“Um,” Daussie considered saying that she had to go talk to her mother first. Then she decided she should tell Gates the truth. The obnoxious woman wanted it, after all. “Uh, I found some cancer in your spine and your kidney and your hip. It seems like… like there are… scars in your lungs and your liver and your brain where you might have had cancer before. I need to ask my mother where it was that you had the cancer and where they’ve been treating you.”
Gates turned disbelieving eyes on Daussie. “Sure, like I believe that.” She waved a hand, “Go on back and talk to your mommy, girl.” Her eyes turned resignedly back up to the ceiling.
Daussie got up and went back to the kitchen. Were those really scars? Did they used to be cancers that Tarc actually has treated? She felt like her head was spinning with the possibilities.
Out in the kitchen, Daussie found Tarc and Eva having a heated discussion. They both looked up at her when she entered and immediately stopped talking as if they felt guilty or something. “What’s going on?” Daussie asked.
Eva said, “What did you find?”
Annoyed that Eva had ignored her question and instead posed her own, nonetheless Daussie answered. She described the places she thought she had found cancer and the spots of dense tissue where she thought there might have been cancer in the past.
Tarc had a beaker with some moist cotton balls. He shouldered past Daussie and into the big room as if he were trying to distance himself from whatever argument Eva and Daussie were about to have. Daussie smelled moonshine when he passed. Eva called out, “Tarc, come back. We need to talk about…” Eva glanced at Daussie, then shrugged and turned back to Tarc as he reentered the kitchen. Focusing on Tarc, Eva said, “You need to work on as many of Mrs. Gates tumors as you can. With us leaving town it’ll be her last treatment.”
Tarc nodded and went back into the big room again.
Daussie fixed Eva with an eye and said, “Are those scars really places where Tarc has treated her before?
Eva nodded.
“How is he killing her cancers? I thought even the ancients couldn’t do that?”
Eva grimaced and said, “The ancients could kill cancer by cutting it out with surgery or with radiation. With both of those treatments they often damaged the patient as well, especially with radiation. It was hard for them to tell exactly where inside the patient the cancer was, so they aimed the radiation to try to have its maximum effect right in the cancer, but it often killed a lot of healthy tissue around it and made the patient pretty sick.”
“What is Tarc doing?”
“The best I understand it is that he makes the molecules in the cancer tissue move faster, or in other words, he makes the tissue hotter. He heats it just enough to kill the cancer without doing much damage to the tissue around it. Because he’s using his ghost sense to feel the cancer he knows exactly where it is and what to heat.”
Daussie drew back as the implications of what Eva had just said became apparent. She had more questions, but just then Mrs. Gates voice came from the next room, “Eva, are you going to get out here and tell this young fool where to do the treatments, are you just gonna let him guess?”
Eva snorted and rolled her eyes at Daussie, then stepped past her, out into the big room.
Daussie heard Eva say, “Roll over on your stomach, we’re going to treat your spine and your kidney.”
“On my stomach! I won’t be able to breathe!”
“You’ll be able to breathe fine,” Eva said impatiently. She snorted, “A hell of a lot better than you’ll be able to breathe if this cancer kills you.”
Daussie heard some thumping, presumably the older woman turning over. Then her voice said, “And what’s this about you leaving town? Are you turning tail and running just because a bunch of snake headed gossips are saying mean things about you?”
Eva sounded morose, “I guess we are…”
Daussie went on across the kitchen and out the back door so she didn’t have to hear any more. She went through the courtyard, in the back door to the big room and up the stairs to try to decide which of her things she could bear to leave behind. As she worked, she found herself pondering Tarc’s ability to heat things. What other things might he be able to treat with heat, other than cancers?
***
At noon the Watsons returned from the market and began unloading their wagon. They had taken over one of the rooms upstairs. They created a great pile of their personal possessions in that room. Other piles began to appear in the kitchen, the great room, the tub room, and the stable.
Tarc and Daum went by their wagon while they were unloading it. Tarc felt astonished to see just how much they were removing from it. Looking in he saw a series of chambers were built into the wagon box. Most could only be accessed through the floorboards of the area under the canopy where they slept when it was raining.
Watson said, “We keep our valuables underneath the floor here where a thief would have to wake us up to get to it. Even though we lock up the little trailer that we tow behind the wagon, we don’t think it’s as safe.”
Daum said, “I’m planning to distill some moonshine in the evenings while we’re traveling. Would you come look at the small kettle and condenser I’m trying to take with us? I’m hoping you’ll have some ideas on where we should put it in the wagon.”
Tarc found the amount of planning it took to pack their stuff into the wagon, especially to place it where they could get it out when they needed it, quite daunting. Just figuring out how to pack his own things into his small section gave him quite the headache.
He and his father had just finished re-bending the copper tubing for the still so that it would fit into the slot they’d picked for it, when he heard Lizeth’s voice behind them. “Hello Mr. Hyllis, I’m Lizeth, one of the guards. Arco, our Lieutenant, asked me to talk to you about caravan defense now that you’ve decided to join us.”
Daum turned to her and snorted, “An unpleasant, though important topic I’m sure. Normally, I’d be irritated about having to spend time on it, but right now I’d rather do anything other than figure out how we’re going to get all our stuff into this tiny space.” He stood and stretched his back, “What’s our role?”
She smiled at him, “That depends on your skills. My understanding is that your wife and daughter have no training at all in fighting but are pretty good healers?”
Daum nodded.
“Then we would expect to keep them in reserve to treat any of our injured. Nonetheless, I would like to spend a little time teaching them a few basics about fighting in case raiders break through.” Her eyes went to Tarc, “Tarc here, needs some training with the sword, and he’s agreed to let me teach him a few things this afternoon if that’s okay with you?”
Daum gave Tarc an amused eye but only said, “Sure.”
Lizeth said, “And yourself Sir, do you have any particular skills already? Or would you like some training?”
“I’m pretty good with a bow and arrow.” He glanced at Tarc again, “So is Tarc for that matter.”
Lizeth looked at Tarc and raised an eyebrow. She turned back to Daum, “A good archer can be worth a lot in a fight if we have a little distance between ourselves and the enemy. Arco will want to see for himself just how ‘pretty good’ the two of you are. Would you mind shooting a few arrows at a target for us?”
Daum shrugged, “We wouldn’t mind, but we really don’t want to go out in town the way people are acting towards us. The only targets I know of are at the armory.”
Lizeth smiled, “We carry a target with us. It’s hooked onto the side of the guards’ wagon. I’ll hang it up on the back wall of the courtyard here and we’ll check the two of you out if you don’t mind.”
“Can I do it in about an hour? I’ve got a couple of things I really need to take care of.”
“Not a problem. If you don’t mind, I’ll take Tarc to the stable for a lesson with swords?”
Tarc found himself ambivalently following Lizeth across the
yard to the stable. He felt excited to spend time with her, yet apprehensive about being humiliated by her superior skill.
However, it was nothing like his earlier experience with her or the terrible experience with Jason. She never once used her surprising quickness to embarrass him. Instead, she showed him move after move, what might happen and how to try to counter it. Tarc had thought that Sergeant Eppley was a good teacher, but only a short way into Lizeth’s first lesson he felt like he had learned much more from her than in his many lessons with Eppley.
Of course, Lizeth was teaching him one-on-one. And, he was paying intense attention, though not always to what she was saying about sword fighting. Although he was tired, he still felt disappointed when she said, “I think our hour is up. We’d better go set up the target and see if your dad is ready to show us some archery.”
Lizeth and Tarc hauled the big target off the side of the guard wagon over to the wall and hung it on one of the hooks there. She returned to the wagon and got several bows and a bundle of practice arrows. When they stepped inside the big room, Daum saw them and nodded. He got his own bow from where he’d leaned it up against the bar and called across the room, “Daussie, keep an eye on the bar. Give me a call if you get swamped.”
Daussie nodded from where she sat at the treatment table wrapping Eva’s ancient glass devices in old clothing and packing them carefully into a box.
Back outside, Lizeth looked at Daum’s bow. Her eyebrows went up and she gave him a respectful look. “If you’re worthy of that bow, Arco will be very happy to have you in the caravan.” She turned and shouted across the courtyard, “Arco!”
Arco turned, saw them on the steps and trotted their way. His eyes also immediately went to Daum’s bow, “Nice!” He smiled at Daum, “I hope you don’t mind showing us what you can do with that fine bow. It’s terribly important I know what we can expect from the members of the caravan if we do get in a fight.
Daum nodded, “I’m glad you want to know. I just hope I don’t embarrass myself.”
Arco gave a little laugh, “it’s good to know you’re nervous now. You’ll certainly be on edge if it comes to a fight. This way we’ll know how you’ll really do. Go ahead and take several shots. That should take the edge off.”
Lizeth held out one of the practice arrows. Daum had already put on his bracer. He strung his bow, took the arrow, nocked it on his string and looked across the yard of the target. Taking a deep breath he brought the bow up, drew and shot in one smooth motion. The arrow had a good line, but struck near the bottom of the target even with his and Tarc’s talents lifting it. “Damn,” Daum said, “misjudged the distance.”
Arco said, “That’s okay. Your opponent’s crotch would be hurting pretty bad right now. Shoot a few more.”
Daum plucked another arrow from Lizeth’s fingers, drew and shot again. This one stuck into the yellow bullseye. So did the next one, and the one after that was in the center of the bullseye.
Arco gave a delighted hoot, “Oh, we’ll be glad to have you behind us!” His eyes went to Tarc, “How about you, Boy? Can you shoot anything like your father?”
Irritated at being called “boy,” Tarc lifted the bow he’d chosen from the three that Lizeth had brought. He thought it had about the same pull as the one he’d been using at the armory. Lizeth handed him an arrow and he nocked it. He looked one more time at the target, wondering about the distance. At the armory he’d always shot a known distance and knew exactly how much elevation to give. He wished he’d paced the distance off while Lizeth was getting his father.
He lifted drew and shot, aiming higher than he thought he needed to so that he could correct downward with his talent. Pulling an arrow down was considerably easier than trying to lift a low shot. As soon as the arrow left the bow he realized it was really high and he desperately pulled the arrow head down with his talent. At the last moment he realized he was overdoing it, but by then it was too late and the arrow shot into the yellow bullseye.
Arco slapped Tarc on the back, “Way to go boy!” Then he turned to Lizeth and Daum, “That arrow must’ve been warped though. Did you see the way it dropped? At first I thought that he’d shot completely over the target. Still,” he grinned at Tarc, “luck or not, you hit the bullseye! Take another arrow and let’s see if you can do it again.”
Tarc took another arrow from Lizeth, desperately wanting to show Arco that it hadn’t been luck. Daum must’ve seen the look on his face because he frowned at Tarc and gave a minute head shake. Tarc sighed, lifted, drew, and shot. This time his elevation was about right. Tarc used just a touch of his talent to bring it into the red circle outside the bullseye.
Arco laughed, “Don’t be disappointed Boy, that was still a lot better than I expected you to shoot. Try it again.”
Tarc shot another, this time bringing it in near the edge between the red and yellow.
Arco whooped, “Good enough! Good enough. If we get attacked, you two will man the firing platform on top of the guard wagon. We’ll want your wagon right behind the guard wagon so you can get to the platform in a hurry.”
The little gathering broke up. As they went back inside Daum turned to Tarc, “I know you can shoot better. You know you can shoot better. That needs to be enough. Resist the temptation to be superhuman except in situations where we really need it.”
Tarc said, “Yeah, sorry. That first arrow, I shot it so high I thought I was going to be really embarrassed. I was pulling so hard to bring it into the center that it wasn’t until right before it hit that I realized I’d gotten it there.”
“Even the other two shots, Tarc. Those were both better than anyone would expect someone your age to be able to shoot.” He grinned slyly at his son, “You wouldn’t be trying to impress a pretty girl would you?”
Tarc blushed, “No!” he said sullenly.
Daum laughed, “You are too!” He snorted, “Better be careful Tarc. She’s older than you. She’ll break your heart. And she’s sure to be one of those guy’s girlfriend or they wouldn’t have a girl in the guards. Whoever it is probably won’t take kindly to you mooning around.”
“Dad! She’s… deadly! She isn’t in the guard just because she’s somebody’s girlfriend,” Tarc said disdainfully. “She’s so fast she beats all those guys in their sword practices.”
Daum grinned at his son, “Oh, you’ve got it bad don’t you?” He put his arm around Tarc’s shoulders and gave him a playful squeeze. “I remember what it’s like. She’s gorgeous, and unattainable, and exotic, and wonderful. All those things. But remember, chasing beautiful girls can be dangerous too. There’s always going to be other guys chasing them at the same time.”
Tarc said, “Um, Dad, I’ve been thinking that, if we might be in some real danger out on the road…”
Daum had started looking at something behind the bar, “Hmmm?”
“We should have more than two throwing knives.”
Daum swiveled around and frowned, “You’re not thinking about taking out any rivals for that girl’s affections are you?”
“No!” Tarc grimaced at his own sharp tone, “No, I’ve been thinking about this since Farley’s deputies had you trapped. If I’d thrown my knife at the one who had you pinned, I don’t think I could have hurt him very badly. With his back to me and that leather curiass I couldn’t have hit anything instantly fatal. As soon as I threw at him, I would’ve had to use my second knife to kill his partner and when the first guy turned and came after me, I wouldn’t have had anything except my work knife left.” Tarc paused, but before Daum said anything he continued, “Even fighting Krait’s men, there were several times when I wished I had more knives. I had to throw my work knife once and it’s hard to control.”
Daum turned and studied his son for a moment. “I see you’ve given this some serious thought. It’s hard for me to imagine getting in a situation where we’d need to throw more than two knives… But I guess you’ve already been in those types of circumstances and it seems to be even
more likely out on the road. Do you want to go over to the blacksmith’s tomorrow and see if you can get a few more?”
Tarc frowned, “Actually, I don’t want to go out in town, but I guess if I want the knives I’d better do it, huh? Do you want me to get some more for you too?”
Daum shrugged, then nodded.
***
The next morning, Tarc got up as early as Eva and Daussie did, quickly getting ahead on his chores. Then, while they were serving breakfast, he headed through town to the blacksmiths’ shops, hoping to get there and back before many people were on the streets.
He still encountered a couple of people who frowned, stared, or turned aside when they recognized him, but, with the streets less crowded, it was better than his last trip. When he arrived at John Blacksmith’s shop he had to knock on the door for a bit before anyone answered. When Sally Blacksmith appeared, she stared at him for a moment then glanced both ways down the street before letting him in.
She sighed, “I don’t really believe the things they’ve been saying about you and your family, but if some of the nosy witches in this town saw you coming in here it could cause us trouble.”
Tarc calmed himself and said, “Thank you for letting me in. It will mean a lot to us. I don’t know if you’re aware, but we’ve decided to leave town after the way everyone has been acting towards us.”
Sally drew her head back, “Oh come on! This will blow over, these things always do.”
Tarc shrugged, “I wouldn’t know, I haven’t lived through anything like this myself. My parents think it will get better, but they think it won’t ever be good. There’ll always be people saying nasty things behind our back and treating us different even though…” He realized he’d been about to try to tell Sally that Daum had killed Krait. That seemed pointless, no one seemed to believe it and there was no reason to expect that Sally would either.
“Even though what?”
Tarc shrugged, “Even though Krait and his men forced themselves on us just like they did the rest of the town. We had to cooperate with them just like everyone else, but we seem to be the only ones who are being called collaborators.”
Teleporter (a Hyllis family story #2) Page 8