Telepath (A Hyllis Family Story #4)

by Laurence Dahners

  Eva laughed, “You have almost as much to learn as Vyrda, don’t you? But I’ll bet even Daussie hasn’t read about the ancients’ discipline of anesthesia. Those were the medical specialists who used various medicines to put people to sleep for surgeries. It’ll be so wonderful if you can do the same thing for us.”

  ~~~

  The first places they visited in Clancy Vail were taverns. Vyrda took them to the Odd Duck, the best-known of the various taverns. Rather than going in right then, they agreed to meet Daussie and Kazy there for lunch and to compare notes at noon.

  Vyrda took Daum and Eva to several other taverns so they could feel out the competition. No one dreamed that Eva could entirely support them by healing, or even by teaching and healing. Therefore, they’d need to continue plying their previous trades.

  They bought a beer and a plate of food at each location, tasting them in order to get some idea of how difficult it’d be to compete for the local customers.

  As they walked from one to the next, Eva turned to Vyrda and asked, “How is ownership determined in this area?” When Vyrda looked puzzled, she amplified, “For instance, if we wanted to buy someone else’s tavern, or building, or even just buy land outside the walls to build our own tavern. Would we just find the present owner and negotiate a price with them? Or does it have to be approved by the sheriff or something?”

  Vyrda got an unhappy look. “We don’t have a sheriff here. The, uh, ‘man in charge,’ so to speak, is called the ‘Baron.’ It’s an inherited position, passed down from father to son. Our current one,” she made a face, “just inherited from his father earlier this year. His father was respected but the current Baron Vail’s been… capricious.”

  “Does he have to approve sales of land?”

  Vyrda shook her head. “You can’t buy land, because it all belongs to the Baron. You can only ‘lease’ it. That’s the way taxes are collected here.”

  Daum stared, “How’s the rent determined?!”

  “At the whim of the Baron. That’s what I meant when I said that current Baron’s been capricious. He’s raised the rent on people who’ve angered him.”

  Daum shot Eva a look, “This doesn’t sound like the kind of place we’d want to stay.”

  Eva patted him on the shoulder and said, “We’ve never lived in a place where we liked the leadership. You didn’t like Sheriff Walter back in Walterston. His replacement by Krait was horrific. The next sheriff was better than Krait, but worse than Walter. The king of Realth was terrible. I think if we decide to wait to settle down somewhere that has an excellent leader, we’ll be on the road the rest of our lives.” She turned to Vyrda, “If you lease some land and build a building on it, what happens to your building if he raises the lease so you have to leave?”

  She shrugged, “You do own the building. You can try to take the building with you or you can sell it to whoever leases the land next.”

  “Take it with you?!” Daum exploded.

  “Some people tear them down and sell the lumber if they don’t get a good price on the building.”

  Eva had a curious look on her face, “Why would anyone want to take over the lease if it was so high the first person couldn’t make ends meet?”

  Reluctantly, Vyrda explained, “Baron Vail’s been known to raise the rate on a parcel of land one of his friends wants.” She shrugged, “He lowers the rate again after his friend takes it over.”

  Though Daum looked like he was ready to chew nails, Eva went on with her questions. “What about for land outside the walls?”

  Vyrda made a face, “The rent’s much lower, of course. And, you’re entitled to come inside the walls if there’s a war or something like that. But, you have essentially no protection from common robbers or raiders.”

  “What if you’re making your money through mining or salvage? Somehow taking something out of the ground and selling it for a profit? Does the rent to go up?”

  “I don’t think so. But I also don’t think there’s anything to mine or salvage around here.”

  ***

  Tarc went into Clancy Vail with Farlin, Nylin, and Grace. Despite tension over their unknown future, they were all in a good mood to have a day off. Well, except for Nylin. She walked along with her eyes down as always. Tarc turned to them, “If we decide to stay here in Clancy Vail, will you stay as well? Or are you going to try to continue on with the caravan?”

  Farlin’s eyes flicked over to Nylin, then returned to Tarc. Nylin’s eyes didn’t lift. Farlin said, “We’ve got to try to continue on to Murchison. Nylin’s betrothed has to be wondering what’s happened to us.”

  Grace said, “I want to stay with you Hyllises.”

  “Um,” Tarc began, wondering how to broach a sensitive subject. He studied Farlin, “Have you asked any of the other caravaners if they’d take you on?”

  Farlin shook his head, “I’ll have to do that tonight.” He glanced around the town, “Or, if we encounter any of the caravaners here in Clancy Vail, maybe I can ask them during the day today.” He grimaced, “What am I saying. They’ll all be working their booths back at the caravan field. We’ll have to go back and start asking them this afternoon.” He looked at Tarc, “Do you think your father’d pay us some money for the days we’ve already worked for him? And maybe lend us some money for our passage, to be repaid once Nylin’s married?”

  Tarc looked past Farlin to Nylin. She still didn’t look up. Her long silky hair hung over her face so he couldn’t see it well. Nonetheless, he thought her posture expressed dismay. She gave a tiny sharp shake of her head. Tarc reflected on the fact that Nylin had the money she’d dug up back in the Ragas’ camp. He didn’t know how much it was, but she didn’t seem to be offering it to her brother to help buy them passage. Why’d I get myself in the middle of a family disagreement? he wondered. Finally, he said, “Remember, my family didn’t ask you to work for us. We took you in. We didn’t make any agreement to pay you a wage. I’m not sure what my parents will think about paying you, but they may not feel like they owe you much since your help didn’t let us earn more from sales of our food. Besides, are you sure your sister wants to marry this guy?”

  Farlin didn’t look to Nylin for a response. He said, “I don’t see that we have a choice. It’s what my father’d decided and already agreed to. And now…” He paused for a moment, then said in a plaintive rush, “We don’t have any money. I don’t know what else we can do.”

  Tarc looked at Nylin again, thinking that if Farlin didn’t think they had any money, she hadn’t shared hers with him. She continued to keep her eyes down. Why doesn’t she tell us what she wants? he wondered.

  ~~~

  Tarc and the others wandered Clancy Vail, spending the coppers Daum had given each of them—for the most part on the kinds of sweets they rarely got in the caravan. After exploring all morning, they settled at some outdoor tables, each with a slice of cheese, a hunk of bread and a small beer.

  Tarc thought he wouldn’t mind living in this town and wondered whether his parents had decided what they were going to do. Starting out in a new town’ll be financially difficult though, he thought. I wonder whether they’ll think they can continue to employ Grace?

  Suddenly, a large man stopped at their table. “Are you from the caravan?” he asked in a peremptory tone.

  The man was looking at Farlin, older than Tarc, though younger than Grace. Tarc started to respond, but realizing he hadn’t been addressed, he subsided.

  Farlin simply nodded.

  “Have you seen my fiancée, Vyrda? She went to the caravan this morning and hasn’t come back.” The man’s tone seemed angry.

  Farlin nervously glanced at Tarc.

  Tarc wondered whether Farlin even knew that the healer who’d come into town with his parents was named Vyrda. He also wondered whether he should answer this angry man, but decided it wasn’t his place to dissemble. He nodded, “She’s helping my parents.”

  “Where?! She’s not at her shop.”

&n
bsp; Irritated, Tarc reminded himself to stay calm—at least outwardly. He shrugged and said, “I don’t know. Somewhere here in town”

  The man grabbed the front of Tarc’s shirt, pulling him to his feet.

  ~~~

  Nylin couldn’t keep her eyes downcast any longer. She lifted them just far enough to see what was happening. Despite the man being much bigger than he was, Tarc looked calmly unfrightened. In fact, his face appeared completely placid. He spoke slowly but clearly, saying, “I haven’t seen them since early this morning. I have no way of knowing where they are.”

  The big man shook him. “Where do you think they are?” he asked threateningly.

  “Honestly, I’ve got no way of telling. I don’t know this town. But, I assure you she’s in no danger. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed, and he gave Tarc a little shake. “Are you jerking my chain?”

  “No, I’m not.” Tarc gave him a puzzled look, “What are you worried about?”

  The man snarled, “She’s not supposed to go anywhere without telling me first. Her home or her shop. Otherwise, I’m supposed to know. That’s what I’m worried about.”

  Looking curious, Tarc asked, “Why would you need to know every place she goes?”

  “Because… She’s mine.”

  Looking troubled, Tarc said, “Mine? Like a dog? Or like a slave?”

  Holding Tarc shirt with one hand, the big man drew back his other fist—

  Nylin leaped to her feet. Throwing both arms around the man’s elbow, she collapsed, dragging his arm down with her.

  Trying to throw her off, the man got in two good violent shakes of his arm, then suddenly stopped moving.

  Not sure what was happening, Nylin looked up again. The man was pale as milk. His eyes were focused down onto a sword, the tip of which touched his neck. Nylin slid her eyes back along the shaft of the sword to see Tarc’s girlfriend, Lizeth, holding it. Lizeth grinned as she said, “I think you should let go of my friend, don’t you?”

  Red-faced with fury, the man let go of Tarc’s shirt and slowly lowered the right arm Nylin was clinging to.

  Tarc still looked calm. He said, “I’m not sorry I don’t know where Vyrda is. I think men who believe they own other people are particularly loathsome. But, I’ll be sure to tell her you dropped by for a chat.”

  Nylin stared at Tarc for a moment before she dropped her eyes again. Is he crazy? This is the kind of man that’ll find him again later. Next time he’ll just make sure Lizeth isn’t around before he attacks.

  Stiff-backed, the man turned and strode away.

  Tarc turned to Nylin and gently said, “Thank you for your help.”

  Nylin’s heart bounded at Tarc’s recognition, but before she could say anything, he turned to Lizeth and said, “We’re having bread, cheese, and beer. Would you like to join us?”

  Lizeth grinned and pulled a chair over next to Tarc, waving at the serving boy. She turned to Tarc, “What’d you do to get that man so excited?”

  Tarc shrugged, “My mother made friends with one of the local healers. She turns out to be his fiancée. Apparently, he doesn’t like for her to go anywhere without his permission.”

  Lizeth sent an ugly look after the man. In a disgusted tone, she muttered, “I hate men like that.” Then she looked around, smiled, and said, “But he’s gone. When I heard you guys were taking the day off, I traded shifts with Jason so I could come see the sights with you.”

  Nylin’s heart sank…

  ***

  When they finished eating, Lizeth adroitly separated Tarc and herself from the other three. Farlin had said something about how he needed to ask the other caravaners about jobs. That gave Lizeth the opening she needed. Now, as they strolled down the street, she turned to Tarc, “I hear your family’s thinking about staying here in Clancy Vail?”

  Though her tone was light, Tarc felt the weight behind the question. They’d never talked about their future, but he guessed the future’d arrived and it wanted to be decided now. He stopped walking and look her in the eye, “They are. Have you—"

  Lizeth interrupted, looking pissed. “Did you give any thought to letting me know?!”

  Tarc calmed himself. She’s just upset. “I just found out about it this morning myself. I looked around, but couldn’t find you.”

  “Some of us have jobs to do.”

  “Have you ever thought of settling down yourself?”

  “No.” She glanced away, then back. “It’s not easy for a girl, no matter how good she is, to find a job as a guard. When you get a good position, you don’t give it up lightly.” She glanced meaningfully at the shoulder which hid his throwing knives. “You ever think of taking a job as a caravan guard?”

  Tarc studied her, “I didn’t think Norton or Arco wanted any more guards.”

  She shrugged, granting the point. “I think they’d change their minds if they knew that, between you and your dad, you’re actually the better archer.”

  Tarc thought longingly about staying on the road. Then he remembered his resolution to be a healer, not a killer. Well, at least more healer than killer. To Lizeth, he said, “Maybe, but I can’t leave my mom. She needs my help to be able to do some of her healings.”

  Lizeth stared at him for a moment, then her shoulders fell and she sighed, “If you don’t want to go with me, just say it. You don’t have to hide behind your mother’s skirts.” She turned and started walking away.

  Horrified, Tarc didn’t know what to say. She’d gone a few steps before Tarc managed to choke out, “Lizeth! Wait.”

  She turned, a dubious expression on her face.

  Tarc reached in his pocket and pulled out his last copper. He quickly checked it to make sure it was one of the ones that were stamped with someone’s face on one side, then he looked up at her. “I’d like you to try something. It’s kind of like how you were catching the nail.”

  Lizeth rolled her eyes, “If I catch the copper, you’re going to go with the caravan…? And if I don’t, you’re going to stay here in Clancy Vail?”

  “You know, we might all still be with the caravan. My parents haven’t decided to stay in Clancy Vail.” Tarc paused for a moment, but Lizeth said nothing. After a moment, he continued, “This thing with the copper. If you’ll try it, I might be able to explain… explain why my mother needs me for her healing.”

  Lizeth crossed her arms in front of her, somehow looking doubtful and angry at the same time. She jerked up her chin, telling him to go ahead.

  “I’m going to flip the coin. You know how they have a head on one side and the other side’s called ‘tails?’”

  Lizeth nodded impatiently.

  “So, I flip the coin like this, catch it, then turn it over, clapping it down on my other wrist.” He demonstrated this as he spoke. “Then, you tell me whether it’s heads or tails before I move my hand.”

  “Okaaay,” she said slowly. “Heads you stay and tails you go?”

  He shook his head, “No, we’re just seeing whether you can guess correctly whether it’s heads or tails.”

  She rolled her eyes again, looking highly exasperated. “Go ahead.”

  Tarc flipped the coin, caught it and slapped it down on the back of his left wrist.

  Lizeth said, “Tails.”

  Tarc uncovered to see the back side of the coin.

  He flipped it again, but she interrupted him. “I already got it right.”

  “Well, yeah. But you had a 50-50 chance of getting it right. We have to see if you can get it right it over and over.”

  “50-50?”

  Impatiently, Tarc said, “Means if I flipped it 100 times, it should come up heads fifty times and tails fifty times.”

  “Oh,” she said thoughtfully.

  I’ve seen her gambling with the other guards, he thought. Surely she knows that much? He blinked. Whether she does or not doesn’t have any bearing on the question at hand, he thought. He flipped the coin again. Catching it, he slap
ped it and lifted an eyebrow at her.

  “Tails,” she said.

  She was right. And, she was right another twenty-five times in a row. “That’s amazing,” he said, shaking his head. “You could win a lot of money.”

  She shook her head, “I don’t like gambling, and, whether or not I can tell heads or tails, I’m not particularly good at games of chance.”

  Tarc thought for a moment. He had her try calling it while the coin was in the air—in case, as his dad contended, she was just so quick she could see how it landed—or was going to land. Doing it that way, she was only right about half the time. Then he left his right hand on top of the coin for several seconds after she called it. Once again, she was only right about half the time. “You can see into the future,” he breathed. “Only a couple of seconds, but that’s how you beat everyone at swordplay. You know what they’re about to do so you can block them. Or at least so you can work around whatever move they’re about to make.”