Lee glanced at Norr, saw an almost imperceptible nod, and turned back again. “Yes.”
“Then I apologize,” the monk said, dropping to his knees in the street. “Teach me that I may learn.”
Later that day Lee had an opportunity to meet with Fadari, the village elders, and the girl named Odani. Having refused the ornate chair that had been brought out for his comfort, Lee sat cross-legged on a mat laid down in front of the temple. The others arranged themselves in a circle. Hoggles kept watch over the L-phants while Norr and Rebo looked on. Though momentarily safe, the little girl was still under a sentence of death and sat with downcast eyes. Tears ran down her face as the monk made his case.
“Teon wrote that we must honor our parents,” Fadari began. “He also said that we should take their counsel, see to their needs when they grow old, and protect them from harm. Odani saw her mother fall into the river, and rather than go to her rescue, allowed her own flesh and blood to be swept away. Teon taught us that to allow someone to die, when we could have saved them, is no different than murdering them ourselves. And murder is punishable by death. Therefore, like it or not, Odani must die.”
Lee sat with his back perfectly straight. He was reminded of the lessons that Suu Qwa had attempted to teach him, the hypothetical situations that he had been forced to respond to every day, and discovered that he couldn’t remember one that even came close to the situation he found himself in. Yet there he was, surrounded by adults who believed that they were in the presence of the great Nom Maa, even though that had been a lie, as was the title of Prelate, and his claim that he could see Fadari’s discarnate mentor standing by his side. The lies were wrong, he knew that, but the intent was good. And qualified or not, he would have to find a way to convince the villagers that he was correct, or the little girl was going to die. She stared at him from the far side of the circle her eyes bright with hope.
“It may or may not be relevant,” Lee said cautiously, “but if someone would be so good as to fetch a copy of the Path, I think they will find that what Teon actually said is that when it comes to our parents we should consider their counsel, which is different than being required to ‘take’ it.” The actual text wouldn’t make much difference, not really, but the boy was stalling for time.
Fadari frowned, but had little choice but to send one of the elders after the book and to read the passage once the old man returned. Having done so he bowed. “I stand corrected. The Prelate is right . . . The correct word is ‘consider.’ ”
Everyone, including both Rebo and Norr, looked at Lee with increased respect. Because, relevant or not, the boy’s knowledge of Teon’s teachings had been proven to be at least momentarily superior to Fadari’s. “All right,” Lee said, having used the delay to create a strategy. “I would like to hear from the accused . . . Odani, is what Brother Fadari claims true? Did you allow your mother to drown?”
Odani looked down at the ground. “Yes,” she said miserably, “it is. I’m very sorry.”
“You see?” Fadari exclaimed triumphantly. “The girl admits it herself! No offense to the Prelate, who was understandably distraught when he saw that a child was about to be put to death, but the situation is clear.”
“But why?” Lee demanded desperately. “Why would you do such a thing?”
The girl remained mute and kept her eyes fixed on the ground. Norr had worked her way around behind the child by then. She could “see” the streaks of red-orange pain that darted away from the girl and bent to take double handfuls of her flimsy dress. There was a loud ripping sound as the fabric parted and Odani clutched at the front of her garment. “Here’s your answer,” the sensitive replied grimly as she lifted the girl to her feet and forced the child to turn a circle. “Look at her back.”
There was a mutual gasp of surprise as the group looked upon more than a dozen angry red welts, and more than that, the puckered scar tissue left behind by the countless whippings that had gone before. There, right before their eyes, was the reason why Odani allowed her mother to drown.
“But why?” Fadari inquired softly, his words echoing Lee’s. “Why didn’t you tell us? We very nearly killed you.”
“Because,” Lee answered for her, “the teachings counsel us to honor our parents. And Odani did. It’s up to us, those who have taken up the task of interpreting written text, to bring it fully and fairly to life.”
And it was then, as Lee glanced up to meet Rebo’s eyes, that the boy saw the very thing that had been missing for so many days: respect. It filled the youth with pride, and suddenly he felt whole again.
Brother Fadari bowed until his forehead touched the ground. “We give thanks that the Prelate chose to pass this way. I will never forget the mistake that I made and will work diligently to look beyond text to the realities of life.”
Lee felt guilty about the lies he had told, but was forced to tell one more by touching the back of the monk’s closely shaven skull with two fingertips and giving the traditional blessing. “May God be with you, for you are the instrument of God, and the hope of humanity.”
The council was concluded after that. Odani’s father had been killed by bandits two years earlier, but the elders assured Lee that a good family would take the child in, and she would never be abused again.
Word of what had taken place during the meeting spread like wildfire, and once the true nature of Lee’s journey was understood, the entire village turned out to celebrate the passing of the boy who might be the next Inwa (leader of leaders). There was a feast, and fires burned long into the night, but the other three off-worlders didn’t take part. They took a group of five well-armed men back up the trail, told them about the metal men, and established an ambush.
But the night passed without incident, and Rebo insisted on an early departure, lest still another day of travel be lost. Brother Fadari watched the L-phants lumber down the road, cross over the ancient duracrete bridge, and climb the opposite slope. The holy man knew that the Prelate and his party would soon enter the badlands, where they would face all manner of dangers, not the least of which would be the summer heat.
He couldn’t prevent that, but there was something that he could do, which was why the monk ordered all of the elderly and children into the deepest recesses of the ancient mine before taking up a rifle and leading the remaining adults up to the point where they would confront the killer constructs. To take a life was wrong, the Path made that clear, but the machines weren’t alive, and that meant he and his flock could attack the constructs with spiritual impunity. Not that it made much difference, since such was the strength of Fadari’s belief in the spirit who had just passed through the village that the monk would have doomed himself to a hundred hellish incarnations had that been necessary in order to protect the Prelate. The sun warmed his back, the holy man could see his breath, and he had never felt so good before.
The yellow-orange sun hung directly over head, so there were no shadows to speak of, just the unrelenting heat. Rebo ran his tongue over cracked lips, but his mouth was so dry that it didn’t make much difference. Four days had elapsed since they had departed the village of Urunu, and two days had passed since the near-disastrous attempt to travel at night. Although the trail was well-worn, and relatively easy to follow during daylight hours, the opposite was true at night. That was when the details that seemed so obvious at high noon disappeared, and, illuminated by nothing more than starlight, every branching of the trail looked equally important. And that was how the group had taken a wrong turn, and spent hours meandering through a maze of ravines, only to wind up in a box canyon just before sunrise.
That left the dispirited travelers with no choice but to follow the now-modest deposits of L-phant dung back to the point where the original mistake had been made in order to get back on course.
Thus having been forced to travel during the day, both the humans and the animals were teetering on edge of exhaustion. Having consumed their reservoirs of water and fat, the angens had taken on the
appearance of walking skeletons and were too tired to even complain. The humans were in somewhat better condition, thanks to the fact that they could ride, but water was in short supply, and the runner knew that it wouldn’t be long before he and his companions began to suffer from dehydration. That was what made the town of Higo so important. Although Hoggles had only passed through it once, and was therefore unsure exactly how many days would pass before it appeared, the heavy insisted they would come across it before long. Once they did, the travelers would have the opportunity to rest for a couple of days, feed and water the angens, and purchase some much-needed supplies.
And Rebo believed him. The problem was that he had seen, or thought that he had seen the community a dozen times by then, only to have seen buildings morph into chalky cliffs, its streets dissolve into rock-strewn steambeds, and its crenellated ramparts turn to dusty stone.
So, having been fooled many times, the runner didn’t take the clusters of what looked like trees very seriously until the distance closed, the greenery remained right where it was, and a faded sign appeared. It read, WELCOME TO HIGO. A message that would have been a good deal more convincing if it hadn’t been for the bullet holes that marred it.
Still, such was the group’s eagerness to enter a town, any town, that the humans perked up as the L-phants waved their trunks in the air, picked up the scent of water, and hurried to trumpet the news. Their calls were answered by angens located somewhere on the other side of Higo, thereby alerting residents to the fact that strangers were about.
A pack of half-starved dogs lay in the shade provided by a pod-heavy snap-snap tree, tongues lolling from their grinning mouths, as the newcomers plodded past. Had it been in the early morning, or in the late evening, the animals would have given chase but this was the middle of the day, a time when nothing moved unless it absolutely had to.
That imperative applied to humans as well, because as the travelers entered the town, it soon became apparent that the citizens of Higo were lying low, waiting for the worst of the heat to pass before emerging from their various lairs.
That didn’t mean that the travelers went unobserved however. Norr could feel the sudden spikes of energy as the locals took notice of the newly arrived foursome quickly followed by feelings of curiosity, avarice, and greed.
The structures that lined both sides of the dusty main street were made of adobe and equipped with deep porches. Some were simply places to get in out of the sun, but most had a commercial function as well, as was made clear by the signs that hung above them. Rebo counted four saloons, two eateries, one hotel, and one store, all of which signaled that while the drinks would be cheap, the rooms and the supplies wouldn’t be. And, in addition to the problems associated with buying supplies in a town with only one store, the runner knew it would be a challenge to keep what they already had. Because as the L-phants continued down Higo’s main street, the runner saw curtains move in upstairs windows, and knew that dozens of hungry eyes were taking inventory of the group’s scanty belongings.
Just as the angens neared the southern end of town, and Rebo was about to stop and ask someone for directions, he saw what he’d been looking for. A thick grove of trees, surrounded by high stone walls, and the unmistakable odor of L-phant dung.
There was water within, or so the runner assumed from the eagerness with which his mount approached the massive wooden gate and trumpeted loudly. A boy in a long, ragged shirt and sandals watched the angens with big eyes as they entered the enclosure before turning to push the door closed. There was the squeal of unoiled metal followed by a loud clang as the gate hit its stops.
Hoggles, who had last seen the enclosure during his flight north from Cresus many years before, was of the opinion that it hadn’t changed much. It was a little more dilapidated, if such a thing was possible, but essentially the same. Other angens were present, about two dozen of them, although the park was large enough to accommodate ten times that number. There was a cacophony of trumpeting, grunting, and farting as the animals greeted each other, and a pair of wizened men exited one of the huts and made their way forward. They were twins, but since both were named Abo, there was no need to figure out which was which, a convention Rebo approved of.
The decision of where to stay was made easy by the fact that the town had a single hotel. Having no reason to trust the Abo brothers, the runner insisted on having all of their belongings transported to the local hostelry, where they could be locked up, and would have taken the L-phants along, too, had that been possible.
Having been assured that the angens would be watered and fed, and accompanied by a dozen heavily burdened youngsters, the group trudged into town. The hotel had been named the Warfarer’s Rest by the man who built it, and since none of the subsequent owners had seen any reason to incur the expense of a new sign, the name was still in force.
Though dry as a bone at present, a veritable river of water flowed down the main street during the worst days of the rainy season, which explained why all of the buildings had been raised off the ground, and stairs led up to elevated walkway that connected the storefronts. The hotel’s lobby was spacious, if somewhat sparsely furnished, and open to the street. A ceiling fan turned slow circles as a girl on what had been a bicycle pedaled to make it move. Insects circled a scattering of tables, landed, and took off again. The proprietress sat behind a barricade-like counter and waited for the newcomers to approach. Her face was as expressionless as the lime green wall behind her.
Hoggles, who had been forced to sleep out on the edge of town during his previous visit, opened negotiations. Not because he truly believed that he would get the price down, but to establish that he and his friends were experienced travelers, and therefore not to be cheated any more than the regulars were.
After some hard bargaining the corpulent hotel owner dropped the outrageous price by a largely symbolic copper per room, handed the heavy two iron keys, and pointed toward a flight of stairs. “Your suites are upstairs and toward the back. It’s cooler there.”
Hoggles led the rest of the party upstairs and had to duck under a series of supportive crossbeams, before arriving in front of Room 203. The key turned smoothly, the door swung open, and if it was cooler inside, the heavy was unable detect it. The furnishings consisted of two mismatched beds, a rickety-looking chair, and a sooty oil lantern that sat on a beat-up table. “Well, here it is,” the variant said sarcastically. “Home sweet home.”
All of the gear that had been brought over from the caravan park had to be stowed and the next few minutes were spent stacking it along the walls of both 203 and 204. Unfortunately, much of it, especially the L-phant trappings, smelled like the animals themselves. That, combined with the warm air, made for a thick, rather unpleasant atmosphere. Norr opened the window in the room she was slated to share with Lee but discovered that it didn’t make any difference.
Once everything had been put away, and the youngsters had been paid off, it was time to take much-needed baths and share an enormous meal in the restaurant next door. The eatery was a natural gathering place, especially around lunchtime, which meant that the place was already more than half-full when the foursome arrived. Rebo took immediate note of the fact that just about all of the other customers were armed. Some, one group in particular, seemed to be especially interested in Hoggles. That wasn’t unusual, however, since the heavy stood out like a sore thumb.
Still, there was something about the way the men stared at Hoggles and continued to whisper among themselves that bothered the runner. So much so that he brought the matter to the heavy’s attention. “The three men in the corner seem to be especially interested in you . . . Have you seen them before?”
Hoggles, who was not only well aware of the threesome but worried about them shook his head. “Nope . . . People stare at me all the time. You know that.”
Rebo nodded but remained unconvinced. Though unwilling to discuss it, the variant was on the run from something. Why else would live like a hermit on board
a spaceship? And now, as they made their way toward the city where Hoggles had been born, there was something increasingly furtive about his behavior. Or was the runner imagining things? Rebo wasn’t sure, but made a note to keep an eye on the heavy, as well as those who seemed to be interested in him.
The food was surprisingly good, and having checked to ensure that the L-phants were receiving the best of care, the travelers retired to the hotel for much-deserved naps. The rooms were hot, and Rebo thought it would be impossible to sleep, until Norr entered the room, ripped the sheets off his bed, and dunked them in a bucket of water. Then, once they had been wrung out and replaced on his bed the runner discovered that it was miraculously if only temporarily cool.
The same brand of magic was soon applied to the heavy’s bed as well, and there was something about the brisk efficiency with which the sensitive saw to the needs of her strange brood that not only warmed Rebo’s heart but made him want to kiss her. But others were present so that was impossible. Still, there was an opportunity to touch her arm and look into her eyes. “Thank you, Lanni . . . For everything.”
Norr felt the pressure of the runner’s fingers and saw what was in his eyes. More than that she could “see” Rebo’s emotions in the rich panoply of color that rippled around him. She smiled. “You’re very welcome.”
Lee, who had witnessed the moment, made a face. In spite of the occasions on which he seemed to be something more, the youngster was still a ten-year-old boy. That meant he not only found expressions of adult affection to be somewhat embarrassing, but sometimes felt jealous as well. Especially where Norr was concerned. He tugged at the sensitive’s sleeve. “Come on, Lanni . . . Let’s do our sheets.”
Happily wrapped in the cool embrace of his sheets Rebo soon fell asleep, and such was his need for rest that the runner continued to snooze long after the fabric around him was dry and the sun had sunk into the west. And, had it not been for Norr’s insistent touch, the runner might have remained in bed even longer. “Jak . . . Wake up! Where’s Bo?”
Runner Page 27