Hood

by Laurence Dahners

  Tarc placed his voice next to the king, currently crouched on his hands with one leg drawn up under him. Speaking equably, “King Uray, are you ready to send some guards to free the rest of the girls you’re holding here in the palace?”

  “No!” the king shouted angrily.

  The king was drawing a breath to elaborate when Tarc spun his canals again. He felt amused when the big man pitched to one side and landed on top of the guard he’d just thrown off. He whispered the question about how many girls next to the ear of the fifth guard. This one whispered back, “None.”

  “I don’t believe that’s true,” Tarc said spinning the man’s canals. As this man reeled across the room, Tarc worried for a moment that he was going to crash out through the window. Instead, he stumbled over a chair and crumpled to the floor well short.

  Tarc moved on to the sixth man. This one also said there were four more girls.

  Tarc again put the question to the four men who’d either refused to answer or claimed there weren’t any. He wound up spinning the canals on two of them again. The other two had to be spun twice more. At the end of this, he’d gotten five answers of “four more” and one answer of “three more” which he decided probably meant there were actually four other girls.

  He checked on the king again. The man was starting to rise to his feet. Tarc said, “Are you ready to send your guards to free the girls?”

  The king bellowed, “Where the hell are you?! Show yourself, you chicken-livered coward!”

  Tarc punched the man in the balls again, doubling him over. He checked the others in the room. The girls still huddled in a corner apparently consoling one another. The guards were standing or crouching almost motionlessly. He thought they had all eyes on their king but had no idea what to do. Tarc turned to Lizeth, “Any ideas?”

  “You hit him in the balls again, right? Could you castrate him?”

  Tarc shrugged, “Because I really can’t hit hard, I’ve been hitting him in a really small area. Small enough that each strike punches a little hole into his testicle. I’m sure it’s doing damage, so maybe if I did it enough times?”

  “Oh-ho!” Lizeth exclaimed, a big smile evident in the tone of her voice. “He’s probably bleeding, right?”

  “Probably.”

  She laughed. “The men I know, they’d just shit if their balls were bleeding. They could have a big wound in their right leg and a tiny one in their left nut and they’d be most worried about their nut. But I’ll bet he doesn’t even know you’ve been poking holes into his balls, does he?”

  Tarc shrugged, “Maybe not.”

  “Tell him to have a look. Seeing blood down there’ll put the fear of God in him.”

  The king was just straightening up. He drew his sword and turned toward the girls. He cried, “Kill the bitches,” and started across the room.

  Tarc swirled the king’s ears, sending him stumbling into the wall where he crashed to the floor with his sword beneath him. Tarc had no time to try to decide whether the sword had injured him; he was turning his attention to the other six men. They’d turned toward the girls and four of them started that way—Tarc suspected the same four who’d been brave enough to refuse to answer his question about how many more girls there were. Tarc spun their canals, worried one would get a blade out, then stagger into the girls, perhaps doing them serious injury. Fortunately, the one that managed to draw his sword lurched off to the left and blundered into the wall.

  Thinking, I’ve got to get those girls to safety, Tarc sent his ghirit into the next room. It was empty. He spoke to the girls, “Get up! I’m going to guide you to another room before one of these men hurts you by accident.”

  Tarc had been worried the girls might be frozen with panic, but they scrambled to their feet. At his direction, they went to the door, exited, and turned into the next room. “Lizeth, keep your ghirit on them. We don’t want someone going in there and finding them.”

  “Have them brace a chair against the door.”

  Tarc made the suggestion to the two girls, then asked Lizeth to see how that went since he was turning his attention back to the room with the king.

  The king was just beginning to push himself up off the floor. Tarc sent his voice and said, “You may think I’ve only been kicking you in the balls. I’d urge you to check your family jewels. I’ve actually been stabbing them with a stiletto. I’m thinking you probably don’t want me to do that many more times?”

  The king’s hand went to his waistband, pulling it open. His head dropped down so he could see. Virulent cursing ensued.

  Loudly, Tarc asked, “Are you ready to let the girls go, or am I going to have to make a steer out of you?”

  The king didn’t appear to have heard, but since he wasn’t doing anything aggressive, Tarc checked on the guards. They’d all gathered across the room by where the one who’d gotten out his sword had staggered into the wall. Apparently, trying to catch himself as he fell, he’d put down the point of his sword like a cane. It’d stuck in the wooden floor, then as he fell, he slid down the edge of the blade, opening a large wound in his side. To Tarc’s ghirit, the men seemed to be trying to press something—perhaps a shirt—into the wound to stanch the bleeding.

  One of them ran out of the room, presumably to get help.

  Tarc realized—presuming the king’s advisor had raised the alarm—it was surprising more men hadn’t already arrived … I’ve got to get the king under control before they do! He sent his ghirit over next to the king’s head and boomed as loudly as he could, “Are you ready to let the girls go? Or should I start castrating you?” To focus the man’s attention, he tugged gently on the king’s scrotum.

  The king squealed at the touch of Tarc’s ghirit, then started begging, “No! No, I’ll let them go! Please!”

  “Okay, send some guards to release the other four girls.” When the king didn’t say anything immediately, Tarc tugged on the man’s testicles again.

  The king barked at the guards, yelling at them to free the rest of the girls. Two of the guards leaped to their feet and left the room at a run.

  Lizeth said, “The girls have the door braced and they’ve hidden in a closet. I’m going to follow those guards to make sure they do what they were told… Oh, that’s not going to work. They’ll be beyond my range in a few more seconds.”

  “I’ll watch them,” Tarc said, sending his ghirit after the guards down the hall outside. “You keep an eye on what’s going on with the king and the girls.”

  Finding the running guards wasn’t difficult because they were the only fast moving warm spots in the area.

  Uh-oh, Tarc thought. “Lizeth, it looks like an entire guard troop’s heading for the chamber. They’ve got a gaggle of other people following them. I’m going to keep following the two guards. Let me know if I’m needed back in the king’s chamber.”

  But the two guards encountered the oncoming troop. They stopped to talk to the troop’s leader. Because Tarc hadn’t been listening, it wasn’t clear whether this was because the leader had demanded it, or whether they’d stopped on their own. When Tarc started listening, one of the guards was saying, “… I don’t know what’s going on! A voice is coming from here and there around the room, giving orders. If you don’t do as the voice says, you’re suddenly overcome with dizziness and nausea! During one of the episodes, Winton fell on his sword. He’s got a gruesome wound.”

  “Where?”

  “In his side, “

  “Is he going to live?”

  “How the hell should I know? I’m not a healer! It looks bad.”

  “And where’re you two going?”

  “The king sent us to release the girls he’s been holding.”

  “I thought two of the girls were there with him?”

  “We’re supposed to release the other four.”

  “You think that’s what the king really wants you to do?”

  Tarc spoke from above their heads, “Yes, that is what the king wants them to do. He
also wants you to take your troop back to the barracks.”

  The men’s heads tilted back and twisted about as they tried to see where Tarc’s voice was coming from. The troop leader said, “This is bullshit, I’m…”

  Tarc spun the man’s canals, pitching him to the side. There he flailed hard into the wall. Tarc put as much authority in his voice as he could, loudly demanding, “Who’s second-in-command of this troop?”

  A man hesitantly stepped forward, “I am, sir.”

  “Take your troop back to barracks. Detail some men to carry your troop leader.” Tarc saw the troop’s leader struggling to right himself and rise so he spun the man’s canals again.

  The man flopped. Tarc’s ghirit conveyed the sound of retching.

  The second-in-command waved a couple of his men to help the troop leader, then bellowed, “About-face.” The men of the troop spun in place to face the opposite direction.

  As they marched away, Tarc placed the source of his voice between the two guards and said, “Let’s go release those girls.”

  When they reached the room where the girls were being held, Tarc grimly realized it was next door to the one where his mother’d been held. The girls were ecstatic when one of the guards told them they were being released. They quickly gathered a few belongings and scurried out of the room. Just outside though, one of the girls stopped, “What about Sylvia and Nerri?”

  The guard said, “Um, we think they’re being released too.”

  “Think?” the girl asked.

  “Um, this voice… it’s been telling us what to do. It seems…” He hesitated, then continued in a rush, “I don’t think it likes you girls being held. I think it wants you all turned loose.”

  “A voice?” the girl said doubtfully.

  Tarc sent his voice near the girls, “Yes. This voice. I’m getting Nerri and Sylvia released too. You could help a lot by getting out of the palace as quickly as possible. That way I can turn my attention back to their situation.”

  The sourceless voice made the other three girls squeal in fright. However, the one who’d asked the questions turned to face the spot where Tarc had projected his voice. Unable to see her conflicted expression, he wasn’t sure what she was thinking. For a moment, he thought she’d refuse, but then she simply said, “Okay.” She turned to the guards saying, “Let’s hurry.”

  To Tarc’s relief, the guards started toward a gate close to Tarc and Lizeth’s current location. But then, since it wasn’t the closest gate to their current location, he wondered why. Sending his voice, he asked the guard who’d been leading, “Why aren’t you going to the gate near the Palace Tavern? It’d be closer, wouldn’t it?”

  “Um, that’s not a safe part of town for young women.”

  Embarrassed that he hadn’t considered the possibility the girls might not be safe once they left the palace, Tarc put his voice next to the young woman with the questions. The one he thought of as having gumption. “Can you tell me your name?”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll need a way to make sure the king honors his promise to leave you girls free. I’d like to be able to ask you later whether all six of you are okay.”

  “Kali Rath. Who are you?”

  “I’m… Call me… ‘Hood.’”

  “That’s an odd name.”

  Tarc didn’t respond to that. Instead, he said, “If the guards release you just outside the palace gate, will you be able to get home safely by yourselves? Or, will you need guards to go with you?”

  In a scathing tone, the girl said, “We’ll be better off by ourselves. A lot safer than if a palace guard’s with us.”

  Relieved by that, Tarc spoke into Lizeth’s ear. “What’s the king been doing?” Though the king was well within the area covered by Tarc’s ghirit, he hadn’t been paying attention to the big man’s activities.

  “He seemed pretty cowed at first. Now he’s starting to act like an asshole again.” She sighed, “War for succession or not, I’m not sure we should leave him alive.”

  “The girls are okay?” Tarc said, quickly checking with his ghirit and finding them still in the closet of the adjoining room.

  Lizeth nodded, “I haven’t been listening much to them, mostly to the king. When I do, they sound frightened but okay.”

  “The other four girls are being taken to the palace gate about forty meters west of us. I’m thinking I should guide these two to meet the other four. Could you get them all home safely?”

  “You don’t want to spend time with the grateful young women you just rescued?” Lizeth asked in an acid tone. “I’m sure they’ll be grateful.”

  Tarc sagged, disappointed that Lizeth thought that of him. He sighed, “I was thinking I should stay here and spend more time convincing the king he had to behave better. I’d appreciate it if you’d help the girls get to their homes, but if you can’t, I’ll do it, then come back to the king.”

  Sounding chastened, but still irritated, Lizeth said, “No, no, I’ll take care of them.” She stepped away and strode off down the street.

  Tarc hoped any guards who’d been watching them from the wall didn’t notice how the supposedly drunken Lizeth now appeared completely sober. For his part, Tarc staggered like a drunk as he made his way across the street and around the corner. As he did so, he sent his voice to the closet and told the girls to get out of it. He had them to climb out the window rather than enter the hallway since a pair of warm bodies were approaching out there. After they’d trotted between a couple of buildings, he said, “Step around this corner to your right.” When they’d done it, he said, “Wait here for a moment.”

  Sounding curious as well as fearful, Nerri asked, “What’re we waiting for?”

  “Some people are about to walk past the next corner up ahead. I’d rather they didn’t see you.”

  “I thought the king was letting us go?”

  “He is, but since we don’t have anyone with you to explain that, I’d rather you didn’t run into someone who might decide to hold onto you while they check with him.”

  “Oh…”

  When the way was clear, Tarc had them continue toward the gate. He sent his voice to the guards with the other four girls, “Wait at the next intersection. Sylvia and Nerri are going to join you. You can take all six out the gate.”

  A couple of minutes later, there was a nervously joyous reunion of the six girls, then the guards took them on to the gate.

  Tarc worried the gate guards might raise objections, but they were cowed by the presence of king’s guards and readily accepted their orders. As the girls came through the gate, Tarc wondered where Lizeth was. His ghirit couldn’t recognize her, but there was a warm body leaning on the wall just around the corner from the gate. He sent his voice there, “Lizeth, is that you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They’ve just come out the gate, I’ll guide them to you.”

  Lizeth didn’t respond, making Tarc think she was still pissed.

  He sent his voice to Kali.

  ~~~

  As Kali and the other five girls stepped through the gate and out onto the street, one of the two guards who’d brought them through the palace said, “Aiden and I’ll take you to your homes. Who lives the closest?”

  Kali said, “No! We’ll go by ourselves.”

  The guard said, “It’s not safe. Especially,” his eyes flicked to Sylvia and Nerri, “not dressed the way they are.”

  Kali saw all the other girls looked frightened by the prospect of walking the streets dressed as they were. She realized—living in the palace—she’d gotten used to wearing little in the way of clothing since the king hadn’t provided them with modest garments. At present Sylvia and Nerri’s clothes were positively provocative. She handed Nerri the jacket she’d brought from their communal room.

  She was just about to reluctantly accept the guards’ offer when she heard Hood’s strange voice again, right next to her ear. She thought to herself he sounded like a young man. Too young to be doing wha
t it’d been doing.

  His voice said, “Go across the street and around the corner to the left. There’s someone there who’ll guard you on your way home.”

  Since Hood’s voice had come from right next to her ear and hadn’t been very loud, Kali wasn’t sure whether anyone else heard it. Wondering why she trusted Hood, she turned to the guard to say, “We’ll be okay.” She waved the others to follow her, “This way.”

  When she rounded the corner, Kali saw no one. There was only a tall, slender, cinnamon-skinned woman. She was dressed in leather and looked tough but certainly couldn’t guard them.

  The woman was young, about Kali’s age. She leaned away from the wall and stared at them. “Tarc!” she said, “They’re dressed like…” she hesitated.

  “Sluts,” Kali thought the woman had been about to say but had restrained herself. Then Kali wondered what the curse “Tarc” meant. She’d never heard it.

  The woman resumed, “They’re, uh, scantily clad. I… Um, they shouldn’t walk through town dressed like this.”

  Hood’s voice came from the air near the woman in leather, “Aren’t there clothing stores down the street?”

  “You think I should buy them some clothes?!”

  The next words from the voice were quiet—Kali thought they were only intended for the woman in leather—but Kali still heard them. It said, “You desperately wanted to rescue these girls.” Then with a long-suffering sigh, “Buy what they need,” it said. “I’ll pay you back for what you spend. Please do it as cheaply as you can.”

  “I probably don’t have enough money. Women’s clothes are expensive, you know.”

  “Buy cheap men’s clothes. You just want them covered, right?”

  “Okay,” the woman said, giving Kali a dubious look. Waving on down the street, “This way.”

  Kali thought with some amusement she should feel disappointed. In the romantic stories she’d heard, the damsel’s rescuer was always a dashing man with no concerns about money. Shaking away her brief reverie, she studied the woman a moment. “Who’re you?”

  The woman studied her right back, “In case the king sends someone asking after us later I’d rather not say. You can call me… ‘Joan.’”