Telepath (A Hyllis Family Story #4)

by Laurence Dahners

  He was still tracking his vision with his ghost, and when he brought his vision down to look where he was going to start walking, his ghost saw a small warm spot down in the earth.

  All thoughts of going back to Farlin and the horses vanished. Tarc took a few steps forward and to his right. He stopped, not directly on top of the warm spot, but near enough so that he was looking almost straight down at it. The girl’s fallen in some kind of hole, he thought.

  But Tarc didn’t see any holes the kid could have fallen into and he couldn’t very well just shout “I found her” while pointing down into the ground.

  Tarc took a few steps this way and that, before he realized that looking for the opening the child had fallen into with his eyes wasn’t going to do it. He closed his eyes and squatted down to focus intently on what his ghost could feel underground, expecting to feel crevices and caves.

  Instead, he found a large chamber with square corners. It’s a room of one of the ancients’ buildings, he thought. He wondered, Why’d they build it underground?

  Deciding why they built underground wasn’t important; he tried to understand the shape of the room in hopes of figuring out where the child had fallen in. Even though he was close to the room, it wasn’t that easy to sense its interior since everything inside it was about the same temperature. Nonetheless, after a couple of moments, he realized the floor was sloped and that the little girl rested at the bottom of the slope.

  From there it was a short distance to the deduction that, for hundreds of years, dirt had been falling in through a hole along one wall, making the somewhat conical pile that the child had rolled down after falling through the hole the dirt had been entering.

  Locating the peak of the pile, Tarc turned and made his way toward that spot. The ground in that area was generally sunken in. It was deepest about five meters from where the girl’s mother thought she’d disappeared, but certainly the depression was in the same general area. When he arrived at that spot, Tarc sensed a more acute depression in the ground with his ghost and, with his eyes, saw it was hidden beneath some of the berry bushes. When he knelt down, he saw a funnel like slope slanting down to a child-sized vertical opening in a wall made of concrete, the rock like material the ancients had used to build their large projects. The depression was hidden beneath the brushy limbs.

  “Over here,” he shouted, pulling up on the brush to expose the hole. “There’s a hole.” He pulled out his work knife and started hacking away at the brush stems.

  The father got there first and, with an adrenaline-fueled feat of strength, grabbed the bush and pulled it up roots and all. This made the opening to the chamber obvious.

  The berry bush was growing in dirt that covered a horizontal slab of concrete. The edge of the horizontal slab sat on top of a vertical slab which had a defect in its upper end resulting in a substantial crevice between the two. As Tarc knew it had to be, it was large enough for a toddler. Unfortunately, it wasn’t big enough for an adult. He stared at the concrete, wondering how hard it would be to make the hole bigger.

  He backed slowly away. I’ve done the part that only I can do, he thought, wondering whether concrete was so strong that no one would be able to enlarge the hole. He realized he didn’t really want to find out that it was. I don’t have any way to make the hole bigger, so I’d just as well get back to the caravan.

  Just before Tarc turned to go, a boy who looked to be about six years old ran up and started trying to wedge himself through the gap. His head was too big, but it looked close.

  Maybe a five-year-old could get through and pull a rope down to the toddler?

  ~~~

  As he and Farlin made their way back to the caravan, Tarc felt conflicted. He worried a little that someone back at the site would wonder how he’d managed to find a hole no one else had seen. He knew Eva would think there was no question he should’ve helped find the girl, even if someone might think he used some kind of eerie power to do it. After all, she’d healed people in Realth even though it was actually against the law. On the other hand, he recognized his dad’s ethics on this kind of situation were more flexible. His father always contended that the Hyllises couldn’t help everyone in need.

  All in all, Tarc decided he was glad he’d found the kid for them, but that he’d made the right decision—to leave once he’d found the child, and before anyone could wonder how he’d done it. But, he thought guiltily, what if they can’t figure out how to get the kid up out of that hole? And I just walked away…

  After walking a little further, he decided he couldn’t think of a way to get the kid out of the underground room. He also decided that he shouldn’t tell anybody about the lost child or his role in finding him. Then he wouldn’t face questions from Daum about why he’d risked the family by getting involved. Or, even more pointed questions from his mother about why he hadn’t stayed to help the people there until they’d rescued the child.

  ~~~

  Back at the caravan, Tarc had just started unloading the wood onto the Hyllis’s woodpile when he winced as Farlin exclaimed to everyone, “Tarc found a lost child!”

  It was the lull before lunch, without many customers out at the booth yet. This meant that there was plenty of time for everyone to gather excitedly around, asking him questions. Though most people were disappointed to learn that Tarc hadn’t actually found the child, just a hole the kid had probably fallen into, there were still enough compliments flying around for him to feel good about his role.

  Tarc didn’t miss the meaningful glances from his parents, Daussie, and Kazy. As he’d expected, his mother looked proud but his father’s expression seemed more ambiguous.

  When he turned, he found Nylin staring at him, dark eyes aglow. She said, “You…” She broke off to wipe at suddenly flowing tears, “you’re such a…” She turned and walked away, her shoulders shaking.

  Tarc was just wondering why she was upset and whether he should be going after her when Kazy strode up and threw her arms around Nylin. Kazy turned momentarily to glare at Tarc, then led Nylin away. What’d I do? he wondered.

  Before he got too mired down in wondering about what was going on with Nylin, Henry Roper arrived, full of excitement. “I hear you found one of the ancients’ basements?!”

  “Um, it was just an underground room. There wasn’t a house above it like there is over a basement or cellar.”

  Henry blinked at him in surprise. “Come on Tarc, you know almost all the ancients’ houses have fallen down. A lot of their buildings were constructed over basements. They’d dig a big hole in the ground and build a room down there out of concrete. Then they’d build the house on top of it. I’ve heard several different explanations for why. One is that having a heavy concrete room underground anchored the house more securely. Another’s that the temperature stays cool underground so it was a good place to store food. Concrete’s so strong that it’s still there, long after the wooden house on top of it falls down and rots.”

  Tarc shrugged, “I know what a basement is. We had one underneath our inn. It was cool like you say so we used it to store wine, cheese, and beer.” He frowned, “I’ve never thought about how difficult it would’ve been to dig it, nor what the walls were made of. I suppose they weren’t made out of wood like the rest of the inn.”

  Roper nodded, “Yeah, I think wood tends to rot if it’s underground. But digging much of a basement’s really hard. If the one under the inn was big, there’s a good chance it was actually one of the ancients’ concrete basements and someone just built the inn on top of it.”

  “Oh,” Tarc said, wondering why he’d never looked at the walls of the basement. He had no idea whether they were concrete or not, he’d always pictured them as being made out of bricks… or wood. He realized he’d never given it sufficient thought to even wonder. He turned to Roper, “How did the ancients dig basements?”

  “They had powerful machines,” Roper said. “Do you think you could take me back out to this place where you found the base
ment? Sometimes there’re bits of ancient technology in the old basements, you know, when one’s found that’s been closed in until now.”

  “That’d be…” Tarc trailed off. He’d been about to tell Roper that most of the floor of the basement was covered with the dirt that’d fallen in through the crack over the centuries. But, he shouldn’t actually know the floor was covered since he hadn’t been in the basement. Instead, he said, “Wouldn’t any such tech belong to whoever owns the land?”

  Roper shrugged, “Sometimes no one’s claimed the land. Even if there is an owner, I’d like the opportunity to negotiate for whatever’s found.”

  Tarc looked around for his parents, “I’d be happy to go.” He grinned at Roper, “Beats slaving away around here. But I’d have to get my parents’ permission.”

  Roper grinned back at him, “Maybe I can hire your services.” He turned toward Daum.

  ~~~

  Not long after that, Tarc found himself taking Roper back out the road to the woodlot. Roper was leading one of his mules, hoping he’d find something so large he needed a mule to haul it back.

  Tarc thought about telling him there wasn’t anything that big in the basement but realized he couldn’t be sure there wasn’t something beneath all that dirt. Also, there’d been odd projections on the walls. There might be stuff on them, he hadn’t paid them much attention. After a while, he thought about how he should’ve told Roper they’d need a shovel, but since he couldn’t have known there was dirt covering the floor, that was impractical too.

  He had told Roper that the opening into the basement was too small to get in through and asked him whether it was possible to cut through concrete. In response to this, Roper had borrowed a big cold chisel and a small sledgehammer from Mason, one of the caravaners who sold tools.

  ~~~

  When they arrived back at the location where the girl’d been lost, a distraught crowd still milled around the opening to the basement.

  Tarc noticed the man who’d first told him what was going on. Sidling up next to the man, he asked, “What’s going on now?”

  Evidently not recognizing that he’d spoken to Tarc before, the guy said, “A two-year-old girl disappeared. Some teenager managed to find a hole in the ground near where the girl vanished. Since they can’t find the child anywhere else, they’ve decided she fell down the hole, but the hole’s too small for anyone to climb through.”

  “Are they making the hole bigger?”

  The man shook his head, “They bashed at it with another rock for a while, but didn’t make much progress.” Sounding a little incredulous, the man said, “Now the dad’s lowered his four-year-old down the hole on a rope. The idea was that the four-year-old was supposed to go get the two-year-old.”

  Tarc remembered that he’d thought it’d be a tall task for the six-year-old who’d been trying to get through the hole when he left. Tarc thought it likely beyond the capabilities of a four-year-old. Doubtfully, he said, “Is that working?”

  “No,” the man snorted. “It’s dark down there and the kid’s scared. He won’t leave the lighted area near the opening to go look for his sister.”

  “Can’t they give him a lamp?”

  “Tried that. He dropped it and it rolled away down some kind of slope. The lamp went out and the kid won’t go after it. Now they’re trying to get the four-year-old back out of there, but that’s not going very well either.” The man sighed, “It’s a real cluster.”

  Tarc glanced at Roper. He looked unhappy. They slowly worked their way deeper into the crowd around the opening. When they got close enough to see, Tarc could tell the men had dug a big pit in the dirt around the opening in the concrete. The pit was big enough for several of them to stand in. At present, the tot’s father had his arm in the opening up to his shoulder. After a bit, he grunted, “Got ’im.”

  A moment later the father pulled his son’s arm out through the opening. After a great deal of twisting and tugging—the father all the while shouting complex instructions at his son—they finally pulled the crying four-year-old out of the hole. The crowd breathed a sigh of relief, but the mother who rushed forward to take him fumed with anger.

  When the mother pushed her way out of the crowd with her sobbing four-year-old, Tarc wormed his way into the gap she’d left. He called down to the men clustered around the hole. “We’ve brought a hammer and chisel. Would you like us to see if we can enlarge the hole?”

  There still didn’t appear to be anyone in charge of the rescue. The father was trying to peer through the opening and didn’t seem to notice the question. The men down there looked at one another and one tentatively reached out a hand.

  Tarc turned back to Roper who handed him the big chisel and hammer. “Don’t you need to show them how they’re used?”

  Roper shrugged, “I’m not particularly good with them. Let’s see how they do. If they don’t seem to know how to use them, I’ll offer suggestions.”

  After a few minutes, the defeated looking father pulled back from the hole. “I can hear her crying,” he said, tears in his eyes.

  The other man said, “Someone’s brought us a hammer and chisel. Let me have a go.”

  The cluster of men climbed up out of the pit they’d dug, giving the man with the chisel room to work.

  He called over a boy Tarc thought looked to be about ten years old. After looking at the boy’s head and shoulders, the man scratched out an oval on the concrete around the hole—apparently outlining a hole the size the man thought the boy could crawl through. Then he placed the chisel on the outline and started hammering.

  Tarc was terribly disappointed. It wasn’t that the chisel was completely ineffective, but that the progress it made seemed so slow. It generated dust and chips, but at the rate it was progressing, Tarc thought it might take a day or two to sufficiently enlarge the hole.

  One of the other men complained that the man chiseling wasn’t doing it right, at which point he was handed the hammer and chisel. Tarc thought the man who’d been wielding it looked happy to get rid of it.

  The boy’s father took the next turn, wielding the hammer with a will, but Tarc didn’t think he made any better progress.

  The men who’d been down in the pit rotated the work amongst themselves. Some were better and some were worse. One took an errant swing with the hammer, striking his own hand where it held the chisel. Cursing, he retired himself from the rotation.

  Tarc wondered whether the man had broken one of the bones in his hand, but the man didn’t come close enough—or hold still enough—for Tarc’s ghost to evaluate it.

  The men went through another rotation, then one of them said irritably, “Anyone else want to take a turn?”

  Tarc lifted his hand. The look he got told him the men thought he was too young to get much done, nonetheless they let him down for a turn. Knowing he was pretty strong from hauling wood and water, Tarc hoped to show them up.

  After a few swings, he was chagrined to realize he wasn’t making any better progress than they had—perhaps worse. Daum had once commented that the muscles of full-grown men might not look as pretty as those on a teenager, but that they had more power. It seemed to Tarc that Daum might be right. If only my ability was… his thoughts broke off at the realization that his ability might not be good for cutting concrete, but that Daussie’s would be. At the least, she could cut little discs out of the concrete that would weaken it for the chisel. And how would we make that happen? he wondered. Bring her out here and say, “Could everyone stand back while my sister holds her head down near the hole for a while?” And, when it worked, they’d have to flee the area for fear of being thought witches.

  When he paused to wipe away some of his sweat, he had another idea. Even though this concrete’s really strong, it just fell apart in this one area. Maybe it had some kind of flaw or defect in it? He sent in his ghost. There’re holes in it!

  Back when the ancients built the basement, bubbles had been trapped in the concrete due to sloppy
attention to detail during mixing and pouring. Then, the worker assigned to vibrate that section—in order to remove entrapped bubbles before the concrete set up—took an unauthorized break. Over the years, water collected in the bubbles. Expansion and contraction of that water during freeze-thaw cycles had produced the fractures that had opened the hole the child fell through. The bubbles extended well beyond the area that’d already failed and Tarc could sense these additional defects.

  He stepped to his left and placed the chisel over a crack he sensed. It extended from a large bubble up to the surface of the concrete. The man who’d outlined the opening they’d been cutting just had time to say, “Hey, stay on the…!” when Tarc struck the chisel and it plunged into the concrete.

  The chisel sank in about four centimeters. When Tarc tried to pull it loose, it was jammed. He felt a brief moment of panic, wondering whether he might not be able to get it back out, but when he hammered sideways on the back end of the chisel, it spalled off a large chunk of concrete.

  One of the men standing behind him exclaimed, “How’d you do that?!”