BooksBarbecue
Back The Dream Runners
Chapters (53)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. Part One
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. Part Two
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. Part Three
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. Acknowledgments
  50. About the Author
  51. Books by Shveta Thakrar
  52. Back Ad
  53. About the Publisher

For Venkat was a dreamsmith. He didn’t simply catalog and sell the scraps of dreams brought in by the runners; he also mined those scraps and soldered the extracted elements together into tangible objects as strange and fanciful as the visions they came from. His was an ability rarely seen and even more rarely developed.

And Nayan was the one who’d helped him develop it.

Up here, in their secure retreat, he’d guided Venkat until about three years ago, teaching him between their other tasks. Then, once Nayan was pleased with his skill, they had begun their project. Section by section, Venkat was forging a landscape of dreams, one Nayan promised would end the war with the garudas and change everything for the nagas.

“How are the runners?” Nayan asked.

Venkat had to tell him about Jai. Their system relied on monitoring and replacing the dream runners as necessary. If it was time to recruit another candidate, Nayan needed to know.

But Venkat’s trials to help them were so close to success. He could feel it.

“Look!” he said, producing a pair of stone-blade scissors he’d designed to cut right through the most elaborate of lies. “This one’s still holding its shape. I think we might be onto something.”

He would tell Nayan. Just not yet.

“Indeed!” Nayan surveyed the bustling terrain far below them, the nagas only small dots of color against the green. Then he took the scissors and held them up to the boundless sky. “My son,” he said, his words steeped in satisfaction, “I believe you are ready for the next step of our project.”

image

3

Tanvi jerked awake to the sound of rattling. Golden charms glittered all around her—a carousel horse, a quarter note, a toadstool, a rearing unicorn’s head, an open book, two hearts intertwined, and a daisy—then winked out. Her neck ached. She’d fallen asleep in the closet while imagining the bracelet again, her pouch full of fresh wares from Dubai.

Dream runners didn’t dream, but sometimes they held on to memories of their harvests. One swam up in Tanvi’s mind.

Her fourth time venturing out on her own, she’d lucked into a dream about a man winning the lottery and completely transforming his life. He’d traded in his basement studio apartment for a grand villa in Paris, quit substitute teaching, and bought his aunt the motorcycle she’d always wanted. It had been an enchanted vision, packed with beauty and luxury and pleasure—up until the moment when Tanvi had accidentally woken the dreamer while guiding the wisps into her vial. Not only had the story cut off halfway through, but the man’s horror as reality sank back in had been a total waste. Why couldn’t that have happened inside the dream, so she could have bottled it?