Ruin (The Ruin Saga Book 1) by Harry Manners Page A

onto a patchwork of scavenged rugs. A hearty fire crackled in the inglenook at the far end, bathing the air in a woody punch.
    But the environs did nothing for the mood. The summer morning was powerless against the grumblings of unsatisfied diners and the racket of empty stomachs.
    Manning the cookers was a small group of acting chefs. The city’s more mundane tasks ran on a rota system. Everyone took their turn. Those on the morning shift today looked drawn and tired, discontent at having had to rise before dawn only to serve such a meagre meal.
    Norman took a bite of mottled crust, tasted sawdust—Rayford Hubble, the miller, had been adding bulk to make the loaves go further—and turned his gaze upon Lucian. “What do you think?” he said.
    Lucian swallowed the last of his ration without complaint and leant back from the table. “I’m not sure we should risk it. We don’t want anybody following us back here. We can’t afford the attention. People are stretched thin as it is.”
    “I thought we needed the food,” Norman said.
    “We do.” He shrugged. “Your decision. You’re the ‘future king’.”
    Norman grimaced. “I hate that.”
    Lucian’s face remained set, but his eyes flashed with brief amusement. “I’m not going to help you make every little decision forever. Sooner or later you’re going to have to do it all solo.”
    Norman sighed and bent closer, feeling more childlike by the second. “Well, what do you think we should do?” he murmured.
    Lucian shot him a glance laced with exasperation.
    Norman rubbed his eyes, gritting his teeth. If there was one thing he hated above all else, it was being put on the spot. “We need the food, simple as that,” he said. “We’ll have to risk it.”
    Lucian nodded. Norman thought the gorge between his eyes had become a little shallower, but it might have been the light. “Fine. But we need to go now, before it gets late. If we run into trouble, I don’t want to have to retreat in failing light.”
    Norman cleared his plate, savouring the flavour for a moment. Eggs had been something he’d only recently begun to eat on a frequent basis before the famine. In his childhood they had been a rare treat. Now, they were once again a rarity.
    Then he nodded, getting to his feet. “Have you heard from Allison?” he said.
    “Not since last night.”
    Norman’s gut rattled with disquiet at that. Lucian’s eyes told a similar story.
    “Just how short on supplies are we?”
    Lucian belched, stretching skyward as he got to his feet. Despite his stature—his extended fingertips didn’t reach much higher than Norman’s crown—people rarely noticed. His perpetual scowling countenance made him seem a far larger, more dangerous creature, a silver-haired wolverine.
    He thought a moment longer. “Hard to say. There are still half a dozen other scavenging parties out there. No telling what they’ll bring back.” He grumbled for a moment. “To be safe, six bags. That’ll get us through the celebration.”
    “We shouldn’t be gathering for the celebration this year. There just isn’t enough to go around.”
    “Try telling Alex that.”
    Norman grumbled, made a quick estimate in his head, and cursed. “It just isn’t going to stretch far enough. Birchington doesn’t have that much to spare. Not half of it would have germinated by now.”
    “We could try Whitstable. And we should take Allison. She'll stir up a storm if we leave her here.”
    “She’ll just slow us down. How many people could she talk to in a few hours?”
    Lucian threw him a look.
    Norman hesitated—
    How many? The whole city, and the birds in the sky to boot.
    —and then nodded. “Right. I’ll get her and meet you at the stables.” He left the hall and stepped out onto Main Street, holding up a hand to shield his eyes from the rising sun.
    Beyond a rusted substation transformer from which wires spewed on all sides were three men dressed in blue overalls and hardhats, all looking