Tarvin

by Richard Young

  ***

  I don't even know what place she took me to. But it had a high wall, and only a single gate with two guards. It looked like a mansion or something. We crouched in the shadows across from the wall while she explained her plan.

  "Okay," she said. "You want to know if you can trust me? We're going to climb that wall, look around for a bit, and then get back out without the guards noticing."

  "Um."

  "What? It'll be fun."

  "You're serious? We're breaking into some guy's house? For fun?"

  "Not his house, just the garden. You should see it in there. It's beautiful. Very... romantic."

  That got my attention. With the influence of the booze behind it, that phrase could get me jumping off bridges.

  "All right," I said.

  "Great! Now, we're going to have to work together to get over that wall. You lift me first, and I'll pull you up, okay?"

  "And the same on the way out?"

  She smiled. "Now you understand. Do you trust me?"

  I nodded, and she grabbed my hand. We sprinted across the narrow path to the wall. I crouched to one knee and threaded my fingers together. As if we'd been doing it for years, Pellia stepped on my hands and I vaulted her into the air and onto the wall. I was surprised at how light she was.

  She scrambled around on top of the wall for a moment, then lowered her hand. I could barely reach, even jumping, and it took three tries to finally get a good hold. I was half afraid I'd pull her down, but she heaved, I climbed, and within seconds we were both sitting on top of the wall.

  Pellia grinned at me, and I couldn't help but return it. "Come on," she said, jumping down to the ground and landing lightly.

  I, on the other hand, crashed to the ground like a sack of bricks, stumbled as I hit, and fell into a small bush. Pellia nearly broke out in laughter, and I grinned sheepishly as I extracted myself from the bush. Both of our expressions turned to fear as a shout reached us.

  "Who's there?"

  In a panic, I quickly went to one knee and stretched my hands out for Pellia. As she reached the top of the wall, I caught a glimpse of torchlight coming closer. I looked back up at the wall for Pellia's hand, but instead only saw her face, twisted in fear.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered. Her face disappeared, and a moment later I heard the scrape of shoes on the stone path on the far side of the wall. She was gone. I was trapped.

  I spun around to seek out the light that was searching for me. It was no more than ten feet away, behind a thin veil of bush. I froze. Maybe if I stayed still enough, it would pass me by.

  Luck wasn't with me. The light paused directly across from where I hid, and a second later a hand thrust its way through the bush in front of my face. I squeaked and threw myself backwards against the wall.

  There was no place to run. There was no point to running. What could I do? The wall encircled the manor and the gate was too well guarded. I had nowhere to go. Slumping against the wall, I resigned myself to my fate.

  A man pushed his way through the bush in front of me and paused. His torch passed back and forth in front of my face, as though he expected to find my accomplices hiding in the cracks in the wall. I blinked in the light. His eyes caught the bush I had flattened in my fall, then traveled up the wall as a stony expression took over his face. I gathered my courage to plead with him to let me go, tell him that I hadn't done anything wrong. But as I opened my mouth to speak, he growled under his breath.

  "Damn kids."

  I stood with my mouth open as he pushed his way back through the bush. He made his way back to his post and I watched the light fade.

  What had just happened?

  Did he expect me to follow him? He hadn't even acknowledged me. Was he bloody blind? What was going on?

  Curiosity overcame fear, and I crept out from behind the bushes, coming out onto a path that led through the garden. Pellia had been right. It was certainly beautiful, lit up with soft torch light and glowing plant life. Must have been expensive to have those imported from Ganyan. On impulse, I plucked a flower off one of the glowing plants, making sure to preserve a length of stem as well. If I could manage to make it flourish, it would sell for a small fortune.

  I tucked the flower carefully into a pocket inside my jacket, where the glow wouldn't give me away. I still had no idea how I was going to escape, but at least now I had something to show for the experience. As I followed the path, terrified out of my mind, I eventually realized something wasn't right.

  My feet weren't making any noise on the ground.

  As a test, I scraped my foot against the gravel. No sound reached my ear. Even stranger, the gravel didn't even move. It was as though the path was covered with a thin, invisible barrier that prevented being disturbed.

  The crunch of gravel behind me drove the thoughts out of my mind. Caught up as I was in my fear, I didn't even realize that I shouldn't have been able to hear anyone coming if the path didn't make any noise.

  I took off down the path, my silent feet flying over the gravel. I skidded to a stop as I found myself in front of the gate. It stood wide open, but flanked with guards, which would make sneaking out impossible, even if I made no noise.

  My ears caught the footsteps behind me again, forcing me into action. I could continue around the path, which appeared to circle the manor, and hope that I wasn't discovered until... what? I couldn't expect a daring rescue, and I had no reason to believe the guards would ever relax. Or I could make a mad dash for the gate and hope I could slip through without being caught.

  Not much of a choice. I took a deep breath, set my feet against the immovable gravel, and made my desperate attempt at escape.

  The gate was no more than fifty feet away, and it took less than three seconds to reach the first set of guards. I didn't pause to see if they noticed me. I tore through the gate and down the gentle incline that led back into town. Only when I paused for breath in the shelter of the shadows did I realize that not a single guard had come after me, or even raised a shout.

  I suppose I should have given more thought to it, but to be honest, I had other things on my mind. Namely, Pellia. More specifically, how she had abandoned me. I won't lie - it hurt. But as I thought about it, I realized that she had panicked and made a bad decision. Would I have done any different? Besides, it had all worked out in the end. By the time I had reached my front door, I had forgiven her.

  I eased the door open, expecting everyone else to be asleep - or passed out, more likely. Unfortunately, those expectations were shattered when a hand grabbed me by the front of my shirt and pulled my inside.

  The stench of alcohol hit me in the face as my father lifted me off the floor.

  "What the hell do you think you were doing?" he shouted.

  I prepared a lie - partially to protect me, but mostly to protect Pellia. It was stupid, maybe, after what she had done to me, but I didn't hesitate about it. "I was-"

  "I knew she was too good for you," he interrupted.

  "Pellia? Why? Where is she?"

  "She came here to pick up her books, crying about how you wouldn't help her unless she did something for you. I'm disgusted, boy. A nice girl like that, and you get her drunk and treat her like a whore."

  "What?" At some point during his tirade, my fragile forgiveness of Pellia shattered. I suddenly had no inclination to protect her. "No, that's not what happened at all. Pellia - it was her idea!"

  "You're a damn liar," my father said, setting me back down on the floor. "And I think you need to be taught a lesson about how to treat women."

  The first hit was always the worst. It was usually to the face, and no matter how prepared I thought I was, it always managed to catch me off guard. Depending on his aim - which in turn depended on his blood alcohol level - it would either land relatively harmlessly on a cheek or chin, or somewhere more damaging, usually a nose.

  This time his fist caught me straight in the face, and the crunch told me my nose had broken. I stumbled backwards,
eyes watering, and clutched at my face. I knew better than to try to defend myself. It just made it worse.

  The truly frightening part of the whole ordeal was how calm my father remained. It was as though he was beating a rug hanging on a line. There was no anger, no rage, no pity or remorse. It was just something he felt he had to do. He was like a Ratan, mindless. When it was over all he said was "Get your ass over to the Healer's." As though he hadn't just broken my nose and cracked a rib, among the other bruises.

  The Healer in question was very familiar with our family. He was one of my father's friends, and he completely approved of my father's methods of discipline. He only lived a couple of houses down, so I took the back alley. Taking the front street would only have invited more beatings.

  Despite the hour, the door to the Healer's house opened on the second knock. The man didn't say anything, didn't bring me inside or offer me a room in his clinic. No, he just took one look at me and laid his hand on my head, right there in the doorway. Moments later, I walked away with a terrible itching in my nose and a growling in my stomach, but otherwise as good as new.

  Well, my body was Healed, anyway. My mind, on the other hand, was shattered.

  I had trusted her! For a brief time, I had known the elation of being able to believe that there was somebody who would watch out for me. In an even shorter time, I had found out that it was no more than a dream. And because I had flown so high on the winds of that dream, the fall was that much more violent, splattering my mind against the cobblestones.

  Never again would I make that mistake.

  That night, after I returned home, I gathered my things, filched some food, and turned my back on the house that had held nothing but years of torment. I had no plan in mind, other than to simply escape.