about to tell Henneh that. She was so happy and excited until he brought up the subject of Mig. He forces a smile for her benefit.

“Of course it’ll be fine,” he says. “I was just surprised, that’s all. Ush probably thought you’d told me,” he lies.

“Probably,” Henneh agrees, her smile edging back to the surface.

Kai isn’t quite sure if she’s fallen for it but decides it’s best just to let things go. Instead, he leans in close to Henneh’s ear and whispers as she is about to step onboard, “Gannin’s afraid he might throw up.”

“Ew,” she replies, wincing. “Then I’ll definitely be sitting next to you.”

About The Author

SHAUNE LAFFERTY WEBB was born in Brisbane, Australia. Her father was an amateur astronomer and her eldest brother, an avid science fiction reader, so perhaps it was inevitable that she developed an early enthusiasm for writing speculative fiction.

After obtaining a degree in geology from the University of Queensland, Shaune subsequently worked in geochemical laboratories, exploration companies, and, while living in the United States, at a multinational scientific institute involved in exploration beneath the ocean floors.

Her short stories have appeared in AntipodeanSF, The Nautilus Engine, Blue Crow Magazine, and The Vandal and her novels, 'Bus Stop on a Strange Loop' and 'Balanced in An Angel's Eye', were released by Winterbourne Publishing in 2011 and 2012, respectively.

'Cold Faith', the first book in The Safe Harbour Chronicle series, was released in May 2015 and, 'Faithless', the second in the trilogy, in April 2017, while the third and final volume in the series, 'The Unforgotten', was published by Hague Publishing in November 2019.

'Once a Dog', an anthropomorphic novel, was released in May 2018 by Jaffa Books; the novel was nominated for the 2018 Ursa Major Award in the category of Best Novel and ultimately ranked first runner-up in the awards ceremony held at Columbus, Ohio, 26 May 2019.

Shaune lives in Brisbane with her husband, a research scientist, and when not writing, she is kept busy pandering to their aging border collie.

For more information visit Shaune's author page.

THE JOURNING PLAGUE

The moral rights of Shaune Lafferty Webb to be identified as the author of this work have been asserted.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher.

Copyright 2024 Hague Publishing

ISBN 978-1-922984-02-9

Cover: The Journing Plague by Jade Zivanovic http://www.steampowerstudio.com.au/

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