Teleporter (a Hyllis family story #2) (5 page)

Arco laughed again and clapped Tarc on the shoulder. “I’d stay away from that one if I were you, youngster. She’s not only ungodly fast with that pig sticker of hers, but she’ll be happy to flay you with that sharp tongue of hers as well.” The man turned back to Lizeth, “You ready for some
real
practice now?”

Tarc found himself blushing as Arco stepped out in front of him, justifiably assuming that Tarc could not provide Lizeth a significant challenge. Even though Tarc wasn’t a guard or a sword fighter, he felt embarrassed to have been dismissed so readily. He didn’t like being called a yokel either.

While the two guards practiced, Tarc did a few of his chores out in the stable and watched them out of the corner of his eye. To his surprise, although Arco was bigger and obviously more powerful than Lizeth, she slipped around his guard and placed the point of her sword against his vitals over and over. Arco swore good-naturedly about it, but it became apparent to Tarc that Lizeth was much deadlier than the big man.

Not that Arco was slow. Tarc thought he could have defeated any of the Walterston militia that Tarc had ever watched battling it out in practice. It was just that Lizeth was so fast. Each time she did it, Tarc hardly had a notion of how she’d gotten from where she’d been, to where she was, with the point of her sword resting on Arco’s neck or ribs. Realizing he’d dawdled long enough in the stable, he headed back in to the tavern itself.

***

As Tarc came out of the kitchen into the big room, he saw that most of the merchants from the caravan must have headed to the trading area already. The big door at the front of the tavern swung open just then and Tarc’s heart skipped a beat at the thought that perhaps they had some customers from town. He recognized the man that entered as Asher Farley, one of the wealthiest merchants in town. A couple of big, tough-looking men entered behind him.

Farley’s eyes swept the room, noting three remaining caravaners sitting at one of the tables. Then Farley and his men turned to the bar where Daum was washing some cups. He walked that way.

Wondering what was going on, Tarc made his way over to the bar as well, trying to think of some chore he could do there while surreptitiously listening.

“Well, Hyllis, things are looking a little rough around here for you and yours.”

Daum’s eyes narrowed as he stood from the sink. Tarc saw him take in the two big men behind Farley and a muscle bunched in his jaw. Daum dispensed with any pleasantries and said, “What do you want Farley?”

“Well Mr. Hyllis, I’ve been appointed as acting Sheriff and these,” he hooked a thumb back over his shoulder at the two large men behind him, though he didn’t introduce them, “are two of my deputies. As such, I’m trying to head off trouble between the townsfolk, and people like you who collaborated with the invaders. I don’t want there to be any more killin’.”

Daum’s eyes flashed with fire and he said vehemently, “We did
not
collaborate with that bastard! Krait and his men
forced
their way into our tavern and demanded that we feed them. When we ran out of meat,
they
took meat from Stevenson’s butchery. You ask Arvil Tornesson,
I’m
the one that shot Krait. I did it from Tornesson’s upstairs window.”

Farley stared at Daum for a moment, then grinned like Daum had just said something very funny, “Sure you did Hyllis.” He raised an eyebrow, “From almost all the way across the square there at Tornesson’s house?” He barked a laugh, “I know you’re a good shot Hyllis, but
no one’s
going to believe that one! Besides, several people saw one of Krait’s own men shoot him, so no one’s going to fall for
that
story!” He shook his head, “No, the townspeople know you Hyllises for what you are and I think things are going to get ugly pretty soon. So far, they’re just refusing to do business with you, but trust me it can and
will
get a lot worse after what your friends did to this town.”

Daum looked like he was about to explode. “We did
not
…” he began.

Farley waved a placating hand, “It really doesn’t matter what you did or didn’t do. In the court of public opinion you’ve already been convicted. I’m just here to try to keep the peace, and being from a merchant background I’m a believer in negotiated settlements. Now I’ve been worrying that you won’t be able to leave this town to restore our peace. That’s because you won’t be able to get your money back out of your investment here in the tavern. Therefore I’m prepared to offer…”

Back in the kitchen, Tarc sagged against the wall, sick to his stomach. Farley had offered about a quarter of what Daum and Eva believed the tavern was worth. They hadn’t expected to get full value, but had thought they might get eighty percent. Farley was offering less than Daum had paid for the original building, before they’d added on the stable and kitchen as well as refurbished and remodeled the main building and put in the tubs.

And if Sheriff Farley was bidding, it seemed unlikely that anyone would bid against him…

***

At lunch in the empty tavern, the talk centered on Farley’s offer and how the Hyllises might separate themselves from the town of Walterston. Daum was still seething with anger over the gall Farley had to offer so little. “I swear to God, I’ll burn the place down before I’ll sell it to him for that price!”

Eva sighed, “That’d be like shooting yourself in the foot,” She said sadly. “Whatever money we get out of it would be better than none at all.”

Daum looked like he was chewing nails. “I’ve never liked Farley and I can’t believe the bastard angling to be sheriff! That’s reason enough right there to leave town.” He paused a moment, then said, “ You’re right that burning the tavern down does us more harm than it does Farley, but I’d rather sell it to someone else at even a lower price, than sell it to
that
son of a bitch.”

Eva stood and picked up her plate, “Well, if we’re talking about going on the road for a while, I’m going to go down to the market and see what the caravaners actually do there. We’ll need to make a living somehow and I have no idea what kind of stuff they actually sell.”

Daum’s eyes widened, “You can’t go around town by yourself! I don’t think it’s safe the way people have been acting.”

Eva shrugged, “It needs to be done. Tarc can go with me if you don’t think it’s safe.”

Tarc’s stomach turned over. He didn’t want to go out in the town himself, much less as his mother’s guardian.

Daum said “Tarc can’t protect you!”

Eva said, “If Tarc can’t protect me, who can? He’s a
lot
deadlier than you are!”

Daum stared at her for a moment, then shrugged agreement.

Tarc didn’t know whether to be proud or dismayed over being characterized as deadly.

Daussie said, “I’d like to go too. I’ve been thinking that maybe instead of selling things, we could try to sell treatment? We’re healers after all.”

Eva and Daum both looked at Daussie with surprise. Tarc wasn’t sure whether it was surprise that she was willing to go out into the hostile environment of the town, or surprise over her idea. Eva slowly said, “People go to healers… based on word-of-mouth. It’s hard for me to imagine… that people would go to see a healer in a market like you’re talking about.”

Daussie shrugged, “I’ll bet that in some places, where they don’t have good healers, people will be desperate. I think they’ll come see us.” She tilted her head, “Besides, after we’ve made a few circuits with the caravan, people will have heard what we can do, so there
will
be word-of-mouth.”

Shortly after that, Tarc found himself uncomfortably walking down the road behind Eva and Daussie. Daum had still been unhappy about them leaving, but no one thought they should
all
go thus leaving the tavern unprotected. It did seem pretty obvious they should try to understand the caravan life a little better before they joined one.

Tarc found it even more difficult to watch the townsfolk staring at them as they walked toward the market. It had been bad enough when they were staring at him alone, but having them stare at his mother and sister felt much worse. He feared that at any moment someone would say something rude. He didn’t really expect anyone to attack them physically or do something that truly required Tarc to defend their little party. However, if they were physically attacked, at least he would know what to do. If someone started calling them names, he had no idea how he would respond. As he walked along, he wondered whether there was something he could do with his talent that would distract such a person.

Despite a lot of ugly looks, the three of them made it to the market without being molested. For some reason, Tarc had thought that once they were actually at the market, wandering amongst the caravaner’s stalls, that the townspeople would no longer be a problem. Unfortunately, there were plenty of townspeople there as well, looking at the caravaners’ offerings. They were crowded together enough, that now Tarc could not only feel their stares, but could hear some of their whispers. While wondering if one of the townspeople might do something so ugly he would feel the necessity to respond he suddenly thought,
What if I used my talent to push on something inside of them?

Tarc could hardly spare any attention for observing the caravaners and their practices. Everything he had was focused on the townspeople around him and his mother and sister. Wondering whether someone might actually attack them and whether the women heard what the people were saying about them kept him stretched taut. Eva and Daussie acted as if they were oblivious to what was being said, but their tense spines and the way they looked rigidly straight ahead eventually made him realize that they knew
exactly
what was going on behind their backs.

At one point on their single pass through the marketplace, Tarc saw Lizeth off to one side, studying them. Actually he got the feeling that her hooded eyes were mostly on the people around the Hyllises.

Compared to two other times his mother and sister had gone shopping together, they were headed back to the tavern pretty quickly. Once back, they fell to preparing dinner for the caravaners.

***

That evening, while Tarc was keeping everything stocked up and Eva and Daussie were feeding the caravaners, Daum stayed behind the bar serving beer to those caravaners still waiting for a table. It seemed like all of them were eating there at the tavern, which made him grateful. After all, they could have gone somewhere else for their dinner or cooked it themselves. During a little lull in the beer pouring, Norton called him down to one end of the bar where he stood alone.

Speaking quietly, Norton said, “I must say, things out there in the town really are pretty ugly towards you and your family. If I didn’t know you better I’d be regretting staying at your place this trip. Even claiming all innocence I’m getting a lot of pressure from the townspeople to move to another establishment.”

Daum tried to suppress his anger, saying, “If you feel you have to move, I can’t stop you.”

Norton raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Oh, I’m not moving. No one else in the caravan is thinking about moving either. I’m just letting you know how things are out there, because I’m pretty sure your sources of gossip have dried up.”

Daum consciously relaxed his jaw. “Thank you. I know you mean well, but it is hard to hear about...” he waved a hand encompassing all their problems.

Norton grinned, “Yeah, however, I think I’ve got a little good news for you.”

Thinking that whatever good news Norton had, it would be buried in the tidal wave of bad news his family had been suffering, nonetheless Daum asked, “What’s that?”

“The Watsons. They’ve been traveling with the caravan for about ten years now. I didn’t know it but apparently they’re looking to settle down somewhere. They heard of your situation and they might be interested in buying the tavern from you.” He lifted an eyebrow, “Of course, if they did that, they’d also need to sell their wagon and its trailer…”

Daum lifted his head, suddenly interested. “That could be perfect!” He paused, suddenly struck with concern, “Do they have any money saved up? The tavern is worth a lot more than a wagon and trailer.”

Norton shrugged, “Now there you’ve got me. Caravaners don’t often share their financial situation with one another. We depend on each other for protection, but going around in each other’s back pockets like we do, you don’t really want
anyone
knowing if you have a lot of surplus cash.” He glanced back over his shoulder, “Watson asked me to talk to you, but it seems to me we’re at the point in this discussion where you and he should start talking directly?”

Daum nodded, “Sure. But before you call him over, would you mind giving me some idea what a wagon is worth?”

The two men talked a little longer, Daum bemused to find that a nice large wagon like Watson owned was worth only a little less than the lowball bid Farley had made for the tavern. If they had to take that offer, and then buy their own wagon, they’d really have gained little from all their years in the tavern.