Teleporter (a Hyllis family story #2)

by Dahners, Laurence

  After they’d made their way down off the porch of the tavern and taken a few agonizing steps down the street, Eva called after them, “My son Tarc would be happy to drive you home in our wagon.”

  The wife shouted without looking back, “We’ll be fine.”

  Her husband stopped in place though. “Gods be damned woman, this is killing me.” He turned and called back over his shoulder, “That would be very nice. I would thank you very much for a ride home.”

  Eva patted Tarc on the shoulder, urging him on his way.

  He turned to her and hissed, “Are you sure? She didn’t even offer to pay for what you’ve done already!”

  “Yes,” Eva said somewhat dispiritedly. “But it will be agonizing for him to walk all the way home, even with his brothers helping. Have some sympathy.”

  Tarc went out back and hitched old Shogun up to the wagon. When he drove it out to the street he found them waiting by the exit from the yard behind the tavern.

  The woman was staring at the wagon. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

  Tarc looked at her in confusion, “Sorry?”

  “That’s the wagon you took our men out to their mass graves in… isn’t it?”

  Tarc winced. She must have seen me driving the bodies out the day of the first massacre! “Yes ma’am. We’ve washed and washed it since then though.”

  “Art ain’t riding in that!”

  “It’s the only wagon we’ve…” Tarc began.

  “Mabel, by the spirits, my leg feels like it’s dead! It doesn’t care if it’s ridin’ in a wagon some dead bodies have been in!”

  “Art…” the woman began.

  But then Art forestalled her by hopping a few steps to the back of the wagon, turning and sitting down. “Young man, I'd thank you to start this wagon rolling before Mabel starts any more of her foolishness.”

  The man’s brothers helped him scoot up into the wagon. He got far enough that he could get his leg up in it as well, rather than having it dangling behind. Mabel declared that she wasn’t going to ride in the wagon and would walk behind, so Tarc clucked up old Shogun and they started on their way. The ride seemed unnaturally quiet, with the men saying nothing to Tarc. As they rolled through town Tarc noted with unease that when people saw the wagon coming they stopped to stare. Some, however, turned their eyes immediately away. He supposed that the wagon served as some kind of symbol of the massacre to them. But in the past, the townspeople hadn’t impressed him as the type who would avoid a mere object because it had been involved in an atrocity.

  He wondered if they should paint the wagon, or install higher sideboards or something else that might make it look different enough that it wouldn’t remind people of what it had done.

  When they arrived at Art and Mabel’s house, Tarc pulled to a halt, set the brake, and got out to help the two brothers get Art out of the wagon. By the time he was on his feet between his brothers Mabel had arrived as well. Art said, “Thank you son. I appreciate the ride.” He turned to his wife, “Did you pay?”

  “I don’t think…”

  Art interrupted his wife, “Come on woman! The boy’s mother probably saved my life. We pay our debts!” He turned to Tarc, “How much does your mama charge boy?”

  Tarc’s eyes rose for a moment as he did the figures in his head. “Let’s see, irrigation and cleaning of the wound. Bandages and a night’s stay…” He named Eva’s usual price.

  “Pay the boy, woman, plus a little extra for the ride across town.”

  “Art, you don’t know what’s…”

  “I know we pay our debts! Don’t make me stand out here any longer to be sure you do it!”

  Sullenly the woman dug in her purse and found coin for Tarc. As his brothers maneuvered her husband into the house, she followed behind speaking to him vehemently in a low voice that Tarc couldn’t understand.

  Tarc watched them going into the house as he turned the wagon around and started back towards the tavern. He wondered what this was all about, eventually concluding that he really had no idea. It made him uneasy though.

  When Tarc got back to the tavern, the other man who’d spent the night was also being shepherded out by his family. He’d been wounded in the forearm, so could walk easily enough with his arm in a sling.

  Tarc unhitched Shogun and gave her some oats. He practiced a couple of throws with his knives, but then decided he should get back inside in case some customers had come in and his parents needed some help.

  The tavern remained empty.

  Daum had him help with a few things in the brewery, then sent him back upstairs to study some more. “I’m pretty sure we’ll have some business again by dinner time, so don’t get too used to lazing around reading.” Daum said with a weak attempt at humor.

  ***

  Dinnertime arrived and once again there were no customers. Eva prepared another family meal and this time Daussie consented to come down and eat with the rest of them. To Tarc, she looked like she was still mourning her lack of talent. Despite having missed lunch, she wasn’t eating much and hardly looked up from her plate. He wondered if he could say anything to cheer her up. He supposed it would cheer her up if he claimed that he didn’t actually have the talent to push things. Then he wondered if she really understood that Eva couldn’t push things.

  Deciding that she might not, and that it would cheer her up, Tarc said, “Dauss, I want to be sure you understand…” He hesitated, thinking she would look up when he began speaking but she didn’t. She lifted a spoonful of corn into her mouth still looking at her plate. Tarc continued, “Mom can sense the insides of things. Dad can push things with his talent. Neither one of them can do both.”

  Daussie slowly raised her head, her eyes going back and forth from father to mother and back. She swallowed, “You guys told me that before. Is it true?” she asked.

  They nodded, Eva said, “People in our families have one talent or the other, not both.”

  “But, Tarc does have both right?” Daussie turned her eyes to Tarc and studied him for a moment. “You’ve been sensing the inside of people to make diagnoses with Mom. And you push things too, don’t you? That’s why you’re so good at throwing knives,” she glanced at her father, “and that’s why Dad’s so good with arrows.”

  Tarc stared at her for a moment like a mouse does at a snake, then finally he sighed, “Yeah…”

  Daussie kept looking at him for a moment; then her eyes welled with tears which spilled over and ran down her cheeks. “And, pushing is how you kept Jacob from bleeding to death isn’t it?”

  Tarc slowly nodded.

  Daussie said lifelessly, “It just isn’t fair. I’m the one who’s always wanted to be a healer. You’ve never cared. You wouldn’t give a damn if you’d only gotten one talent, but it’s killing me.” She got up out of her seat, “I’m not hungry anymore so I’ll go up and study some more. It looks like knowledge is going to be my only strength as a healer.”

  “Daussie…” Tarc said, but didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

  Eva called after her, “You’ll be able to feel what’s wrong…”

  Daussie didn’t pause.

  Chapter Two

  At breakfast the next day, when there were still no customers, Tarc broke the family’s tacit silence on the subject. “I think something’s wrong.”

  Daussie didn’t look up from her plate. Daum’s face, already tight, went completely stony. Eva, whose eyes had been focused in the distance, said, “Wrong with what, Honey?”

  Tarc had always hated being called “Honey” and had worked hard to break Eva of the habit. However, now didn’t seem the time to complain. With no more than a slight wince, he said, “I think people aren’t coming to eat because… bad rumors have spread about us.”

  Daum’s expression didn’t change, but Eva came back from wherever she’d been and actually focused on Tarc’s face. “Bad rumors?”

  “Yeah, when I drove those people home yesterday, the woman was upset about the wagon
.”

  Eva frowned, “What about the wagon?”

  “She knew that it was the one that the bodies from the square had been driven out to Krait’s mass graves in. She didn’t want her husband riding in it. He insisted, because his leg was hurting so bad, and his brothers did ride with him. But she walked behind.”

  Eva shrugged, “There are always going to be people who attach significance to objects that have been involved in bad events. But the whole town isn’t avoiding the tavern because it’s got a wagon with a morbid history parked out back.”

  “But, as we rode through town, people stared at it. And I don’t mean just a few. Everyone stared at it. Well, except some that, as soon as they saw it, turned away as if they didn’t want to look at it. Or me either.”

  “Oh, come on. You’re imagining things. It’s only natural to read more into people’s glances than’s really there.”

  “I’m not imagining anything. I saw people staring… or turning away. It was… really obvious.”

  Daum said, “I think he might be right Eva. The town may be thinking that we were collaborators and turning against us.”

  “Oh, come on! Daum, you’re the one that shot Krait. This town owes its very life to you.”

  Daussie’s head jerked up and she stared at her father with wide eyes.

  Daum glanced at his daughter, then turned back to his wife. “It may be that the town owes its life to us, but it doesn’t know it. Even your own daughter didn’t know it.”

  “But, but…”

  Tarc interjected, “I’ve been thinking about this. You’ve got to consider what they do know about us, Mom.” He ticked off on his fingers, “Like Jacob told me, a rumor spread that we were collaborators. An easy rumor to believe when Krait’s people stayed here the night of the takeover. Besides that, a lot of them ate here, three meals a day, after they held the town. The rumor about me going over to Stevenson’s to take meat without paying spread like wildfire too.”

  “But, surely Stevenson has told everyone by now that you went by later to pay!”

  “I’m sure he’s told people, but you know ugly rumors spread faster than any true stories that are intended to dispel them. And then, think about how it looked when our wagon was there at the square during the massacre. And then Daussie and I were loading the bodies in the wagon and taking them out the gate to the graves.”

  “But, they made you do that!”

  “We know that. And a few men that were standing nearby when Krait’s men told me and Daussie to do it, they know it too. But most people only saw us doing it.”

  Eyes wide, Eva sounded like she was grasping for straws when she said, “Jarvis’ wife. You saved her from being raped by those two soldiers.”

  Tarc shook his head. “I’ve been thinking about it. I’m pretty sure she didn’t see me throw the knives. I’m not even sure she has any idea what happened to let her escape those two soldiers. She might even think the man ripped open her blouse just to terrify her, but then let her go.”

  “But, then why did they bring the injured men here day before yesterday?”

  “Habit,” Daum said sadly. “That’s what they’ve always done. Besides, I’m sure the vicious gossiping was somewhat restrained by everyone staying inside when Krait was here. As soon as he was gone, the rumormongers were free to do their worst. They’ve been talking it up all that afternoon and all day yesterday.”

  “And, Captain Pike died in our care,” Tarc said sadly.

  “But surely Sergeant Garcia is setting people straight! And… and Arvil Tornesson. He’ll be telling the townsfolk what Daum did!”

  Tarc glanced at Daussie who looked to be somewhere between thunderstruck and horrified. He turned back to his mother, “Mama, Sergeant Garcia isn’t particularly talkative, and neither is Mr. Tornesson. Besides, not many people are going to believe that even Daum, the archer, could have shot Krait from most of the way across the square. Tornesson didn’t think he could do it beforehand, and may still wonder if he actually did do it.” He looked back and forth between his mother and father, “We need for word to get out there, and if we want that to happen, we’re going to have to start talking to people about it ourselves.”

  Daum took his eyes off of Eva and turned to focus on Tarc, “And what are you thinking we’re going to tell them? That we were forced to collaborate? That’ll just be our word against the rumormongers. That I made that shot across the square to kill Krait? Most people will never believe it. That you killed the soldiers attacking Mrs. Jarvis? A boy! Killing two experienced, war-hardened soldiers? They won’t believe that either.”

  “We’ll just have to tell them about our talents! We’ll show them what we can do, and they’ll have to believe us.”

  Eva’s eyes flashed wide with horror, “Absolutely not! Tarc, you have no idea what you’re saying. When… when ordinary people have found out about our family’s talents in the past, it’s been… awful. We’ve been burned as witches, imprisoned so someone could control our talent for their own benefit, accused of using talent to defraud, or kill, or, or do…” she blushed and rushed on, “sexual things… Trust me, we do not want anyone finding out about our talents.”

  Witches? Sexual things, what kind of sex things? Tarc decided it was better not to ask. Obviously, they weren’t witches, so whatever they were accused of didn’t have to have been true. He could easily imagine becoming the scapegoat for all kinds of things that people didn’t have anyone else to blame for. Pregnancies? Damn! He’d been thinking it would feel good to have people respect him for what he could do. Suddenly, he’d come to the conclusion that it would definitely not be cool for them to even know. Done mulling these thoughts, he said, “What are we going to do then?”

  Eva and Daum looked at one another. Since they weren’t saying anything, Tarc looked at Daussie. She seemed calm, more the Daussie of the past couple of days than the histrionic Daussie of the past or the depressed Daussie who didn’t have the pushing talent.

  Daum shrugged and said, “It might all blow over, but if it doesn’t we may have to move.”

  “Move!” Tarc’s eyes shifted from Daum to his mother and back. “Where would we move to?!”

  Eva shifted uneasily, “My sister lives in Cooperstown. Last I heard, she liked it there.”

  Daum grunted, “There are a lot of bad places out there. You’ve just experienced how a decent town like ours became a terrible place at the whim of a bad man and his followers. We certainly wouldn’t want to move somewhere without checking it out first. But, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. We don’t even know that there’s really a serious problem here yet.”

  Eva gave a little shiver, “Tarc, why don’t you go check with your friend Jacob. He told you about the rumors when Krait was actually here; see what he’ll tell you now. I’ll go to Benson’s store and buy something. John Benson should be willing to tell me what’s going on.” She turned and looked at Daussie speculatively, “Daussie, do you think you could talk to your friend Alice?”

  Daussie looked at her mother for a moment and then gave a tiny nod. They all got up and began to clear the table in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

  ***

  As Tarc walked through the town, he once again encountered stares and averted gazes. No one waved or said hello.

  When Tarc arrived at the Calder’s shoe store he found Jacob’s mother at the counter. Her eyes widened when she saw Tarc enter. He thought she looked as if she had seen some particularly undesirable species of vermin in her shop. Her eyes immediately returned to the two ladies she was serving. They were focused on the way a pair of shoes looked on the one trying them on. Calder’s eyes returned to him. “Jacob’s in the back,” she said, making furtive motions to him suggesting that he should move on through the front of the store to the shop in back where the shoes were made.

  Tarc had the definite impression that she did not want anyone to see him in her store. He thought for a moment of dawdling his way through just to irritate her, b
ut thought better of it.

  In the back he found Mr. Calder and Jacob with their heads bent over a boot. Calder was critiquing Jacob’s stitching, though he didn’t sound terribly dissatisfied. They looked up and Calder’s eyes went towards the front of the shop where his wife would be working. Tarc had the impression Calder wondered whether his wife knew Tarc was back there. He cleared his throat, “Hello young Hyllis. What can we do for you?”

  Jacob was staring at Tarc as if surprised to see him. Tarc said, “I was hoping to talk to Jacob for a few minutes Mr. Calder. Would that be okay?”

  Calder’s eyes darted toward the front of the store again for a second, then back to Tarc. “For a few minutes,” he said gruffly, waving towards the door that went into the rooms they lived in.

  Jacob got up and moved towards the door, not really looking Tarc in the eye. No “hello” either, Tarc noticed. Once the door had closed behind them, Jacob asked, “What are you doing here?” Rather than friendly, the tone of the question was mildly accusatory.

  Tarc, already full of foreboding about this conversation, didn’t really know what to say. “Um, I wanted to ask…”

  Jacob didn’t make it any easier, just staring at Tarc and looking put out. After a moment he said, “Well, out with it! My dad’s gonna want me back in there slaving away over a shoe last in another minute or two.”

  “You know how you said… that people were talking about us? Saying… bad things…” Tarc couldn’t bring himself to say the word “collaborator.”

  Jacob crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against a chair, “Yeah. They’re still saying them.” He chewed his lip a second, “And, you know, it sounds pretty bad… you showin’ up with your wagon to haul away the bodies when they killed all those men in the square that first day.”

  “I didn’t ‘show up’ with the wagon!” Tarc exploded. “They had the wagon there. Me and…” Tarc had almost said “Daussie” before he realized he didn’t want anyone to know she’d been there dressed as a boy, “my dad were there in the middle with all the other men. They told me to get the bodies because they recognized it was our wagon!”