Free Runner by William C. Dietz

had returned for a second or third load.
    So, eager to secure their places in the ship’s belly, a steady stream of travelers boarded the shuttle. All were heavily burdened because it had been a long, long time since anyone had been served a meal aboard a starship, and those who failed adequately to provide for themselves could starve or be forced into virtual slavery by the more provident.
    Most of the onlookers were simply curious and stared at the departing passengers with the same morbid fascination normally reserved for condemned criminals. There were others, however, like the father on the lookout for his run-away daughter, a merchant who wanted to ensure that an employee boarded safely, and the monk assigned to watch for a very special little boy. An assignment that he believed to be a complete waste of time since black hat spies had spotted the so-called Divine Wind taking his daily lessons on the roof of the red hat monastery that very morning, afact that suggested that the would-be imposter and his corrupt supporters were too frightened to board the ship and make the long, dangerous journey to the city of CaCanth. A trip that the real Nom Maa had begun—some six months earlier.
    With that in mind, Brother Wama leaned on his staff, enjoyed the warmth of the sun, and eyed the departing passengers. A merchant’s second son passed, complete with an entourage and enough supplies to sustain a small army. The merchant and his retinue were followed by a couple whose possessions hung under the pole that was stretched between them, a young man bent nearly double under the weight of his pack, and a sad looking fellow followed by an expensive coffin and four pallbearers, laborers from the look of them, who would exit the shuttle as soon as they had been paid.
    The monk’s thoughts were interrupted as one of his superiors appeared at his elbow, a rather nasty sort who aped humility but clearly aspired to higher office. “How’s it going?” Brother Fiva inquired, eyeing the steady stream of passengers. “Have you seen any sign of the imposter?”
    â€œNo,” the monk replied cautiously. “Not so far. In fact, come to think of it, I haven’t seen any children at all.”
    â€œNot that you know of anyway,” Fiva said critically. “For example, who, or what is hidden in the bundle that those people are carrying on that litter? You can’t tell from here.”
    â€œThat’s true,” Wama admitted. “But I don’t see . . .”
    â€œNo,” Fiva interrupted. “I’m sure you don’t. But there will be plenty of time to meditate on your shortcomings during the trip to Pooz. Someone must make the journey, and you were chosen. It’s unlikely, but if the imposter’s supporters managed to smuggle the little rascal aboard, the boy will be forced to reveal himself during the journey. If that occurs, it will be your task to kill him. Do you understand?”
    â€œYes,” the monk replied doubtfully. “But the trip will take weeks, I have no supplies, and . . .”
    â€œOn the contrary, your supplies are ready and waiting,” the older man replied, and toed a pack Wama hadn’t noticed before. “Good luck with your pilgrimage,” Fiva added sanctimoniously. “Our prayers will be with you.”
    That was when Wama realized that Fiva was taking advantage of the situation not only to place an agent on the ship but to open a slot for one of his toadies. The monk opened his mouth to object, saw that two members of the Dib Wa had materialized behind Fiva’s back, and bowed. “Can I have a weapon?”
    â€œYou’ll find a weapon in your pack,” Fiva replied gravely. “Make good use of it should you have the chance. Otherwise, report to the brothers on Pooz. They will find appropriate work for you to do.”
    Mas Wama considered making a run for it, knew the Dib Wa would catch