Teleporter (a Hyllis family story #2) (2 page)

At first Tarc didn’t understand what she was saying, but then realized she was talking to Daum and wondering whether they should wait until Daussie was fifteen. But then Daussie asked, “Shouldn’t what?”

Daum and Eva were staring at one another, both looking somewhat apprehensive now. Then Daussie looked down at the table and said, “The copper’s been moved!” She looked up and around at her family. “I
know
none of you touched it!” she said wonderingly. Her eyes narrowed, “How did
that
happen?!”

Tarc looked expectantly at his parents, waiting for them to explain it to Daussie. In his opinion if she couldn’t do it, they’d just as well find out about it. There was no point in dragging out the agony. Besides, deep inside, he felt sure she could. However, his parents shifted uncomfortably in their seats, glancing at one another and not saying anything.

Daussie looked at each of them, finally focusing on Tarc to say, “What’s the matter?!”

Tarc shrugged uncomfortably, then had an idea for something to say. “They call these things ‘talents.’”

Daussie’s eyes narrowed and roved to her parents then back to Tarc, “What things?”

“These, uh, abilities to, uh, sense things. Like where the sun is.”

His mother cleared her throat as if she were about to interrupt, but she didn’t.

“And, what’s inside of things,” Tarc finished lamely.

Daussie’s eyes went back and forth and around her family, “And…?”

Tarc looked up at his parents to find them looking uncomfortably at one another again. He suddenly wanted to get up and leave. He wanted to get away from this disquieting situation. He found himself avoiding Daussie’s eyes. After a moment, he realized he was awkwardly staring at the copper which might be problematic. He looked up at Daussie, but found that her eyes had already followed his to the bit of metal on the table.

Daussie looked up, “Did one of you… move that copper with your… talent?”

Eva’s eyes squinched shut in dismay. Daum simply stared at the copper the way one might stare at a venomous snake.

Daussie said, “You
did
didn’t you?” Though she phrased it as a question, her tone made it into a statement. She glanced around at them again, then said, “And you’re all flustered because you’re afraid I might
not
be able to do it?”

Eva slowly nodded. “It might be… it might… somehow
keep
you from being able to do it if you try to do it too young.” She sighed, “We don’t know if that’s true, but we’re worried about it.”

Daussie gave her mother an intense look, “So… not everyone has the same talent? Or talents?”

Eva shook her head.

Daussie said, “What can you do?”

Eva shrugged, “The same as you. Sense the sun, and other warm objects. Feel inside of things.”

“But you
can’t
move coppers?”

Eva shook her head, looking miserable.

Daussie looked at her father, “Dad?”

Daum cleared his throat and glanced at Eva. “I can sense the sun, and warm objects.”

“And move coppers?”

Daum’s head minutely jerked up and down in the affirmative, but he said nothing.

“Can you sense the insides of things?”

He shook his head.

“Can Tarc feel the insides of things?” she asked, looking at Tarc speculatively.

Since she hadn’t asked him, Tarc didn’t feel compelled to answer. He looked at his parents, wondering what they would say.

After a moment, Eva said, almost inaudibly and with a slight break in her voice, “He can.”

Daussie sat staring at her mother for a moment, then turned her eyes to the copper. She glanced up at Tarc and at her father, but then her eyes dropped back down to the copper again. “There’s no use in putting it off. I’d just as well find out whether or not I can do it.” She looked up at Daum, “What do I do?”

“Um,” Daum looked uncomfortably at Eva. She gave an imperceptible nod and he looked back at his daughter. “You reach out and sense it, like you did before.”

Daussie stared at him for a moment, “I thought you couldn’t sense things?”

“I can’t sense
inside
of things. I
can
sense the outsides of things...”

Daussie’s eyes returned to the copper and focused on it. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “Okay, I sense it. Now what?”

“Um,” Daum hesitated, “you, uh, you
push
on it.” After a pause, “Whatever direction you want it to go.”

Daussie stared at the copper with an intent look. Then she closed her eyes a moment, frowning. Muscles bunched at her jaw for a second or two then her eyes popped open to look at the copper again. Disappointment spread across her countenance, then a look of horror. Her face collapsed into an expression of pinched dismay that Tarc remembered well from particularly successful taunts or jeers he had inflicted on her in the past. Suddenly, she scrambled out of her chair, ran across the room and pounded up the stairs.

Tarc heard the door to her room slam. To his surprise, he realized that he felt horribly disappointed that Daussie wasn’t able to do it. He turned to look at his parents. Daum’s face was white with dismay. Regretful tears trickled down Eva’s cheeks. “Sorry,” Tarc said quietly, feeling that the expression of sympathy was wholly inadequate.

As he washed the dishes, Tarc pondered just how quickly their breakfast had transformed from a joyous celebration into a funereal tragedy.

***

Tarc spent part of the morning helping his father wash the mash tun in their little brewery. When Daum told him to go help his mother for a while he found her sitting, at her seat in the kitchen with red rimmed eyes. He didn’t know what to say and didn’t want to say anything, but finally managed, “Dad says I should help you for a while.”

“I’m not doing anything,” she told him. “Go study.” Then before he had left, “Wait.” She studied his face for a moment, then waved him to the little stool in the nook where he studied sometimes. After a bit, she said, “Since Daussie doesn’t have the talent to… push things like you can.” Her face worked a moment and she swallowed, then continued in a raspy voice, “You’re going to be our most important healer, whether you want to be or not.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to be!” he protested weakly, “It’s just that I can’t see… why I should learn about the diseases I can’t do anything for!”

Disappointment on her face, Eva said, “We’ve talked about this before Tarc. You’re very bright! By understanding these diseases, you’ll have a chance to perhaps figure out a way that you
can
treat them. The treatment you thought up for the cancers in Ms. Gates being a
very
obvious example! Besides, you
must
be able to recognize the diseases that you
can’t
treat so that you don’t try
to treat them when it
won’t
work.”

Tarc rolled his eyes, “
Daussie’s
interested in these things. She
wants
to be a healer!
She
can figure this stuff out and just ask for my help when she needs somebody to push things around inside of people.”

Eva sighed, “And just what are
you
going to do with your life?”

“I don’t know,” he said sullenly, “brew beer like dad I guess.”

Eva sighed again, “Go! Study. A day like this…” her voice broke and she waved him away as she turned toward the window, “you’ll never get a better chance.”

***

Arvil Tornesson climbed the stairs up to the room that Daum Hyllis had shot that bastard Krait from. The room looked little different than it had yesterday. Somehow he had been expecting that it would have some kind of an historic air about it. He walked over and looked out the window that Hyllis had fired his arrows through. It was still propped slightly open.

He looked out the narrow opening at the platform from which Krait had ranted and ordered innocent men killed. For a moment, he imagined himself displaying his humility as the townspeople thanked him for allowing Hyllis to fire from the room in his house. They would ask him how he had the courage, knowing the low likelihood that Hyllis would be successful, to let the man put Tornesson, and his home and family at risk.

He snorted a small laugh at himself. That was hubris, not humility. Imagining that his own role in
allowing
someone to shoot arrows from his home could even compare to the risks undertaken by the man who actually fired the shot. Best not to brag on it then. Better to wait for people to hear about it on their own. Surely, the story would spread far and wide without his help; then he could acknowledge his own small role in saving their town with a mere nod of his head.

***

John Blacksmith narrowed his eyes as he watched Asher Farley make his way around the room. Farley had sent his boys around to call a meeting of the town’s prosperous merchants. Then just as John had suspected, the arrogant SOB had shown up late to the meeting himself.

Farley reached John, clapped him on the shoulder, shook his hand, murmured thanks for his attendance, and moved on. John worked his massive shoulders in an attempt to relax a little as he wondered just what it was about Farley that set him on edge.

Soon Farley had made his way to the front of the room and raised his hand to get everyone’s attention. “Thank you all for coming down here. I know that every one of you has a business that could use your attention. However, we have a serious problem facing us. A problem that could not only destroy our businesses, but our entire town.” Farley had braced his hands on the table in front of him, and now took a moment to sweep the room with his eyes. “We, my friends, are ripe for the plucking. I’m sure that some of you have given this some thought, but perhaps not all. Our civil and military leaders, Sheriff Walter and Captain Pike are both dead. All of Walter’s deputies have been killed. Only Sergeant Garcia remains of Captain Pike’s training cadre. We’ve just beaten off a determined attempt to take over our town and for a short period any bandits or raiders out there will fear us. That is, until they figure out that we
can’t
protect ourselves again
.”

Murmurs swept the room. Some men turned to speak to their neighbors, some protested that the town still had its militia.

Farley raised his voice, “Sure, every man in this town is trained in the defense of our walls, but we don’t have a
leader
for those men. We
also
,” he spoke louder to ride over some of the continued murmuring, “don’t have a police force. Garcia has been drafting militia members to guard the gate and stand the watch, but you’re not gonna like that when your turn comes!”

In the back of the room someone said, “Can’t Garcia take over as sheriff?”

Farley rolled his eyes, “Garcia is a
follower
. He was
only
a sergeant you know. He’s a fine man and we should all express our appreciation for his role in organizing the defense of our town at present. But he is
not
sheriff material.”

John had always thought of Sheriff Walter as a kind of tyrant. A relatively benign tyrant perhaps, but his taxes had been arbitrary and there was no doubt that he had lived “high on the hog.” John had been hoping that they might get to some kind of democratically elected government with Walter gone. He put up a hand to propose it. However, no one else had raised a hand, they were merely shouting suggestions. After a moment, he shouted his own suggestion, “We should elect someone.”

Someone else said, “Hire the bastard who put that arrow in Krait’s eye!”

The man next to John nudged him and whispered, “Did you hear that some son of a bitch put arrows or knives or
something
in the eyes of a whole lot of Krait’s men?”

Farley grimaced; then bellowed for quiet. He was a big man, though not in John’s league. However, he was widely thought of as being the wealthiest man in town barring dead Sheriff Walter. He was also the de facto leader of this meeting, having called it. After a moment, the room settled to a few muttered comments. Farley said, “This town needs a leader
now
. I propose that I take over the role of sheriff briefly. I will temporarily appoint Garcia in Captain Pike’s place and deputize him to continue militia drafts to guard the town. I will find and hire deputies to keep the peace. I will find and hire mercenaries to protect us until we can find someone permanent.” He nodded towards the back of the room where John suddenly noticed a couple of big tough looking men bearing swords, “I’ve already taken the liberty of hiring a couple of deputies with my own funds.”

An icy feeling settled into John’s stomach as he realized that Farley hadn’t called a meeting so they could make a decision, he’d called a meeting to tell everyone what he’d already decided. Sure, he cloaked it in nice terms and acted like he was only acting in everyone’s best interests.