Runner (28 page)

TEN
The Planet Ning

Each incarnation can be viewed as a pilgrimage in which we will encounter many obstacles. It is how we react to those obstacles, and the choices that we make in response to them, that determines the extent of our progress.

—The ascended master Teon,
The Way

The angen's hooves made a methodical
clop, clop, clop
sound and an axle squeaked monotonously as the bread wagon bumped and clattered its way along the misty alleyway to the point where a trio of overflowing garbage bins guarded the rear entrance of the hotel. That was where Omar said, “Whoa!” pulled the slack out of the reins, and brought the conveyance to a rattling stop.

The travelers were ready. Hoggles carried Lee out through the portal, lifted the boy into the back of the wagon, and climbed in after him. Norr went next, closely followed by Rebo, who pulled the tailgate up behind him and latched it in place. Then, having dropped the rear curtain and tied it down, the runner rapped three times. The reins made a slapping sound as they hit the angen's back, and the wagon
jerked into motion. The entire process took less than a minute, and thanks to the early-morning hour, went unobserved. Or so the travelers hoped.

Though empty of bread, the cargo compartment was already half-full of supplies when the foursome had boarded the wagon, which meant that it was crowded. Especially given how much space the heavy required. But Rebo considered that to be a small price to pay if he and his companions could escape the city undetected. Something that would have been easy prior to Lee's midnight outing, but had subsequently been transformed into a major operation, a fact not lost on the boy himself.

As the wagon bounced and swayed Lee felt his stomach rumble in response to the mouthwatering odor that lingered from the previous day's load of bread, and wondered if he would ever manage to regain the runner's trust. One thing was for sure, no matter how long he lived, the boy knew he would never forget the moment when he opened the hotel room door to discover that he had been missed. Both Rebo and Hoggles had been out looking for him, while Norr remained behind to coordinate the search and solicit help from the spirit world.

The sensitive gave a cry of joy as Lee entered the room, pulled the boy into her arms, and gave him a hug. She was in the process of chewing him out when Rebo returned. A variety of emotions had registered on the runner's face beginning with relief, quickly followed by anger, and a look of profound disappointment.

And it was the last, the loss of Rebo's respect and trust, that Lee regretted the most. He said as much to Norr the following day, hoping that she might intervene on his behalf, but was disappointed when the sensitive told him something the boy already knew. “Trust is a fragile
thing . . . It takes a long time to establish, and once created, can easily be destroyed. There are no shortcuts. Decision by decision, action by action, that's the way to rebuild Rebo's trust.”

The words not only rang true, but resonated with the older, more mature being that dwelt deep inside him, a fact that made Lee all the more determined to restore that which had been frittered away.

It took the better part of a long, uncomfortable hour for the bread wagon to clear the eastern gate, pass through the street of thieves, and rumble out onto the dirt road that paralleled the Xee River. Thanks to Omar's encyclopedic knowledge of the caravans as well as the nomads themselves, Rebo had been able to purchase two prime angens the previous afternoon, and now it was time to claim them. It wasn't long before the wagon turned off the main track, rolled past a couple of well-armed guards, and the entered the semipermanent encampment maintained by Pithri Gorgo, the self-styled “King of L-phants.” He was an entrepreneur who, though dishonest, was widely believed to be less dishonest than most of his peers, and therefore a good person to do business with.

Omar pulled on the reins, the wagon came to a halt, and Norr slid the rear curtain to one side. The sun had risen by then, the mist had been vanquished, and the encampment was coming back to life now that the hours of darkness were at an end. Cook fires sent delicate spirals of smoke up toward the sky, and a battalion of children were busy carrying buckets of water up to their mothers. Later, after that chore had been completed, they would turn their attention to the L-phants. Each animal had to be fed and checked for sores prior to being led down to the river to drink.

Rebo dropped the tailgate and jumped down to the
ground. Gorgo was famous for the quality of his hospitality, so it was only a matter of moments before a teenaged girl arrived with a load of caf and hot fry bread. “Try it,” Omar suggested, as he accepted a steaming cup. “I think you'll like it.”

None of them had eaten prior to departure, so Rebo took a bite, and soon discovered that the old man was correct. The fry bread had a crunchy exterior, had been liberally sprinkled with cinnamon, and went well with the black caf.

Gorgo arrived a few minutes later. His thick black hair was wet, as if he had just emerged from a dip in the river, and his white robe was spotless. “So,” the merchant said, thereby offering his customers an extravagant display of white teeth, “you are on time. Please follow me . . . Your L-phants are ready.”

A few steps carried the travelers over to a huge tree, where two of the mighty beasts stood waiting, their rear legs chained together to prevent them from wandering off. Although Rebo had observed L-phants from a distance, he had never stood next to one until the previous afternoon, and was still astounded by how large they were. The beasts weren't native to Ning, but were believed to be the bioengineered descendants of animals that humans had brought with them more than a million years before.

Having been specifically bred to carry heavy loads over long distances while subject to Ning's gravity, the L-phants had huge six-ton bodies supported by four massive column-like legs. But, what made these particular creatures different from all of the other angens Rebo had seen was not only their size, but the fact that they lacked heads. In an effort to lengthen their torsos and maximize their ability to carry cargo, L-phant brains had been relocated into the anterior portion of their chests. The animals' eyes were located there,
too, which meant that while they had an excellent view of the trail ahead, they couldn't scan the horizon for danger. This modification assumed a symbiotic relationship with humans, who would eternally bear responsibility for spotting and protecting the angens from potential enemies.

Not that the animals were entirely helpless, since each L-phant was equipped with a long, flexible trunk that extended from the area immediately over its eyes and could be used for eating, drinking, and fighting. Other attributes, like their heat-sensitive skins, and the special subcutaneous tissues that could store up to fifty gallons of water, were a good deal less obvious, but just as important to performing their intended function. That was to carry people and goods over long distances. Never mind the fact that the animals produced enormous mounds of manure, were notoriously flatulent, and eternally cranky. “So,” Gorgo said, as he patted a leathery flank, “if you would be so kind as to hand over the remainder of the purchase price, we can finalize this transaction. The sunny south awaits!”

Rebo was already in the process of reaching for his purse when Omar interrupted. “Excuse me, but a mistake has been made. Yesterday, while you were finalizing the price, I scratched my initials into each animal's skin. That angen still bears my mark . . . but this one doesn't. A mix-up perhaps?”

In spite of the fact that Omar knew there hadn't been any mix-up, he had been careful to leave Gorgo with a way out, which the merchant was quick to take advantage of. “Please accept my most sincere apologies! The children who brought animals out of the corral clearly made a mistake. I can assure you that they will be punished. In the meantime have some more caf . . . I will remove this beast and return with the correct angen.”

Rebo waited until the merchant was well out of earshot
before turning to Omar. “Thank you! I missed the switch. What sort of scam was he trying to pull?”

“It's hard to know for sure,” the oldster replied. “But I suspect that this particular L-phant, the one he tried to give you, is healthy but two or three years older than the one I initialed yesterday. It's a small thing, but lots of small profits can add up to a large one, which is one of the reasons why Gorgo does so well.”

“Thank you,” Rebo said sincerely, as he offered Omar a handful of coins. “I won't forget your kindness.”

“It's nothing,” the old man replied as he watched the remaining L-phant run its potentially lethal trunk over Lee's head and shoulders. It constituted a rather unusual display of affection given the fact that the huge beasts were famously bad-tempered. “Be sure to take good care of that boy . . . I don't know why, but he strikes me as special somehow.”

“He's disobedient at times,” the runner observed, “but so was I! He doesn't know that, however—which is just as well.”

Both men laughed as Gorgo returned with a second beast. Omar verified the presence of his mark, money changed hands, and a bill of sale was executed. It took the better part of an hour to hoist the formfitting cargo boxes into place, secure them with straps that passed beneath huge bellies, and load them with supplies that had been removed from Omar's wagon.

Then, once the L-phants had been ordered to kneel, the travelers took their places on the bench-style seats that were built into each cargo box. Rebo watched with interest as Lee made use of a four-foot-long ponga rod to touch a massive shoulder before tapping on it twice. The runner quickly discovered that it was necessary to hang on as the animal lurched from one side to the other as it came to its feet.

Gorgo, along with some of the members of his extended
family, were clearly surprised by the ease with which the boy had assumed control of the angen, and there was a scattering of applause as the L-phant stood.

Meanwhile, the second beast, the one that Norr and Hoggles were supposed to ride, refused to stand. The heavy, who had assumed the role of L-phant driver, frowned. The ponga rod made a slapping sound as it hit the animal's hide, and each time it made contact, Norr “saw” lightninglike flashes of orange and red ripple through the envelope of energy that surrounded the angen, a sure sign that the beast was experiencing pain. “Here,” the sensitive said, holding her hand out. “Let me try.”

Hoggles didn't want to surrender the rod, not with the nomads looking on, but forced himself to do so. Rather than strike the animal as the heavy had, Norr made use of the very tip of the rod to scratch the spot where she sensed that the L-phant had a persistent itch, and was rewarded with sparks of bright blue light. The angen stirred, and the sensitive grinned as the beast came to its feet.

There was a second cheer as Rebo waved to Omar, the L-phants got under way, and an unofficial escort comprised of noisy children and their equally boisterous dogs ran alongside. Ten minutes later the last youngster had fallen away, the angens had established their normal rhythm, and the runner had begun to wonder whether his stomach would ever become accustomed to the rocking motion. He rubbed his amulet in hopes that it could counter motion sickness and soon felt better.

In spite of Rebo's considerable misgivings where Valpoon and the tribesmen were concerned, the runner was pleased to discover that the nomad and his family were not only packed but eager to leave. So much so that the chieftain ordered the travelers into the line and led the caravan out
onto the main road without so much as a perfunctory inspection of their animals and gear. And, once under way, the column moved with what the runner thought was admirable speed. Within a matter of minutes they had splashed through the glittering Xee River, climbed the opposite bank, and turned toward the south.

Given that the L-phants could walk at six miles per hour and maintain that speed all day, Rebo estimated that the caravan could make the trip to the city of Cresus in about sixteen days, assuming that all went well, and twenty days even if they didn't. Such pace would still put them at the spaceport with three days to spare. Assuming the spaceship remained operable and actually appeared. They had been fortunate in that regard, but there was no way to tell when their luck might run out.

Of course, there was nothing that Rebo or anyone else could do about that, except keep on going, and hope for the best. The runner took the opportunity to look back over his shoulder, saw no signs of pursuit other than that provided by a couple of mangy-looking mutts, and turned back again. Satisfied that he and his companions had managed to slip out of Zand unnoticed, and still feeling a little woozy, the runner allowed his eyes to close. Not to sleep, but in an attempt to reduce sensory input and thereby quiet his rebellious stomach. Had Rebo's eyes been open, and had he been looking toward the west, he might have seen the glint of sunlight reflecting off a well-polished lens. But the moment passed, the caravan made its way up out of the river bottom, and the horizon beckoned. The journey to Cresus had begun.

The novelty of riding on L-phants, and the newness of the
planetscape around them held the travelers' attention at first; but as time passed with only a brief stop for lunch to
break the monotony, their interest soon started to wane. And later, having been seduced by both the warmth of the sun and the steady sway of animals beneath them, all of the off-worlders eventually fell asleep. Even Rebo, whose stomach had troubled him earlier, sat with his chin resting on his chest.