Tarc was chewing his apple and collecting money from two more men when Daussie ducked behind the bar looking furious. With red spots on her cheeks she stepped up to Tarc and said, “Mom sent me over to run the bar because she says she needs you, though what you can do that I can’t do is certainly a mystery to me!”
Rather than getting angry at Daussie, Tarc’s heart skipped a beat. Is Jacob bleeding again?! he wondered. He stepped past Daussie without saying anything to her.
When he arrived back at his mother’s side she indicated the seat beside her while still speaking, apparently calmly, to Jacob’s mother. When she finished her sentence, she turned to Tarc and said quietly but apparently unexcitedly, “A small spot has started bleeding again. I’m hoping you can stop it?”
Tarc had already sent his ghost into Jacob and found the spot oozing fresh blood by the time she spoke to him. He pressed gently on it with his ghost and it stopped. He was relieved to note that it didn’t seem to take nearly as much effort as it had taken to stop the bigger bleeding area before. Maybe because it’s smaller? I hope less pressure means less headache!
He noticed that he could feel pulsations in the blood flow in the spleen. Evidently he’d been feeling them before as well, because what he really noticed now was that the pulsations were slower. Tarc guessed that Jacob’s heart was beating slower, though he didn’t want to move his ghost away from the spleen to check that for sure. He hoped that the slower heartbeat meant that the fluids his mother had poured into Jacob had helped.
When he’d been in the kitchen with his dad, or out at the bar serving beer, he’d felt calm. Now that he was back with Jacob, he remembered again that his friend was fighting for his life. His own nervousness came back full force and he wondered at the calm way his mother was managing to talk to Jacob’s parents.
Ms. Calder asked, “But he is going to be okay, right?”
Eva stood and looked down on Jacob, putting her finger on his pulse and her other palm on his chest. She reached up a finger and pulled open his lower eyelid. “I think he will be, he’s young and strong. But I can’t say for sure, he’s lost an awful lot of blood.”
Tarc settled in to hold pressure on the small bleeding spot for an extended period of time, still pretending that all he was doing was holding the towel on the wound on the surface of Jacob’s abdomen. After a bit, his mother brought him an apple and he found that he could eat it while still holding pressure.
Tarc had been back with Jacob for about thirty minutes. People were filtering in to the tavern in the usual lunch rush which worried him because the family depended so much on this business. Eva had gone back to the kitchen. Daussie stayed behind the bar pouring beer while Daum stoked the fire, brought in wood, and carried water. Tarc felt both guilty that his dad had to do his chores, and proud that he could do something so important that his family was working around him.
This didn’t keep Daussie from glaring at him every time she had a free moment.
Once Daum had finished the heavy carrying, he went back behind the bar and Daussie began waiting tables. It appeared that Daum’s foray in the kitchen had been successful. There was little delay in bringing food out to the people when they ordered.
“Tarc,” Ms. Calder said, startling him out of his reverie, “couldn’t you do some of the cooking so your mother could come out here and take care of Jacob?”
Tarc didn’t know what to say. He certainly didn’t think that he should tell Ms. Calder that he was doing something for Jacob that no one else could. It also probably wasn’t his place to point out that Ms. Calder could probably help more in the kitchen than he could. He settled for saying, “I’m sorry, I don’t know much about cooking yet.”
It did irritate him that neither of the Calders did anything but sit there and mope. Tarc’s family was running itself ragged trying to care for Jacob and run the business they depended on for their livelihood. He felt like the Calders could have pitched in. Either of them could have tended the bar rather than bothering Eva with their endless questions.
Ms. Calder turned to her husband and spoke in a low voice that nonetheless was plenty loud for Tarc to hear. “What are we going to do? Jacob’s just lying here. No one’s doing anything for him. All they’ve done so far is to put saltwater in him! Who’s ever heard of that?!”
Mr. Calder gave a long suffering sigh, “There’s nothing we can do Linda. Everybody says Eva Hyllis is the best and we surely don’t know what to do. All we can do is trust in her skill and pray that it all turns out.”
“But Eva isn’t even here with him! Her boy is taking care of Jacob, and all he’s doing is holding a towel to Jacob’s stomach! I’m going to go talk to Eva. If she won’t stop cooking and actually take care of our boy, I’m gonna take him to a different healer!” She heaved herself up off the bench and started for the kitchen.
Calder called after her, “Which one would you take him to Linda? One of those idiots that kills chickens and sorts through their bowels?”
Tarc didn’t like it when people argued, and liked it even less when they said bad things about his family. He wanted to just get up and do his chores, since the Calders obviously didn’t want his help. However, Jacob was his friend.
He resolved to stay there and do the best he could for Jacob.
Linda Calder came out of the kitchen trailed by Eva wiping her hands on a towel. Eva leaned over Jacob, checking his eyes, feeling his chest, and pausing over him with her eyes closed—in order, Jacob felt sure, to send her ghost into Jacob’s body. After a moment she opened her eyes and said, “He’s doing about as well as we could have hoped Linda. His heart’s not beating so fast. There’s nothing more that can be done right now except to keep pressure on the bleeding to stop it. Tarc’s doing that as well or better than anyone else could.
Jacob chose that moment to moan and slowly move his head side to side. He reached a hand down towards the wound in his abdomen but Tarc deflected it.
Eva smiled, “Now that’s a good sign Linda. I’ll make him some soup. If he wakes up a little more you can spoon that into him. I know you have your doubts, but he really does need more fluid.” Eva turned to Tarc and used a commanding tone, “Tarc, you stay with him. Make sure he doesn’t move around too much and start the bleeding again!” She gave Tarc a knowing look as she got up and headed back to her kitchen.
Tarc saw the Calders’ eyes follow Eva as she walked away. Mr. Calder seemed to be practically ecstatic, but Linda looked dismayed. How can she be so ungrateful!? Tarc wondered. Jacob continued to moan and slowly move around as if uncomfortable in his sleep. Tarc held Jacob’s wound with one hand and his friend’s left hand with the other, expecting Jacob’s parents to say or do something to help calm him. When they didn’t help, Tarc finally said in a quiet tone, “Jacob, buddy, calm down. One of those strangers in town knifed you and you bled a lot. You need to hold still so you don’t start the bleeding again!”
Jacob’s eyes opened a little and seemed to roll around without really seeing anything. Then he started to reach down towards his wound with his right hand as well as his left. Tarc fended him off. Then Jacob started trying to roll up onto his side. “Jacob! Stop it or you’re going to hurt yourself.” Feeling desperate Tarc looked up to Mr. Calder and said, “Sir, I need your help. Talk to him, get him to hold still!”
Calder appeared startled by the thought that he could actually contribute, but then leaned forward and took Jacob’s hand. “Jake, Jake… Hey kid, stop thrashing around or you’re gonna hurt yourself.”
To Tarc’s complete astonishment, rather than helping, Ms. Calder got up and headed toward the kitchen, calling out, “Eva! Eva, come quick. Jacob’s about to hurt himself!”
Eva came out of the kitchen and eyed the situation. “He’s uncomfortable lying on that hard table.” She turned and looked across the room, “Daussie, take Mr. Calder and go up to the closest guestroom. Get sheets and a mattress and bring them back down here.” She turned back to Ms. Calder, “Linda, you sit d
own here with Tarc and talk to your son! Tell him what’s going on and try to calm him.” Eyeing Tarc, she went on, “you can let him roll up on his side, slowly, if that’s what he seems to want to do. Tarc, you keep pressure on the wound while he’s doing it.”
Daussie said, “Why can’t Tarc…”
Eva interrupted her, “Because I told you to go do it. I need Tarc to stay with Jacob’s wound a little longer.”
Daussie turned and headed for the stairs, practically stamping her feet. She did look back over her shoulder to make sure Mr. Calder was following her. Tarc wondered whether it wouldn’t be easier to tell Daussie about his talent. And their parents’ talents too, for that matter. Couldn’t it be possible that she already had talent too, but just didn’t know it? He supposed that she would be terribly disappointed if she didn’t have talent yet, and even more disappointed if she never showed it. Still, he wondered if he couldn’t just ask her where the sun was some night, like his father had asked him. After a moment, he realized that he didn’t know for sure that everyone with their kind of talent could tell where the sun was. It was all pretty confusing.
While Calder and Daussie were getting the mattress, Eva brought a couple of plates of food out to customers who’d ordered it. Once the mattress was ready, Eva had them put the sheet up against his back where he was lying on his side. Then she carefully urged Jacob back over onto his back so that he was now lying on top of the sheet, at least partly.
Next Eva recruited several of the men who were drinking at the bar, having them grip the sheet all around Jacob’s body and lift him up into the air so that she and Daussie could slide the mattress underneath him. During these machinations, she reminded Tarc several times to keep the pressure on Jacob’s wound. Tarc figured that she didn’t think he needed to be reminded, but that the others needed to know why Tarc wasn’t helping move Jacob.
Eva went back in the kitchen calling Linda to go with her, “I’ve got some soup you can spoon into him now.”
Walking behind her, Ms. Calder asked plaintively, “Are you sure it’s okay?”
Tarc didn’t hear what Eva said, but suspected that his mother was much more patient with Ms. Calder then he would have been. He wondered whether it would be okay to let pressure off Jacob’s spleen wounds now. He wasn’t getting as much of a headache from holding pressure on the small bleeding area as he had earlier, but still felt tired. He wanted to ask his mother, but then decided she probably didn’t really know either. After all no one had done this before. He slowly eased off the pressure, but then just sat there with his ghost checking to see if the bleeding restarted.
The clot seemed stable so Tarc sent his ghost up to check Jacob’s heart. It still beat much faster than Tarc’s heart was beating, but he was sure that it was much slower than it had been when Jacob had first come in. Tarc explored Jacob’s body, finding the parts to be much the same as his own with the exception of all the blood pooled around Jacob’s intestines. He wondered whether he could push the blood back into Jacob’s blood vessels. Maybe if I’d thought of that while the spleen was still bleeding I could’ve pushed the blood back in through the wound? It seemed too late for that strategy now, however he did try pushing the blood around in Jacob’s abdomen a little, just to see if his ghost could actually push a liquid. After all, his fingers wouldn’t have been able to move a liquid anywhere.
He could actually create flows in the blood! It seemed like his ghost didn’t really resemble a “ghost hand,” as he had been thinking of it. It could do things like generating a flow in a liquid, or heating something, which were two things that his hand couldn’t possibly do. However, his real hand was much stronger than his ghost.
Tarc checked Jacob’s spleen once more—still no bleeding. He felt relieved, but wished that Jacob would wake up. Ms. Calder sat by his head talking to him in baby words which Tarc found embarrassing for his friend.
Jacob hadn’t responded however.
The big door to the tavern opened and a couple of deputies came in looking flushed. They looked around and then came over to the table to look down at Jacob. One of them said, “Is this the boy that started the fight with the stranger?”
Tarc stared at them. Are they saying that this was Jacob’s fault?
Ms. Calder stood and said, “Jacob did not start a fight!”
The deputy stared at her, “Were you there?”
“No, but…”
The deputy cut her off, “Then I’m not asking you.” He turned and spoke to the room in general, “Anybody here that was a witness to the fight?”
Tarc felt appalled. How could they be accusing Jacob when he’d been stabbed and was fighting for his life?
One of the men at the end of the bar had turned. He put down his beer, stood, and hitching his pants, walked over towards the deputies. “I was there. What do you want to know?”
“Who started the fight? Deputy Miller is dead!” The man seemed both anguished and angry as he spoke. Tarc supposed that he and Miller had been friends. Miller had eaten at the tavern a few times, but Tarc especially remembered him from the time he had been one of the three deputies who’d come when that first huge stranger had been giving Daussie trouble.
The man who’d witnessed the incident said, “They bumped into each other in the street. Didn’t seem like a big deal, but then the boy started yelling that the guy’d taken his money. The stranger shouted he hadn’t taken any money and turned his pockets inside out to show they were empty, then he turned and continued on his way. The boy ran after him and grabbed his shoulder. When he did, the man spun around and stabbed him, then took off running towards the gate.”
Mr. Calder stood up suddenly, stepping to Jacob and reaching into his pockets one at a time. “I’d forgotten. Jacob had five silver pieces. He was supposed to be getting us some leather for the shop.” Having checked the last pocket Calder turned and said, “The money’s gone!”
The second deputy turned the first and said, “With the stranger having made his escape we can’t check that.”
“No, of course not.” The first deputy said disgustedly.
The witness stepped closer and said, “Are you trying to blame this boy? ‘Cause the most he did to start any fight was to grab a man by the shoulder that he thought had picked his pocket! If you’re gonna arrest anyone for this, it ought to be the man who knifed someone for touching him!”
The deputy puffed up angrily for a moment, then deflated. “You’re right. I’d be blamin’ that man if he were here to blame. I’m just so upset about Miller…”
From Tarc’s perspective things gradually calmed down. The deputies left and, after they’d had lunch, many of the onlookers departed as well. The afternoon lull in business came on a little slower than usual. The Calders stayed, and when Jacob woke up a little more Ms. Calder industriously spooned thick soup into him.
Jacob still looked white as could be, and his heart still beat rapidly. Eva finally said that Tarc didn’t have to sit with him all the time, but told him to stop back and check on the bleeding every ten minutes or so. Out in the kitchen, Tarc asked his mother, “How can you stand the way Ms. Calder talks to you? You were saving her son’s life, yet she was doubting you at every turn!”
Eva looked pensive, then said, “When bad things happen… people lash out. They have to be angry at someone because something horrible has happened to themselves or someone they love.” She shrugged, “Often times we, who are trying to care for them, are the most convenient people to be mad at. It’s hard, but you should try not to take it personally.”
Tarc blinked a few times as he pondered this. He could understand the reasoning, but wondered if he could keep from yelling back at someone who was being rude to him while he was trying to take care of them. His mother always seemed so unruffled… “How do you stay so calm? Jacob might die, his mother’s acting like a jerk, yet somehow you were able to talk to everyone like you were as cool as fresh well water.”
Eva gave a little snort, “My Dad taugh
t me that no matter how bad things were, the healer should stay tranquil. If the healer’s upset, everyone around them gets flustered too. That only makes things worse.”
Tarc thought about it for another minute, then said, “I can push blood from one place to another inside of Jacob. I’ve been wondering if I should have pushed some of the blood that was around his intestines back through the wound in his spleen and into his vessels?”
Eva’s eyes widened in startlement. “Oh! I never thought of that possibility!” She got a distant look on her face, then said musingly, “Probably, the liquid you can move around is only serum. The blood that’s in his abdomen will be clotting. You remember from your reading that blood is made of the red cells which carry oxygen, and plasma, the fluid that the red cells are carried in?”
Tarc nodded.
“If the proteins in plasma that are responsible for clotting blood have been used up to clot something, then the fluid that’s left is called ‘serum.’ What we would really like to put back into his veins is all the components of blood, including the red blood cells and the clotting factors. But, to do that, you need chemicals that will keep the blood from clotting, which we don’t have.” She shrugged, “But I’m pretty sure that even serum would be much better than the saline I gave him. If we ever have a patient like this again you should try pushing the liquid part of the blood back into their vessels. Don’t push anything with clots into their veins though, that could be really bad.”
Feeling overwhelmed by how much his mother knew that he didn’t, despite all the time he’d spent reading their medical books, Tarc wondered if he’d ever be able to learn it all. He said, “I’d better go check on Jacob again.”
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