Hood Read online

  Instead, he stood placidly in the room while his voice boomed out over the street—a little muffled coming back in through the window. It said, “Hello. Please call me Hood. Sheriff Farley’s retiring from his position. Deputy Lt. Borski will serve as interim Sheriff for three weeks by which time you should elect another Sheriff.”

  This caught Gloria by surprise. But then she realized that Tarc had used his projected voice to negotiate with Borski after she’d stopped listening.

  Tarc’s voice continued outside. “Your money’ll be returned to you over the next few days. During that time I’ll randomly appoint a board of ten people to run the election for Sheriff and any other offices they feel should be elective.”

  He paused for a moment, then continued, “Any money you had in Harrington’s bank when Krait arrived in Walterston is going to be distributed from Harrington’s bank this afternoon and tomorrow morning. Bring your bank book so you can prove how much money you had in Harrington’s on Krait’s arrival and any additions or withdrawals since then. If we can confirm those amounts against the bank’s records, your money’ll be returned. I’ll need Harrington’s tellers and other bank workers to come to work at the bank during this reimbursement period. They’ll be needed to confirm people’s bankbook records.”

  Gloria could see people in the street turning to stare at one another wide-eyed. Some had to be thinking they couldn’t believe it was going to be that easy. Others would be worried it was some kind of scam.

  Tarc’s voice continued, “Faith Bank will return its money starting tomorrow afternoon, and Farmers’ bank beginning noon the day after tomorrow. Once you get your money, you can re-deposit it in the bank or take it to a different bank if you want. I’d strongly recommend you keep your money in a bank. Trying to keep large sums of money in your home will invite robbery. Unfortunately, and as you suspected, all three of the town’s banks received more money back through Farley from Krait than they made available to you. In the future, each bank should be required to have a board of public citizens supervise its activities so that they’re not tempted to act in such a fashion again.”

  Tarc blinked and walked away from the window. Gloria looked out the window, listening to the crowd for a moment, then hurried after him. “Wait! They’re screaming questions at you!”

  Tarc nodded as he went down the hall, “I heard a few. I don’t know the answers to most of them. I’ve given them all the logical answers I’ve thought of, they need to figure the rest of it out for themselves.”

  “But…!”

  Tarc gave her a look, “They’re grown-ups. They wanted to govern themselves. Now they can, but they’re gonna have to figure out how to do it. If I figure it out for them, it’ll defeat the whole purpose of governing themselves. Besides,” he gave her a grin, “I have no idea how they should do it. I’m just a kid.”

  Gloria realized she’d been holding him to a standard of wisdom appropriate to someone much older.

  ~~~

  Head spinning, Gloria followed Tarc to Harrington’s bank. She kept asking him questions. He kept saying he didn’t know. Though they went directly there, by the time they arrived there were already a few citizens there, waving their bank books. Gloria realized they had to have left Farley’s place at a run, probably before Tarc even finished speaking.

  Tarc stepped back around a corner and wrapped a black bandanna around his lower face. He handed her a scarf and helped her arrange it so it covered her hair and lower face. He pulled a hood up out of his jacket and over his head.

  They advanced on the bank.

  People started backing away, after all, he looked like a robber. When he used his now familiar voice to tell them he was “Hood” they relaxed but started shouting questions.

  He just didn’t answer. He and Gloria went through the door into the bank.

  There was only one frightened-looking teller on duty. A couple of people were at his window, waving their bank books and demanding their money. Tarc spoke to them calmly, telling them to relax, form a line, and be patient.

  To Gloria’s surprise, looking sheepish, they did so.

  Tarc went to the door into the back of the bank. The teller called to them saying, “That door’s locked. It can only be unlocked from the…” He broke off as Tarc opened the door and stepped through. Gloria followed him. On the other side of the door, a startled looking man said, “Who the hell’re you?!”

  “Call me Hood,” Tarc calmly said, “Where’s the bank’s president?”

  “You can’t—” the man said, breaking off as he twisted and staggered into a wall. He fell down then rolled to his stomach, assuming a spread-eagled position. Tarc stepped over him and stopped at the next door.

  Gloria was proud because this time she already had her ghirit out. She could tell the next room had a large, heavy-walled vault in it. There were a number of people gathered around its door.

  Tarc bent in front of the door to the room and a moment later, he turned the knob and stepped in.

  A series of shrieks and exclamations holding the general tenor of “Who the hell’re you?” erupted from the people in the room. Most of them shrank away from the tall, masked and hooded apparition.

  Once again, Tarc calmly said, “Call me Hood.” He looked around and focused on an older man. “You’re the president of Harrington’s bank, right?”

  Looking frightened, the man slowly shook his head.

  Tarc said, “Oh, come on. Your picture’s hanging over the wall safe in the president’s office. You must to be the president.”

  The man stared for a moment, then turned to a uniformed guard who bore a sword, “Arrest him! He’s the one that stole the money!”

  The guard swallowed nervously but did step forward.

  Tarc said, “Don’t try it. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  The man started to draw his sword. Gloria was close enough to see the guard’s eyes twitch to the side. He seemed to kind of swirl off vertical, then fell to the floor. Like the man in the hall, he quickly rolled to his stomach and assumed a spread-eagled position. She desperately wanted to know what was happening to these men but felt sure now was not the time to interrupt Tarc by asking.

  Tarc knelt by the guard and took the man’s sword, handing it to Gloria. He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out some cord. He started tying the guard’s wrists behind his back. Meanwhile, he eyed the bank president. “I assume you’ve gathered all these good people because you can’t open your vault?”

  Lips pressed together so hard they’d blanched, the man nodded.

  Tarc said, “I’ll open it in a few minutes so you can give the bank’s depositors their money back.”

  The man paled even further, “Whose money?”

  “Your depositors. I told them to come down here with their bank books. I promised them that once you’d confirmed how much money they had in the bank, you’d give them a full refund.”

  Wide-eyed, the man shook his head more vigorously. “We don’t have enough money for that!” he said, sounding almost panicked.

  Tarc gave him a measured look, “I moved the money from your wall safe down here. With that, you should have enough.”

  He shook his head again, “No. We loan out—”

  Tarc interrupted him, “We’ve also got the money Sheriff Farley confiscated from Krait but didn’t pass on to you.”

  “You don’t understand! Banks loan out money. They don’t keep that much on deposit! That’s their business model. They earn interest on the loans they make and the income from the loans lets them pay interest to their depositors. But they’re loaning it out, they never actually keep enough cash on hand to withstand what’s called a ‘run on the bank,’ where all the depositors want their money back at the same time.”

  Tarc asked, “Really?” A little chill went down Gloria’s spine at this confirmation that Tarc really didn’t know everything.

  “Yes, you idiot! You’ve made a promise we can’t possibly keep!”

  Tarc su
ddenly stepped closer. This left him looking down on the bank president. There was menace in his tone when he said, “I’d be careful about who you’re calling an ‘idiot.’ I’m not the criminal who got a lot more money back from the Krait catastrophe than I made available to my depositors.”

  Harrington’d slowly backed away until his buttocks came up against a table. He swallowed and bobbed a nod, “Yes, sir.”

  “Now,” Tarc said, “I can tell you that there’re a lot of angry people in this town and there’re no longer any deputies to protect you from them. I’d suggest that—rather than telling me what I can’t do—you propose some solutions for this debacle.”

  “Yes, sir,” Harrington said nervously. He swallowed. “You could offer them twenty-five percent today. Tell them they can have another twenty-five percent every two weeks until they’ve got it all.”

  Tarc’s eyes narrowed, “If you don’t have the money now, how’re you going to get it over the next six weeks?”

  Harrington swallowed, “We should be able to cover their withdrawals even if almost all of them withdraw twenty-five percent today. Then, once they realize they don’t know where to keep it, a lot of them will start redepositing it. That way we’ll be able to cover those who keep withdrawing more until they’ve got all their money.”

  Tarc nodded, “Good. Now, if I unlock your vault for you, you’ll make this happen?”

  Harrington nodded. He still looked cowed, but a little less frightened.

  Tarc stepped over to the vault, beckoning Gloria to come with him. He put one hand on the dial for the combination lock and the other on the big lever that unlatched the door. Leaning his head next to hers, he whispered, “To make it so they couldn’t unlock the vault I made a tiny weld that holds the bar so it can’t fall into the trough at the top of the wheels. Can you sense it?”

  Gloria found the bar readily enough, but wasn’t quite sure what a “weld” was and didn’t really have any idea what might be out of place. She shook her head.

  He said, “I’ll heat the weld a little bit. You should be able to sense the heating with your ghirit.”

  He’ll heat it? she wondered, but a moment later a tiny spot on the side of the bar lit up to her ghirit. That spot seemed to be bridging from the bar to the metal next to it. She nodded, whispering, “I see it… I mean, I sense it.”

  He said, “I can melt it again, but it may leave a rough spot that makes the lock hard to work. I’m hoping you’ll just teleport the metal of the weld out of there.”

  “What? But it’s solid!”

  “Doesn’t seem to matter. Just like you could teleport some of that blood in Ms. Womble’s abdomen, you’ll be able to teleport some of the metal out of the lock.”

  Gloria found it hard to believe, but when she tried it the weld vanished. The rod suddenly dropped into the trough in the wheels.

  Tarc turned the big handle that unlocked the vault. He pulled the door open. “Here you go, gentlemen. I’d urge you to start getting this money out to the people it belongs to before they’re any angrier.”

  Sounding alarmed, Harrington said, “You’ll tell them they can only withdraw twenty-five percent, right?”

  Tarc nodded, “I will. In case you need it I’ll be back in a few hours with some of the money Farley’s been holding.”

  Tarc told the people in the lobby to come outside with him so he could make an announcement about how their money’d be returned. When they stepped outside they found some uncomfortable looking Sheriff’s deputies standing around. Tarc called over their senior officer and talked to him about how to have his men maintain the peace. Then, from the top of the stairs, he used a loud, commanding voice to explain why the bank wouldn’t have enough money for everyone to take out all their money that day. He calmly admitted not understanding how banks worked, but then reassured them that they could take out all their money over the next six weeks if they so desired. After explaining the rules for taking money out of the bank every two weeks, he answered a few questions. When the questions got repetitive, argumentative and accusatory, he pointed out they were getting a lot better deal than they’d expected and abruptly turned and walked away.

  There were shouts as he rounded the corner.

  Gloria heard Tarc’s voice boom out back where the crowd had been gathered, but couldn’t really understand what he said. “What’d you tell them?”

  “I told them to behave themselves,” he said grimly. He turned and she saw a little crinkle in his eyes—all she could see above the bandanna and below the hood. He said, “I might’ve reminded them of what happened to Waygin Lee,”

  “Oh…” Gloria said thoughtfully. Having all this power seems awesome, but dealing with some people’s got to be frustratingly difficult.

  They trotted around a couple of corners. Having left pursuit behind, they took off scarf, mask, and hood to become Gloria and Tarc/Tharn.

  As they went around the next corner Gloria saw Jacob Calder—who’d been Tarc’s best friend back before Krait. She glanced sideways at Tarc, remembering how he’d told her that one of the low moments in his life had been the day Jacob told him not to come around anymore unless he could prove he hadn’t been a Krait collaborator.

  Excitedly, Jacob said, “Hey Gloria!” His eyes slid to Tarc for a moment, assessing but apparently not recognizing the bigger man. They turned back to Gloria. “Some amazing things’ve been happening, huh?

  Gloria nodded uncertainly.

  Jacob shook his head, “If only this ‘Hood” guy’d been around back when Krait hit town, huh? He’d have taken out that SOB and we could’ve avoided some rough times.”

  Gloria looked at Jacob for a moment, then said, “Seems to me, the way Hood took out Waygin Lee with an arrow to the eye, same as Krait, that Hood was here back then.”

  Jacob gave her a perplexed look, “What’s he been doing in the meantime then?”

  “Maybe… Maybe he had to leave town.”

  Jacob frowned, “Why?!”

  She shrugged, “People here weren’t nice to him?”

  Jacob shook his head, “That’s just crazy! This town loves him!”

  “Yeah.” Turning, Gloria gave him a little wave, “Well, we’ve gotta go.”

  “Okay,” Jacob said. Then as if it were an afterthought, “Hey, they’re talking about a celebration day after tomorrow, wanna go together?”

  “Sorry,” Gloria called back without turning around. “I’m gonna be leaving town…” She thought, It’s nice to have another man pay attention to me in front of Tarc. Maybe it’ll keep him from taking me for granted…

  Be nice if it was someone other than Jacob though…

  Epilogue

  It was dusk as Sally walked home. As she walked, she pondered all the bewildering things that’d happened so quickly since Tarc had arrived.

  The young man had barely arrived when he’d saved John’s life.

  Sally’d realized that—as Hood—Tarc’d been responsible for changing the regime in Realth.

  He’d stopped the slaughter at Carissa Womble’s “peaceful” protest. Stopped it cold.

  Gloria claimed Tarc had saved Carissa’s life, which—in view of the sword wound Carissa’d sustained—certainly seem likely, though Gloria didn’t seem to be able to explain how Tarc had done it. Or exactly what role Gloria’d had in saving her life.

  Tarc said they’d only put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. And that he’d only been talking to Gloria about exactly how to put pressure on the blood vessels when Sally’d come upon them. That didn’t seem to jibe with what Sally remembered of what Tarc had been saying, but to be honest, she didn’t remember his words well—there’d been too much else going on.

  He’d forced Farley out of office, somehow stealing back the money Farley had appropriated from Krait’s hoard.

  Tarc had forced the banks to return, not just the money Farley’d sequestered, but the money from Krait the banks had connived to keep for themselves. Astonishingly, he’d apparently
done this by locking the banks’ vaults. Locking them so the banks couldn’t get their own money without his help! He’d subsequently suggested the banks be supervised by public boards to prevent such shenanigans in the future.

  He’d set the town on a course toward democracy by establishing an election commission of level-headed citizens—the names of whom he’d gotten from Sally.

  In the process of all this he’d proved to have an unusual skill for ventriloquism! He was far better at it than any caravan magician Sally’d ever seen, projecting his voice into mid-air at loud volumes.

  Yet when Sally’d tried to praise him for what he’d done, he’d humbly claimed that:

  He’d just used a few of the healing tricks he’d learned from his mother.

  He just happened to be good with a bow and arrow. A “modest” talent which fortunately let him abort the massacre the deputies seemed to be embarking on.

  A friend had taught him a few “little-known tricks” regarding locks that’d allowed him to bamboozle the banks.

  He felt bad about stealing from Farley, but, after all, most of it wasn’t actually Farley’s money.

  He’d heard democracy was a good thing so he’d suggested it. He felt glad that the town was working toward elections.

  He’d learned a few magician’s ruses, like the ventriloquism, while traveling with caravans.

  He’s a silver-tongued devil with depths I’ll never plumb, she thought. Hell I’ll never even get a glimpse into most of them.

  Sally stepped into the house. Gloria was in the kitchen, making dinner. Sally asked, “Where’s Tarc?”

  Gloria jerked her head at the open space between the smithy, the shop and their home. “He’s out walking Dad around the yard.”

  “Of course he is,” Sally said with a chuckle.

  “Why’s that funny?” Gloria asked.

  Sally shook her head, “He’s completely saved and is revamping this town, yet still has time to walk your dad around the yard. You don’t think that’s a little hard to believe?”