***
Once Tarc had topped up the wood racks and filled the water barrels and tanks, he headed out to the stable. As he approached, he heard wood banging together. Inside, he wasn’t surprised to find several of the guards practicing with wooden practice swords. He kept a surreptitious eye on their impromptu bouts, while he checked on old Shogun and those of the caravaners’ horses which were stabled in there.
There were three of them in the stable, all larger than average. Not as big as the two guards who’d come with Farley, but they looked much more fit.
While two of them went at each other with small shields and practice swords, the other one turned to Tarc. “You want to give it a go?”
Tarc started and looked at him wide-eyed, “Oh, no! I’ve only had a little training. I’m not much good.” In fact, he thought to himself, I’m pitiful compared to these guys.
The guy grunted, “Somebody said you guys might be going with us on the caravan.”
Tarc nodded uncertainly.
“Well, then you need to get good with a sword. If the caravan is attacked, the guards do what they can, but everyone needs to be ready to do their part.”
“Um,” was all that Tarc managed in response to this admonition. The man held a practice sword out to him and he took it.
“My name’s Jason,” the man said turning and picking up another practice sword. “We’ll practice without shields since you don’t have one.”
Tarc shuffled slowly back away from Jason, but the man took a lunging step and knocked Tarc’s practice sword out of his hand. He stood slowly up and said, “That was pitiful. You need to hold on to that thing like your life depends on it… because it does!” He waved his sword towards where Tarc’s lay in the straw. “Go get it. If your sword ever gets knocked out of your hand in a real fight, you’d better be scrambling after it!”
Tarc trotted over to the sword and picked it up. When he stood and turned, Jason was right behind him and knocked the sword out of his hand again. Sullenly, he stood there, flexing his stinging fingers and glaring at the man.
“Jesus kid, aren’t you even going to try?”
“You’re not even letting me get ready!”
“Yeah, good fighters don’t let you get ready. That’s how half the fights are won, by attacking before the other guy’s ready.” Jason gave a little sneer, “Now, are you even going to try? Or are you going to hide in the wagons with the girls?”
For a moment, Tarc considered claiming that he was an archer not a swordsman and telling Jason to leave him alone. But then he decided he really should try to learn how to use a sword. Fighting might get too close for arrows or knife throwing and he should be able to do something. Suddenly he turned and scrambled after his sword, scrabbling it off the floor and dodging around the other side of one of the stable’s posts. When he stood, as he’d hoped, the post blocked Jason from taking another swing at his sword. Tarc gripped his sword with both hands and held it up on guard like he’d been taught.
Jason stepped forward, “That’s better. Now, let’s see if you can defend yourself.”
He smacked Tarc’s sword point to one side and stepped in.
However, Tarc had tensely been expecting him to try to knock the sword away again and had assumed a rigid grip. Jason’s stroke didn’t move Tarc’s tip very far. When Jason stepped towards Tarc, Tarc had already forced his tip back on line.
Jason danced away from the point, saying, “Better.” Immediately Jason feinted a blow to knock Tarc’s tip aside.
When Tarc moved to resist the strike that didn’t come, Tarc’s point swung to the side.
Jason stepped past it to smack Tarc on the shoulder.
The blow really hurt. Tarc struggled to hold onto his sword with suddenly nerveless fingers and to keep the tears from welling up in his eyes.
The other two men had stopped their practice and come over to watch. One of them said, “Come on Jason. He’s just a kid.”
Jason glanced over his shoulder at them, “Oh, my mistake! I didn’t realize he was so young he couldn’t die out there on the road.”
A voice came from behind Tarc, “Well, he isn’t going to learn to stay alive if you beat him so badly he’s afraid to even try!”
Tarc whirled. It was Lizeth! Arco stood behind her, a grin on his face. He said, “Now, now Lizeth. Seems to me I remember you beating this selfsame boy in this very stable.”
She turned to Arco and grinned, “Yeah, but that was because he disrespected my womanhood. I felt compelled to prove to him that a woman was capable of guarding the caravan.” She turned back to Tarc, “Why are you out here practicing with Jason.” She raised an eyebrow at Jason, “He’s mean… just on principle.”
Trying not to sound surly, Tarc said, “He said I needed to learn how to fight with a sword, in case my family joins the caravan.”
Lizeth raised her eyebrows, “You guys might join?”
Tarc shrugged, “Yeah, we want to leave this place.”
She raised a single eyebrow and said, “I can see why. The people in this town don’t seem to like you guys very much. What did you do?”
Tarc’s eyes flashed with anger, but then he calmed. “We didn’t do anything! Some ex-soldiers invaded our town,” he paused trying to think about how to explain it.
Lizeth dryly said, “Yeah, I heard about that.”
“They stayed in our tavern. A rumor spread… a rumor that we were collaborating with them. We didn’t have a choice! They were animals.”
Jason said, “There’s always a choice.”
Tarc turned to look at him sullenly, “Yeah, cooperate or die!” He wanted desperately to tell the caravan guards that the Hyllises hadn’t cooperated. He wanted to tell them, especially Lizeth, that he and his father had been the ones who’d actually killed Krait. Telling them, however, would not only break his family’s trust, but it would make him a laughingstock.
Lizeth sighed, sounding unhappy. “Well, you do have more choices if you know how to defend yourself. Jason’s right about that. He’s a terrible teacher though.” She glared at Jason, “He thinks that if he beats you badly enough, often enough, that somehow that’ll teach you how to fight.” She turned back to Tarc, “If you’d like some pointers, I’d be happy to teach you after tomorrow’s market. I’ll actually teach you, rather than just beat you.”
Tarc, excited by any opportunity to spend time with Lizeth, said, “I’d appreciate that.”
As if he could read the thoughts rattling through Tarc’s brain, Jason said, “Yeah, I’ll just bet you would.”
***
That evening, when the dinner rush had slowed, the tub rush started. Even more of the caravaners wanted to soak in the tubs of hot water after hearing their friends brag about it. Tarc carried buckets ‘til he thought they were going to pull his arms off. Since the fire in the big room was heating the water, he had to keep it built-up as well. When she’d finished clearing the tables and helping Eva wash the dishes, Daussie helped feed the fire and even hauled a few straps of wood.
On one of Tarc’s trips inside, he saw Mr. Watson and Mr. Norton standing at the end of the bar talking to Daum. He wondered whether they would be able to work anything out regarding a trade.
Tarc was in the tub room, filling a bucket with steaming hot water from the spigot on the back of the big fireplace when he heard Jason’s voice. “Looky here, it’s our sword fighter from the stable.”
Tarc turned. It looked like a group of the guards had gotten together to buy some time in the big communal tub. Jason was grinning at him with an “oh so superior” look on his face. Tarc was about to bark something angry at him when he realized that Lizeth was sitting on the other side of the tub. Her smile appeared lazily happy. She said, “These tubs are really great! We guards didn’t get to stay at the tavern the other times I came through this town with the caravan. I didn’t even know the tubs were here or I’d have been over here every night!”
Tarc ignored Jason and turned to her, “Th
ey are pretty great. If my family joins the caravan, they’re one thing I’ll really miss.” He shut off the spigot and picked up the full bucket of hot water. “You want me to pour some in? Or just set it here on the side so you can pour it in when your water’s starting to get cool?” He set the bucket on the post at the corner of the tub while he waited for their answer. His eyes glanced around at everyone in the tub so that he would be able to rest them briefly on Lizeth without appearing to be staring at her alone. His heart skipped a beat when he thought she was nude. Then he realized that although her shoulders and the upper portions of her breasts were uncovered she had some kind of garment on under the water.
“Pour some in,” Lizeth said, her command giving him an opportunity to glance at her one more time.
He picked up the bucket and leaned it over the edge between two of the men. “You guys might want to lean away, this water’s pretty hot.”
The people in the tub crowded away from where Tarc was about to pour the water in and he tipped the bucket, letting the water run in. The overflow pipe on the other side of the tub started to run, carrying the water out to the gutters on the street.
One of the men right next to where Tarc was pouring the water in exclaimed, “Holy crap that’s really hot.” He and the man on the other side of the pour began to vigorously swirl the water around in order to move the really hot water further away.
As the heat reached her, Lizeth sighed and said, “Oh man, this feels so great!”
She stretched like a big cat, drawing Tarc’s eyes like a magnet. He snapped them quickly away, embarrassed. The bucket was empty, and had been for a few seconds. Blushing, he turned and refilled it before leaving.
It was quite late that night when Tarc went up to go to bed. As he lay down, his senses stretched out, feeling the warm spots belonging to the people renting rooms. He could sense a few of the caravaners in or under the wagons that were parked nearby. Suddenly he realized there was someone creeping up onto the porch. The vandals! He jolted up, thinking of running down the stairs and slamming open the door to see who it was and frighten them away. He grabbed for his clothes, but then had another idea. He reached out with his talent and grabbed a little bit of air right above the person’s head. Whoever it was, they were just starting to squat. Vibrating the air, he made it say, “Hey! If you crap there, your balls will shrivel up and disappear.”
To Tarc’s senses, the person shot back to his feet. The guy just stood there, probably looking for whoever had spoken to him. Grinning to himself, Tarc reached out, found the man’s crotch, and poked his testicles from behind. He couldn’t poke very hard from so far away; nonetheless, Tarc imagined he could hear a stifled shriek of terror as the man’s muscles seized into rigidity. Then the guy practically leapt into the air, jerking up his pants and running off down the street.
Tarc briefly found it hard to get to sleep as he worried about whether what he’d just done to the vandal might give away his family’s talents. He was too tired for his insomnia to last very long though.
Chapter Four
The first thing Daum did when he got up in the morning was to check outside for any more vandalism. Relieved when he didn’t find any, he wondered whether he and his family could stay in this town. He’d seen angry attitudes like the Hyllises were enduring at present gradually fade with time. Apprehensive that joining the caravan might have its own set of problems, he wondered if they couldn’t just wait it out. We might be running from poverty into the killing field.
He kept thinking about it as he worked. Eventually he decided that, even years from now, some people would still be looking at Daum and his family with resentment and disrespect. He shook his head, No, we don’t want to live here.
Daussie was washing dishes when Eva left the kitchen to go out into the big room. She poked her head back in and said, “Daussie, leave the dishes for a bit. Things have slowed down enough for us to have a family meeting.”
They all sat at the table where Eva usually did her treatments. Daum said, “The Watsons have offered almost as much as we hoped for. It isn’t what we think the tavern is worth and we certainly wouldn’t have taken a deal like this before the town…” he grimaced, “you know, started acting the way they have been.”
Everyone nodded.
“Part of their payment for the tavern is the trade of their wagon and its trailer, their mules and their horses. They still don’t have enough cash to pay the difference and so they’ll have to owe us some money. Of course that’s worrisome, something might happen to them or they may eventually just refuse to pay. But I feel like they’re pretty trustworthy.” He looked at Daussie and Tarc, “Your mother and I think we should go ahead with this deal, but wanted to talk it over with you. You’re nearly adults now and obviously this has a huge effect on your lives as well.”
Tarc merely nodded.
Daussie said, “I really want to leave this town. I hate them for the way they’ve treated us.”
Eva said, “We can’t take everything we own here in the tavern with us in that wagon. Some things have to come with us, like our medical supplies, some cooking equipment, and your dad’s still.” She looked back and forth from Daussie to Tarc, “While it’s slow this morning, get up to your rooms and figure out the absolute minimum of your stuff that you have to take with you. Make a pile. Then, Daussie, I need you to help me figure out which medical and kitchen supplies we need to take. Tarc, you need to go through the stable, collecting everything we need to care for the horses we’re going to own now. Once you figure that out, help your dad work on breaking down the still.”
As they were getting up from the table, the big door at the front of the tavern opened. They all turned to look at it apprehensively because the caravaners always came in the back door from the courtyard. A woman stepped inside.
It was Mrs. Gates!
Eva said, “Hello, Mrs. Gates.”
Gates turned and headed for the treatment table. Daussie noticed that she seemed significantly healthier than the last time Daussie had seen her. Gates said, “I’ve come in for some more of your fake treatments. I’m feeling better. I suspect that it’s just because my body’s getting better on its own.” She shrugged, “However, just in case it’s because of something you’ve been doing, I decided I’d better come get some more treatments.”
Eva rolled her eyes and said, “Well, we’re always delighted to have someone as pleasant as you visit our treatment table.”
Gates gave a sly grin, “Yeah, there’s hardly anyone in this town who doesn’t look forward to a visit from me.” She sat on the end of the table, scooted backwards up onto it, then laid down.
Daum had turned and headed out to his brewing room. Daussie migrated back towards the treatment table and the old woman, wanting to examine her first patient with her new talent. Well, other than diagnosing Mr. Farley’s stroke. Eva motioned Daussie and Tarc to follow her towards the kitchen. Resentment welled up inside of Daussie at the thought she was going to be cut out again.
They stepped into the kitchen. Daussie said angrily, “I thought Mrs. Gates had cancer?”
“Yes she does,” Eva said eyeing Daussie thoughtfully. “And she will be a very good patient for you to study with your new ability. I want you to go back out there and examine her while Tarc and I get her treatment ready.”
Daussie frowned, “But there’s no treatment for cancer! All you can do is give her something for the pain, and I can help you get that ready.” She glanced resentfully at Tarc, “Having Tarc push on something isn’t going to help a cancer and he doesn’t even want to be a healer. Why is he going to be doing the treatment?”
Eva’s eyes dropped to the floor as she developed a very sad expression and chewed her lip for a moment. Looking back up at Daussie, she said, “Because, Dauss, Tarc actually can do something for cancer.” Eva blinked back some tears and said in a raspy voice, “I don’t want to explain it to you right now, but I will later. For now, will you go examine Mrs. Gates? She really is
an excellent patient for you to try to use your talent on.”
Tarc can treat cancer?! Daussie felt like she was almost reeling as she stepped into the big room and walked over to where Gates was still lying on the table. How?! Daussie felt a pain starting to close her throat and a welling in her eyes. She turned her thoughts away from Tarc’s talents. “Hi Mrs. Gates. My Mom wants me to examine you while they’re getting the treatment ready.”
Gates snorted, “Sure, like you can tell anything. That’s almost as stupid as these treatments they’re giving me. But, go ahead, sit down. Pretend you’re checking out my cancer.” Her gaze resignedly went back to the ceiling.
Daussie took a deep breath. At least Gates’ acid personality had taken Daussie’s mind off of how sad she was that she lacked serious talent and moved it to thinking about how irascible this lady was. Daussie sat on the bench next to the table, placed her hands on Gates’ abdomen and sent her ghost sense into the woman’s body. She’d been surreptitiously looking into the insides of people over the past couple of days when she’d been standing next to them with nothing else to do. Once again she was surprised at how similar people were inside. She’d started in Gates’ head where everything seemed normal. Wait a minute! There’s something here in the back of her brain! Daussie focused her ghost on it. It didn’t have the soft nature of the rest of the brain, seeming much firmer, like a ligament, or a tendon, or… a scar!
Wonderingly, Daussie sent her ghost down out of the head through the neck. There were spots in the marrow of her vertebra! The tissue there was soft and disorganized. It seemed to be destroying the bone around it. Cancer, Daussie thought. In the lungs, Daussie found more scars. And again in the liver she found the same thing.
Daussie found cancer again in the woman’s lower spine, in a kidney and in her upper thigh bone. She started to get up.
Gates said demandingly, “Well? What did you find with this examination of yours?”
Teleporter (a Hyllis family story #2) Page 7
