Hood

by Laurence Dahners

  One of the other men slowly said, “I hear… some kind of strange ‘voice’ was knockin’ people down in the king’s audience chamber the other day. If… if you knocked ’em down first, then you could just walk up and stab ’em in the eye to finish the job.”

  Angrily, the king said, “That’s bullshit! That voice story…” Tarc’s ghirit showed the king’s head shaking back and forth, “it’s been way overblown.”

  The King’s in denial, Tarc thought. Which doesn’t bode well for me changing his behavior by punishing him some more.

  Lizeth came up. Tarc asked, “Were they women captives?”

  “No,” Lizeth said without elaborating. “What’s going on here?”

  Tarc pointed out the room the king was in. He told Lizeth how to locate the one that was Pongo and how he was one of Tarc’s inside people. Explaining that Pongo wasn’t in the best situation even before Gordon got killed, he said, “I’ve got to stay here to make sure Pongo’s okay.”

  They stayed, observing with their ghirits until the king’s little meeting was over. To Tarc’s relief, Pongo was allowed to leave unharmed.

  Pongo left the palace, so Tarc contrived for he and Lizeth to bump into Pongo at a corner. “Oh, hi Sergeant. How’re the plans coming?”

  Pongo eyed Lizeth. “Um…”

  Tarc said, “She’s with me. She knows about the plan. She can probably be a good deal of help.”

  Pongo frowned, “A girl?” He looked Lizeth up and down, “To distract someone?”

  The sergeant suddenly found himself looking down the length of Lizeth’s blade, the tip of which was inside his nostril. She snarled, “Is this distracting enough for you?”

  Pongo slowly raised his hands, “Sorry.” He grinned, “You’re right. That’s quite distracting.” When Lizeth had lowered and sheathed the sword, Pongo said, “I’m on my way over to talk to the lieutenant now. Shall we go together?”

  Tarc told Pongo they had to do something first and would come by later.

  He and Lizeth headed for Sheila Martin’s home.

  ~~~

  When they arrived outside the grounds of the Martin mansion, Tarc first sent his ghirit in to check Sheila’s room. The girl wasn’t there so he explored the mansion. Finding someone about the right size, he sent his voice, “Sheila?”

  Whoever it was, their head spun around as if frightened, but they didn’t respond. A few rooms down, Tarc found another person he thought might be her. This one was sitting at a table with a child-sized person. Tarc didn’t want to frighten the child, but didn’t feel like he had the luxury of taking time to wait for Sheila and the kid to separate. He placed his voice as close as he could behind her head and whispered, “Sheila?”

  She also turned suddenly, but after a momentary pause, she whispered back, “Yes?”

  “Um, can you move to another room? I need to ask you something.”

  She stood, “Robbie? I’ve got to visit the chamberpot. I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

  A boy’s voice responded, sounding frightened. “What if dad comes back?”

  Sounding regretful, Sheila said, “You want to hide behind the couch?”

  The boy—Tarc assumed her brother—didn’t respond other than to quickly move behind the couch, lying partly under the seat.

  Tarc was already thinking black thoughts about Sheila’s father when she stepped into a small room and said, “Are you there?”

  “Yes, do you really need to use the… chamber pot?”

  “No. Please hurry. I really owe you, but I don’t want to get in trouble.”

  “Why would you get in trouble in your own home?”

  The girl stood silently for a few moments, then said, “Because… my father’s…” she broke off with a sob.

  “He’s not nice?”

  She shook her head, sniffed, then spoke like she had a frog in her throat. “He’s… a horrible, horrible person.”

  “I hate to ask you this, but would your family be better off if he were dead?”

  Sheila’s body jerked at the question. She held utterly still for several seconds. Then she slowly turned around, Tarc thought checking the room for listeners. When she finally spoke, her head was nodding, but her words were, “That’s a terrible thing to ask. Of course not.”

  She immediately left the little room and headed back down the hall toward the room where Robbie was still hiding behind the couch. As she walked Tarc whispered near her ear, “I assume I should believe your nodding head, not your words?”

  She nodded again.

  Chapter Eight

  Tarc arrived back at the palace, sending out his ghirit to find the king. To his relief, he almost immediately recognized the two-meter tall man walking a path Tarc thought led from his business chambers to the sumptuous rooms where he lived.

  Wanting to be as close as possible so he could project his voice with maximum volume, Tarc trotted to a little inward corner of the wall that projected into the palace grounds. Tarc thought Uray’d pass within fifteen to thirty meters of that corner on his current route. Tarc leaned into the corner and waited.

  Uray was accompanied by a gaggle of sycophants and a troop of guards. Since he wanted to spread the word widely, their presence would be perfect.

  When Uray neared his closest approach, Tarc reached out to grab some of the air a meter or two above his head. Vibrating it to speak as loudly as he could, Tarc boomed, “King Uray, I warned you that, king or not, you’d be held accountable for any capital crimes you committed. Despite this warning, you had some of your men hire Shibone, a common criminal and owner of the Palace Tavern, to murder the Descartes family. Though Shibone’s men failed, your life is now forfeit.”

  While Tarc spoke, the sycophants scattered in all directions. More bravely than Tarc had expected, the officer in charge of the troop ordered the guards forward to surround their king. They started hustling the king around a corner. From the officer’s shouts, Tarc deduced he already had a safe room in mind.

  Tarc easily followed above the king with his voice. He said, “If you submit yourself to judgment by the court of the next king, I’ll allow you to live for now. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to subject you to a summary judgment of my own making.” He paused for a few moments to let this sink in—during which the officer and his troop hustled the king into a room. Tarc resumed speaking just inside the room. “Members of the guard. Your king has been committing murder and rape against his own people. He has been taxing the populace to his own benefit without regard to their well-being. Hopefully, you have not been aware of these crimes, for if you have been, then you’ve been complicit in his crimes if you haven’t tried to stop him. Nonetheless, I do not intend to judge those of you who’ve been meekly following orders… unless you continue following orders from this time forward. If King Uray has not submitted himself for imprisonment to await his trial by mid-evening, he’ll be dead. By tomorrow I’ll have appointed a new king. I’d urge you to leave King Uray now. Do not support him any longer.”

  Tarc listened in the room for a few minutes as Uray and his officer frantically discussed what to do next. Tarc was gratified to see the men of the troop nervously drawing away from the king and their officer.

  The guard barracks were nearby. Tarc made similar announcements in several locations there. He moved on to the building he thought held the Guard’s administrative offices, though it was mostly empty this late in the day.

  He continued walking around the palace, repeating essentially the same announcement anywhere he found groups of people.

  Unfortunately, when Tarc returned to the inner corner of the wall near the room where the king had hidden, the room was empty. He expanded his ghirit, expecting to quickly find the king’s new location.

  He didn’t.

  He made another circuit of the palace. Still no king.

  Where the hell did he go?!

  Lizeth trotted up behind him as Tarc was about to make a third circuit, thinking he must’ve just missed Ur
ay. She asked, “What’re you doing?”

  “I made the announcement, but now I’ve lost Uray.”

  “Lost him?!”

  “I walked all the way around the palace grounds repeating the announcements. When I got back, he wasn’t there anymore. I’ve walked around the grounds again but I can’t find him. Do you have any idea where he might’ve gone?”

  “No… Wait. Did you walk around the grounds counterclockwise, the way we’re going now, the first time?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Well, he must have run, right? If it took him a little while to get up his gumption, and then he managed to leave without your notice, he probably went out the east gate when you were all the way around on the west side, right?”

  “Yeah,” Tarc said slowly, “except I was making announcements, not paying careful attention to where the king was. Even if I was on that side, I might not’ve noticed him going out the west gate.”

  Lizeth shrugged, “It doesn’t really matter where he is if he ran, does it? You can just go ahead and put in a new King.”

  Tarc gave her a curious look, “You have a good feeling about that?”

  Lizeth snorted, “I told you, I don’t have precognition about stuff like that!”

  Tarc said, “Still, tell me how you feel about him just running away.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “I suppose he might come back and claim he’s the real king and your lieutenant’s an impostor.”

  “Which do you think’s most likely?”

  Lizeth rolled her eyes.

  “Come on, which one gives you a sick feeling?”

  “Leaving him alive. But maybe that’s just be because I hate him so much?”

  Tarc shrugged, “Maybe. Let’s try to find him though.”

  “How’re we going to do that?”

  They were almost to the east gate. Tarc jerked his chin at it and said, “I think I’ll ask the gate guards. He’s so big, even if he tried to go out incognito, they probably would’ve noticed him going by.”

  “You’re just going to walk up and ask them, ‘Did the king come out this gate a little while ago?’”

  “No, I’m going to send my voice. I’m counting on them being a little freaked out. It’d be good if you sent in your ghirit to check their reactions. You can tell me what you think afterward.”

  “I’ll do you one better. I’ll walk up there and chitchat with the gate guards while you’re doing it. That way I can look ’em in the eye.”

  ~~~

  Knowing men’s reactions to the fact she was carrying a sword could be counterproductive, Lizeth slid her scabbard around behind her hip as she walked up to the gate. It wasn’t exactly invisible, but people tended not to notice things they thought shouldn’t be there. She lifted her chin at the closest guard and, pointing to the palace wall, said, “Is this the wall that goes around the palace?”

  The guard looked her up and down, smiled and nodded.

  Restraining her irritation at being looked over like a piece of meat, Lizeth asked, “Is this the gate they call the East Gate?”

  He nodded again.

  “There’s supposed to be a place called the Palace Tavern somewhere near here. Can you point me the right direction?”

  Proving he could actually speak, the guard said, “Sure.”

  He stepped closer than he needed to and started to point down the street. He was interrupted when Tarc’s voice came out of midair near the guard at the other side of the gate. It said, “Did the king come out this gate in the last hour?”

  Despite the fact that she’d seen the effects of Tarc’s projected voice, and heard it secondhand by listening with her ghirit, having it suddenly come from midair like a ghost made her skin crawl. She wasn’t surprised the guard she’d been talking to suddenly turned and focused his attention over where Tarc’s voice had sounded. His hand went to the hilt of his sword and the sword slid partly out of its scabbard. Lizeth didn’t think the guard even knew he was drawing it.

  The guard at the other side of the gate drew his sword completely, crouching and looking up, white faced. “Who said that?!”

  The one next to Lizeth suddenly turned on her, “Are you throwing your words?!”

  As creeped out as she was, she didn’t have any trouble putting a little tremor in her speech when she answered, “That’s not my voice!” She amplified, “That’s a man’s voice.”

  Tarc’s voice spoke conversationally, “I’m called ‘Hood.’ You may have heard the announcements I made earlier about the king’s life being forfeit because he’s been committing capital crimes against his subjects. He’s apparently left the palace grounds in an attempt to flee justice. Now, once more, did he come out this gate?!”

  The guard over by Tarc’s voice stammered, “Um, I’m not sure…”

  Lizeth stepped a little closer to the man on her side of the gate. She whispered, “Did the king come out this gate?”

  In a frightened tone, the man—apparently accidentally—confirmed he had by saying, “We can’t tell Hood that! They’ll…” He glanced wide-eyed at Lizeth, apparently realizing he shouldn’t be answering. “Get away from the gate!”

  Lizeth put her palms up and slowly backed away, still keeping her ghirit out so she could hear what might yet be said.

  Tarc came walking around the bend in the wall, looking as if he had no idea what was going on at the gate. In fact, when he came into view he started frowning as if surprised by the commotion. He continued on down the street leading to the Palace Tavern, looking for all the world as if that’d been his goal all along.

  After lagging behind for a while, Lizeth started down the other side of the street.

  Tarc stopped to examine a street vendor’s wares.

  Lizeth kept walking and soon passed him by. At the next corner, she turned, crossing the street when she did, then stopping just around the corner so Tarc’d have to walk right past her.

  When he reached the corner, he turned as well, then stopped to talk. She said, “The king came out that gate.” She explained what the guard had said and how she’d interpreted it.

  Tarc nodded. “While I was stopped by the street vendor, I sent my ghirit back to the guards, they’d convened to discuss what’d happened and get their story straight. They said something about an escort of four men under a Capt. Keith who left with him.”

  “Ah…” Lizeth said, “They might’ve gone to Keith’s house. I wonder if Sgt. Pongo knows where that is?”

  “He might,” Tarc said, turning and starting to trot southward, “but I don’t know how we’d find Pongo. On the other hand, Lt. Harris’s supposed to be meeting people at his house all day.”

  ~~~

  When they arrived at Lt. Harris’s house Tarc put his hood up.

  A set of three guards stopped them at the door.

  Tarc said, “We’re allies of Lt. Harris. We need to talk to him right away.”

  The guard who’d stopped them looked Tarc up and down, then shook his head, “Sorry, he’s meeting with a lot of important people.”

  Lizeth found herself feeling somewhat gratified that Tarc was getting the kind of disrespect she often got as a woman though, in Tarc’s case, the contempt was due to his youth.

  Lizeth would’ve made the guard regret his affront at sword point.

  To Lizeth’s astonishment, Tarc simply said, “No problem, I’ll wait.” He stepped over into the shadowed area of the porch as if he weren’t under any time pressure at all.

  Though she still wanted to put the guard in his place, Lizeth decided to step over by Tarc and send her ghirit in to evaluate the situation inside the house. There were a number of people in Harris’ front room. Upon listening, she thought they were all allies or potential allies he was trying to recruit and organize for the coup. No one person was holding forth, they seemed to have broken up into a number of small groups of people, each having side discussions. Wait, maybe Pongo’s here, Lizeth thought. If I listen to all these people, I might recognize his voic
e and be able to point him out. Tarc could talk to him remotely and get him out here… Her thoughts broke off when she realized one of the people inside was moving toward the door.

  When the door opened and Pongo’s face appeared in the gap, Lizeth realized Tarc had beat her to her idea. Probably why he acted like he wasn’t in a hurry.

  Pongo’s eyes lit on Tarc in his hood. He pulled the door open a little more and stepped outside. “Yes?”

  The guard, apparently thinking Pongo was talking to him, said, “This kid just showed up and demanded to—”

  Pongo put up a hand to interrupt, “It’s all right, Kawhi, I’ll talk to him.” He stepped closer to Tarc and spoke quietly, “What’s up?”

  Tarc said, “I made the announcement. Unfortunately, while I was making announcements in other areas of the palace, Uray fled the grounds with Capt. Keith. We think he might have gone to Keith’s house. Do you have any other suggestions?”

  Lizeth glanced at the guard, Kawhi, who presently looked astonished. She didn’t think he’d heard it all, but he’d obviously heard something.

  Pongo frowned, “They might’ve gone to one of Keith or Uray’s supporters, but I suppose Keith’s home’s most likely.”

  Tarc shrugged, “We can deal with the problem, but we have no idea where Keith or any of his supporters live.”

  Pongo grimaced, “I don’t know where Keith lives either. Let me go see if I can find someone who does.”

  Kawhi interjected, “Sergeant, I was assigned to Keith’s guard detail last month. I know where his house is and… I was with him when he visited some people too. I wouldn’t know whether they were supporters or not, but…”

  Pongo said, “That’s great. Could you take us to those locations?”

  Kawhi gave an enthusiastic nod.