Telekinetic

by Laurence E. Dahners

  He tried vibrating out some words without saying them first. From the middle of the room, the strange voice said, “My name is Tarc.”

  He picked a spot right next to his own ear and generated a whisper, “Look out behind you.”

  Hearing a disembodied voice whispering in his own ear sent goosebumps trickling down his spine. He wasn’t quite sure how this might be useful, but thought that surely someday, whispering to someone from across the room would come in handy. A good trick to play on someone, if nothing else.

  Daum called up the stairs for Tarc in the late afternoon; the usual signal that things were getting busier. As Tarc passed Daussie’s room he saw her sitting there, looking out at him, wide-eyed. It hadn’t struck him when Daum called up, but he hadn’t called for Daussie, only for Tarc. He said, “Dad’s calling us down.”

  Daussie shook her head nervously, twisting something in her hands, “He only called for you.”

  Tarc narrowed his eyes, “We always go down together.”

  “Dad always calls both of us.” Daussie looked quite upset. “What if he didn’t call me because…”

  Daussie didn’t finish, but Tarc knew exactly what she was worried about. “Okay, I’ll call back up if it’s safe for you to come down.”

  Quietly, Daussie said, “Thank you.”

  When Tarc got to the bottom of the stairs, he saw that Daussie had been right. The big soldier stood at the bar with four other strangers. Daum said, “Tarc, these men are going to stay the night. Can you stable their horses? They’re the five tied up out front.”

  Tarc blinked, sure that his father didn’t want the strangers’ business. He could imagine, however, that turning away the five hard looking, sword carrying men might be more uncomfortable than simply renting them rooms. “Sure, just let me get something from my room.”

  Back up the stairs, Tarc leaned into Daussie’s room and said, “Those strangers are back and they’re staying the night.” He grimaced, “If I were you, I’d stay in your room with the door shut. I’ll bring you up some dinner later.”

  A look of horror came over Daussie’s face, but she gulped, nodded, and said nothing. Tarc slowly closed her door, then headed back downstairs.

  Tarc stabled the horses, noting that one of the animals was much larger than the other four. Presumably the big man needed a big horse. When he arrived back in the big room, he saw that the five strangers had taken one of the big tables. Daum waved Tarc over.

  When Tarc had leaned over the bar to him, Daum said in a low tone, “I don’t trust those guys. We need to watch them like hawks.”

  Tarc swallowed, the uneasy feeling he’d had in his gut getting even worse. “I told Daussie to stay upstairs with her door shut. What are you thinking they might do?”

  Daum’s eyes had strayed to the five men. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “But I think we should take some precautions.” His eyes came back to Tarc, “First off, before the dinner rush, you go down to the cellar and clean out the strongbox. Leave two silvers and forty-three coppers in it. Put the rest in two of the heavy preserve jars.”

  Tarc frowned, “Why am I leaving any money in the strongbox?”

  Daum said, “If they break into the strongbox, we want them to find something, rather than thinking they should keep looking elsewhere.”

  Tarc nodded. “What do I do with the jars?”

  “Hide one in amongst all the other empty preserve jars. Take the other one to the bank and deposit it in our name.” Daum slid the key to the strongbox surreptitiously across to Tarc.

  Down in the cellar, Tarc was surprised to find that the strongbox had enough money in it that it took 2 ½ of the heavy preserve jars to empty it down to the level Daum had requested. He felt pretty sure that Daum didn’t want him going up and asking what to do with the extra half jar. He hid the full jar in amongst the empties as Daum had suggested. Then he put the left over half full jar in an empty space in the moonshine crate.

  Picking up the second full jar by its handle, Tarc headed up the stairs and turned directly out the big door to the street. He carried the jar in his left hand so it would be partly hidden from the strangers. It only took three steps to cross the corner of the great room from the stairs to the door. Out on the street, he tried to walk calmly and without evidencing the weight of the jar he carried.

  They were happy to take his deposit at Harrison’s Bank, giving him a receipt which he dropped into the empty jar. As he walked back to the tavern, Tarc worried that he shouldn’t return with the same jar he left with. He stopped at Benson’s store and picked up a half full bag of potatoes. He put the empty jar in the sack and entered the tavern through the kitchen.

  Eva frowned at Tarc as he set down the bag of potatoes and got out the jar. “Why are you bringing me a half a bag full of potatoes? And preserves?”

  Tarc said, “There’s five of them strangers staying overnight tonight. Dad had me take a jar full of money from the strongbox to the bank.”

  Eva’s eyes widened.

  Tarc thought about how happy Eva would normally be to have people renting rooms. Not these men though.

  Eva sighed, “I guess we can’t turn them away. Not without causing a lot of trouble anyhow. Does Daum really think they might rob us?”

  Tarc shrugged, “He’s worried enough to have me hide some of the money and take some to the bank.” Tarc opened the jar and got the receipt out to take to Daum. He folded it and put it in his pocket. “I told Daussie to stay upstairs with her door shut. I’ll do her chores.”

  Quietly, Eva said, “Thank you Tarc. You’re doing the right thing for your sister… we all appreciate it.”

  Tarc hustled hard before the dinner time rush, stocking the wood racks and filling the water barrels. He helped his dad prepare the bar ahead of time and then helped his mother cut up chickens for roasting.

  During the rush he practically ran, trying to keep up with the orders and get the plates back to the tables.

  Through this entire time, the five strangers monopolized their table. Though they had beer mugs sitting in front of them, they actually drank very little. They spoke boisterously as if they were at least moderately drunk, leading Tarc to wonder if they had a particularly low tolerance for alcohol.

  “Where’s the blond girl I’ve heard so much about?”

  Tarc had just approached another table with three newly arrived strangers. He hadn’t seen them in the tavern before, but evidently they had friends who’d stopped by. “She’s not working tonight,” he said in a surly tone. “What would you like to eat or drink?”

  “Hot damn!” the man said, slapping his hand down on the table. “Your little waitress is getting famous out there on the road.” He waggled his eyebrows up and down, “She workin’ somewhere else tonight?”

  “No.”

  “Ah, well, maybe tomorrow night?”

  Tarc shook his head. “Can I take your order?”

  “When will she be back?”

  Tarc resisted the temptation to turn on his heel and go wait a different table. “We don’t know. Roast chicken, pork, sausage, potatoes, fried potatoes, cabbage and beet leaf salad, turnips, apples?

  The man looked musingly at Tarc, then turned to his companions, “I’ve heard their sausage is pretty good.” After a brief discussion the men placed their orders and Tarc headed back to the kitchen.

  “Mom, there are eight of those strangers here tonight!”

  Eva sighed but then shrugged a philosophical shoulder. “As long as they pay good coin and don’t cause trouble…” She raised an eyebrow.

  “But Daussie can’t even work when they’re here. Maybe we should hire a boy to help out. Daussie could try to get a job somewhere else… someplace where these strangers don’t go.”

  “Men like those haven’t always come here, and they won’t always come here in the future. We’ll just need to wait it out,” Eva said resignedly.

  “Uh, I’m not so sure… The men now may be worse than the ones who have always
been coming, but Daussie…”

  “Daussie what?”

  “Uh, she’s… different, than she used to be…”

  Eva colored a little bit, as she grasped what Tarc was driving at. “You mean her looks?”

  Tarc nodded.

  “And… you think… more men… are going to be reacting to Daussie now?” Eva said musingly.

  Tarc shrugged his agreement. “Lately, the strangers have been… rougher. Maybe they’re more likely to say what all the men are thinking.”

  “Well, let’s just try to get through tonight. Then I’ll talk to your dad about this… whatever it is.”

  When Tarc took the three new men their plates one of them said, “You lot have any rooms for let tonight?”

  Tarc shook his head, “Not for three. We’ve only got six rooms for let, and those lot,” he jerked his head at the five strangers across the room, “have five of them.”

  “Can two of us sleep on the floor down here?”

  “I’ll ask the boss,” Tarc said. He didn’t want to say, “ask my father,” because of a sudden reticence to let these men know it was a family business. Then they’d be thinking that Daussie must surely be around somewhere.

  The man nodded, “Ask him then. These two,” he nodded at his two compatriots, “love sleeping on the floor.”

  “We’ll flip for it,” one of the other men said.

  Tarc left the three men arguing while he went to talk to Daum. When he presented the idea to his father, Daum turned to look suspiciously at the men with narrowed eyes. “They been causin’ any trouble?”

  Tarc shrugged, “They’ve been askin’ after Daussie, but otherwise no.”

  Daum shook his head, “Never thought I’d be wanting after an ugly daughter…” he said musingly. After pondering a moment longer, “Tell ’em they can sleep on the floor for half the room price. Make sure they know we don’t have any mattresses or blankets for them though.”

  After the dinner rush had slowed, Tarc went out to check the animals in the stable. He took a lamp with him and set it on a shelf near the back. He used a shovel to fill two buckets with oats. Rather than pick up the lamp in one hand and a bucket in the other, he extended his ghost and, picking up a bucket in each hand, left the lamp behind. He went from stall to stall in the faint light from the lamp down at the end. He dispensed oats to each of the horses in the total darkness inside their stalls.

  When he turned to take the buckets back down by the oats and his lamp, he was startled to realize that the one empty stall had men in it! The stall door was shut but he could sense seven warm spots inside of it. Some were sitting, some lying. One stood by the stall door.

  He blinked a moment, wondering if somehow, without his knowledge, someone had stabled a sixth horse with them. However, a quick exploration with his ghost in the next stall showed him that a horse felt nothing like the seven human sized heat sources he felt in the stall that was supposed to be empty. Those were people alright. He stepped back a couple of paces and reached behind his neck to touch his throwing knives. He wondered if he should go in and talk to Daum before confronting the men.

  He settled for quietly backing up a couple of paces. He opened his mouth to challenge the men in the stall, but then had another idea. Reaching out with his ghost, he projected his voice to a spot of air a few feet outside the stall. “What are you men doing in there?” A cold clammy feeling came over him.

  A feeling of certainty that they were about to charge out of the stall and attack him.

  Instead, the one standing by the stall door leaned away from the wall almost resignedly. He slowly pushed the stall door open and stepped into the opening. At first he appeared startled to find no one just outside the stall where Tarc’s voice would have seemed to come from. Then he turned, looking toward the light for whomever had spoken. He said, “Sorry, we’re just looking for a place to stay the night. We’ll be happy to pay for the stall.”

  Tarc blinked in the darkness. They’d had people sleep in the stable in the past. People who couldn’t afford a room, or on the other occasions when all the rooms in the tavern were full. He felt pretty sure that his parents would be happy for the coin, but he supposed he’d better see what kind of men these were before he went in to talk to his parents. Abandoning his projected voice, he said, “Just a minute.”

  Startled by the direction and distance of Tarc’s voice the man turned and crouched as if he expected to be attacked.

  Tarc walked toward, and then past the man standing in the stall doorway, though giving him a wide berth. At the end of the stable he got the lamp. Holding it up, he carried it back towards the stall.

  “How were you seeing to feed them horses?” the man said as Tarc approached with the light.

  Damn! Tarc thought. He’d hoped the man hadn’t been able to tell what Tarc had been doing. “I’ve worked here so long I know this stable like the palm of my own hand,” he said, hoping the men would find it plausible. Even more dismaying, as the light came over them Tarc saw that the seven men were more of the hard looking strangers.

  He wondered for a moment. Just how did he instinctively classify these recent strangers as different from other travelers? Merchants and other strangers who’d been coming through their town and staying at the tavern all of his life. Why did he think these new ones were different? What was it that made him think of them as “hard?”

  Looking at this sample he realized that part of their commonality lay in the fact that they all looked physically fit. None of them looked like prosperous, soft merchants. Instead, these and the others who’d been in the tavern recently looked more like the guards that prosperous merchants hired to protect them on the road.

  The man interrupted Tarc’s woolgathering, “Well, can we sleep here?”

  Usually the Hyllises charged one third the price of a room to stay in the stable, but Tarc thought he should insist on more. Perhaps the men would decide to stay elsewhere which would be good in its own right. Tarc named a price that was half that of a room inside.

  The stranger agreed without even dickering! Tarc held out his hand, indicating he wanted to be paid up front and the man reached into his pocket and pulled out coin. He sorted through his money in the light of Tarc’s lamp and passed over enough for all seven of them. “OK,” Tarc said, “breakfast will be available about an hour after first light if you want to eat inside.” He turned and went back into the tavern.

  Daum’s eyebrows raised as Tarc told him about the strangers and passed him the money. “And you say they are the same kind of strangers as these in here?” his eyes indicated the table of five in the big room.

  Tarc glanced briefly at the big man who’d threatened him over Daussie, glad that he had considered the question when he’d been out in the stable. “Yes, they all look fit, like caravan guards. None of them look like merchants. They are all well-armed, each carrying a sword.” Swords weren’t that uncommon. There was plenty of steel in the ruins of the ancients after all, and so it wasn’t that difficult for a smith to turn out some kind of long edged weapon. Tarc suspected that many of the swords the strangers carried weren’t very high quality. Still, not all that many people owned swords. The deputies were about the only ones who carried them within the walls of Walterston.

  Daum said unhappily, “I don’t like this… I don’t like it at all. I’d send you down to the deputies’ station to tell them about all these strangers, but they’d probably just laugh it off again, like the sheriff did when he ate lunch here.”

  Tarc thought about this for a moment. “I guess the deputies must know that there are a lot of these strangers. They must have let them in through the gate, after all.”

  Daum shrugged gloomily, granting that Tarc’s statement must be true. “Aye, but the left hand may not know what the right hand has been doing. If they came in through different gates, during different shifts of the watch, it may be that different deputies only know their own little parts of the whole elephant.”

  Tarc found
this to be a strange analogy. He’d heard of elephants; the next town to the south had several elephants owned by a family that used them for heavy construction. But he’d never heard them used as an example of a concept difficult to grasp in toto. After a moment’s thought, he said, “You want me to go down to the deputy station and point it out to them anyway?”

  One of the strangers approached the bar with an empty mug. Turning to take the mug, Daum said over his shoulder to Tarc, “Nah, it’d just be a waste of your time.”

  The eight strangers cast a somewhat uncomfortable pall over the great room that evening and the local crowd began leaving early. Then to Daum and Tarc’s surprise, the strangers went to bed much earlier than people usually did, claiming that they had an early day tomorrow.

  Chapter Six

  Daum shook Tarc awake in the middle of the night.

  “What?” Tarc asked muzzily.

  “Some thumping around came from the strangers’ rooms a little while ago.” He said with a worried tone to his voice. “I’m hoping you can use your ghost to see what they’re doing in there in the middle of the night? Eva’s ghost can’t reach through a wall like yours can.”

  Tarc cast his ghost out into each of the guest rooms. “They’re gone,” he said wonderingly.

  “What!?” Daum said. “Surely you couldn’t tell from here!”

  Tarc shrugged, “I’m pretty sure I could tell if they were here. I could sense the men in the stable from this far away.”

  Daum said, “They left in the middle of the night? That just doesn’t make sense. Let’s go out in the hall so you can be absolutely sure.”

  Daum picked up his candle and they quietly padded out through Tarc’s door which Daum had left open. Out in the hallway between the guestrooms, Tarc stopped still for a moment, then turned to Daum and whispered, “There’s no one in the guest rooms. I can feel Mom and Daussie in their rooms, so I know my ghost could tell if they were there. The two men who were sleeping on the floor downstairs are gone too.”