The Story of Samo: Chapter Three, Part Six
Soon after he had called for help, city guards came running into the building. Tarat groaned when he looked up and saw Torin glaring at him. He said, “Well, Torin, come to cause me more trouble?”
“It looks like you’re causing enough trouble for yourself,” Torin snapped. “You’re under arrest for murder.”
Tarat set his feet under his body and stood, rising to his full height and stepping toward the shorter man. He growled, “Shut up, you twit! That man-” He pointed at the dead attacker. “Attacked me! Professor Lasci,” he said, stepping toward Torin again, even more menacingly. “Could be anywhere in this room, dying at this moment. Can’t you hear his sounds of pain, or do your mutton chops block your ears and make you deaf?” As Torin began to protest, Tarat grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall. He was in no mood for this garbage. “Listen for it!”
An officer behind him said, “I hear it.” Tarat looked at the man, an older detective who had come in during the argument. “It’s coming from a closet. Let Torin go.” As Tarat obeyed the order, Torin pushed him away, but was stopped by the detective grabbing him by the collar. He to the younger officer, “Get out of here and leave us alone.” After pushing him out the door, he walked to the wall lined with closets, he began opening them, ending at the one in the corner. When he opened it, Professor Lasci fell out. He was bloodied and bruised, and his skin, where dark bruises were not already forming, was pale. The detective knelt down and felt his chest. He said, “We need to get him to a hospital. He’s alive, but only barely. Can you carry him?”
Tarat nodded. Who was this man? He had never seen him before at the guardhouse. As the detective eased Lasci into Tarat’s arms, and set the man’s head on his shoulder, he said, “There, now we can get him some proper help.” He walked close beside as they left the building. Torin, who was leaning against the door post his arms crossed, stepped toward them, but stopped when the detective put his hand up. It seemed to Tarat that the man had been physically stopped, or had run into a wall. He obviously wanted to come up to them, perhaps even to stop them, but simply stood there, glaring at both men as they walked out. Tarat turned to the detective, who merely smiled and waved his hand at Torin. He wanted to ask who the man was, but was unsure if that would be wise at this point, or ever.
As a matter of fact, he did not need to ask. The detective answered his question as if he read Tarat’s mind, which would have been a very good skill for a detective. He said, “My name is Giesa su’Nares. I’m with the city guard, but don’t get out much. Who are you?”
“Tarat su’Aren, sir.” Tarat plodded on in silence for a time before getting the courage to ask a question. However, he was cut off by Giesa pointing to a large building nearby and said, “There, we’ll take him there and have the doctors fix him up.” When Tarat walked into the building, a few nurses looked at him and gasped. One younger nurse ran out of the room, presumably to find a doctor, as the rest ran to him. Tarat’s suspicion was confirmed when a man in a leather apron followed the nurse in just as Lasci was taken from his arms. He said, “He’s been attacked and badly injured. You need to do your best to save him. If that’s not enough, do better than that.”
The doctor nodded and led the procession of nurses into an operating room nearby. The detective put a firm grip on Tarat’s shoulder and said, “We need to go now.” Tarat looked at the man and said, “But, the professor-”
“Will be fine,” Giesa finished for him. “I have a few questions to ask you about what happened.” After he led Tarat outside and got him to explain the facts of what happened, he said, “What was the message you were meant to give the professor?”
“I was told to tell him, ‘He’s coming,’ and that he’d understand,” Tarat answered. “Wait, no, it was ‘He’s back.’”
Giesa swore, then said, “Excuse me, I shouldn’t do that. Thank you, officer. I’ll make sure he gets it when he wakes up.”
“If you don’t mind, detective,” Tarat said. “I’d like to tell him myself, even if you do first.”
“Peace of mind?”
Tarat nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Nodding, Giesa replied, “Very good. You seem to be a good officer, Mr. su’Aren. Go back and report to your captain. I’ll have someone let you know when the professor wakes up.” Tarat nodded and gave a cursory salute before walking away. Even if Detective Giesa was telling the truth in his promise to give the message, he still wanted to know what was going on.
