Runner (32 page)

But it was the brightly attired crowd that had gathered in front of the temple that claimed Rebo's attention, not to mention the temporary gallows that had been established there and the frail little girl who stood with a noose looped around her neck. “They're wearing red hats,” Rebo observed dryly. “I assume that qualifies them as friends of yours.”

“Not necessarily,” Lee replied, as he stepped up onto the surface of the seat in order to get a better view. “They plan to kill that girl! You must stop them! And that's an order.”

Whatever else he might or might not be, Lee was a ten-year-old boy and in no position to give orders. But such was the authority in his voice that Rebo hesitated for a moment, and had just opened his mouth to put the youngster in his place, when the second L-phant drew up alongside the first. “I think you should listen to him,” Norr put in. “They plan to kill a little girl! It isn't right.”

Rebo's mouth closed, then opened again. “Are the two of you crazy? We could bring the entire population of the
village down on us . . . Besides, how the hell would I stop them? We'd never get down there in time.”

“Shoot the rope,” Lee replied pragmatically. “You can do it if you wear your glasses.
Please,
” the boy implored him. “Trust me.”

The runner looked into Lee's eyes and would have sworn that the personality reflected in them was different somehow. Rebo mumbled to himself as he laid the rifle across his knees and fumbled for his glasses. Then, with the spectacles firmly planted on his nose, he looked down through the open sights. A cheer went up as a red-robed monk finished exhorting the crowd, and a man with a wooden mallet prepared to knock a plank out from under the girl's slipper-clad feet.

The off-worlder needed time, a lot of it, but knew he wouldn't get any. Steadily flapping prayer pennants pointed in the direction that the wind was blowing and the runner made a tiny adjustment to compensate for it. As the executioner pulled the mallet back, and the little girl closed her eyes, Rebo fired. The hammer hit the plank, the bullet nicked the rope, and the youngster fell. Norr gave an audible gasp, but the girl's weight was sufficient to break the remaining strands of fiber, and the prisoner was still alive when she landed on the flagstones below.

The crowd flinched as the gunshot echoed back and forth between the hillsides before turning to see where the bullet had come from. The monk shouted something incomprehensible and pointed up at the L-phants. “She isn't out of danger yet,” Lee said grimly, as an old man hobbled forward to help the girl up. “Take me down there.”

“Sure,” Rebo replied sarcastically. “Why force the villagers to climb the hill? Let's go down where they can dismember us more easily.”

But the boy was determined, and truth be told, having saved the little girl once, the runner wasn't about to let the locals hang her again. So the crowd swirled as the L-phants lumbered down into the village. Weapons appeared, and Rebo began to sweat. They might be farmers, but the villagers were tough enough to keep bandits at bay, and it wasn't long before he and his companions were completely surrounded by rifle-wielding locals. The angens came to a halt, and Lee stood on the seat. His hands were on his hips and his anger was plain to see.
“You!”
he said as he pointed at the red-robed monk. “What is your name? And what is going on here?”

The words were in Tilisi, and delivered with such authority, that a stir ran through the crowd. The holy man's long, narrow face darkened, his eyes seemed to converge on each other, and his voice was stern. “My name is Fas Fadari,” the local replied. “Who are
you?
”

“Switch to standard,” Rebo ordered, his eyes sweeping the crowd. “We need to understand what's being said.”

“My name is Nom Maa,” the boy replied confidently. “I hold the rank of Prelate, and as such, expect to be treated with the respect due a person of my seniority.”

Due to the fact that the L-phants stood side by side Rebo and Norr were seated only a few feet apart. They looked at each other in amazement as the boy with whom they had been traveling laid claim to both an attitude and a title they hadn't been exposed to before.

The monk appeared to be a little less sure of himself at that point but remained defiant. The contempt that was visible on his face extended to his voice. “Oh,
really?
Well, your highness, perhaps you would be so good as to prove your identity.”

Lee was at a complete loss. He carried no badge of office,
no symbolic scepter, nothing beyond the testimony of his personal bodyguard, which the monk was sure to disregard. Suddenly what had previously seemed so simple, so obvious, wasn't any longer. The silence had grown long and thin by that time, and it was clear that Fadari was about to dismiss the youth as an imposter, when Norr came to Lee's rescue. “Tell him that you can see an old man with a long white beard standing at his right side,” the sensitive whispered from a few feet away. “Tell him that the old man is saddened by what nearly took place.”

So Lee did, and no sooner were the words out of his mouth than a loud murmur ran through the crowd, and every man, woman, and child bowed. Because the man the boy described could be none other than the hermit who once lived in the hills above and passed away the year before. Fadari looked stricken. “Ona (truth giver) Hybok is
here?
Beside me?”

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.