Book I of III: The Swords of the Sultan (17 page)

Humonus interjected, “And, if I hadn’t
rescued this particular princess, Thorium would have fallen under
the rule of Mauritia and Pavelus might have been the very next to
fall, as we do a majority of our trade and commerce with them.

“That is why I was called to this top-top
secret task—that and I had already learned quite a few of the
secrets of Mauritia’s thieves’ guild from that old friend of mine,
whom shall remain nameless—the rest I figured out on my own.”

“One last question, sir,” Baltor said. “Why
would Mauritia’s thieves’ guild want to kidnap the princess in the
first place, and not Emperor Vaspan himself?”

With a very impressed tone in his voice,
Humonus answered, “Good question! Even though this man covets the
wealth and lands of both the Kingdom of Thorium and the Sharia
Empire, he’s not stupid enough to do the act himself! After all, he
has not the men or the supplies to do a two-faced war—literally!
So, he paid the Chief of Mauritia’s thieves’ guild two million
parsecs to kidnap the princess!”

Baltor breathed a sigh of astonishment.

Humonus added with his index finger pointed
up, “That is just but one reason that I stress the importance of
education.”

Bayema extended her hand to Baltor, and once
she had clasped it, she said, “Well, I have some errands to attend
to. Great job on your test, and God’s luck be with you for your
future!”

“Thank you, my Mistress!”

Bayema then departed.

Lydia said with a warm smile, “Baltor, you
have impressed me to no end. I know that you will go far in the
Guild and make me proud!”

She then embraced Baltor with another tight
hug.

Baltor felt his cheeks slightly burn, his
heart flutter, and the words that he spoke came out stuttered as he
said, “Tha-thank you very much, my Mistress!”

Lydia released the embrace and then she
departed. A few moments later, only Humonus and Baltor remained in
the huge chamber.

“Sir, I shall make you proud. You have been
an excellent drill instructor, and for that, I shall always be in
your debt.”

“You are very welcome, Baltor, but you may
now call me by my name, as I am no longer your instructor. The only
time I insist you use my title is when I’m with another student, or
any other members of the Guild. Before I take you to the Hall of
Education, let’s first get you cleaned up at the bathhouse, and
then go eat some grub. Okay?”

Baltor looked himself up and down and said
with a smile, “Good idea, sir.”

Before the two had climbed up the ladder that
led into the fountain room, Humonus first showed Baltor the secret
latch. He then ordered, “Ensure that you do not tell anyone where
this latch is, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

Humonus next led him to the bathhouse, which
happened to be currently empty. “There are some soap and towels on
the shelf over there. While you take your bath, I have some things
I need to get in my room, but I’ll be back. Also, the medic told me
to tell you not to get your bandages wet.” He then left.

Baltor bathed and kept his bandages dry. By
the time that he wrapped a towel around his waist, he saw that
Humonus had just returned. His right hand held a pair of black
boots. His left hand not only clasped some underwear and socks, yet
a couple of metal hangers with some clothes hanging on them.

Humonus sang, “I purchased some brand-new
clothes for you to wear!”

“Really? Thank you very much, sir!”

“No problem—I hope you like them.” Humonus
said as he handed over everything but the socks and boots, turned
around, and waited for Baltor to put them on.

The t-shirt was blue and the pants were
black—Baltor found that everything fit perfectly. Once fully
dressed, he asked, “What do you think?”

Humonus turned back around, gave the up-down
look for a few seconds, and said, “Nice! Now put these on.” He
proceeded to hand over the socks, as well the boots.

Baltor slid on the socks and then the black,
knee-high boots that also fit perfectly.

“One more thing,” Humonus said as he pulled a
comb out of his pocket and handed it over, “there’s a mirror over
there, so you can comb your hair.”

Baltor nodded, took the comb, walked over to
the mirror, and combed his hair that reached halfway down his back,
until it was nice and neat—this process took him about fifteen
minutes, since he hadn’t combed his hair in ages.

As he looked into the mirror, besides seeing
himself, he also saw that Humonus now held a small golden ring in
between his right index and middle finger.

Humonus informed, “With this, you can secure
that hair of yours so it doesn’t fly all around.”

While turning around, Baltor asked in shock,
“Is that real gold?”

Humonus smiled, and said, “Yes, it is. You
earned it.”

Baltor took the ring, pulled his hair
together until it was tight, pushed it through the ring, and then
pulled up the ring until it grew snug in his hair.

After Humonus had turned Baltor around by the
shoulders until facing the mirror, and giving the boy a chance to
admire himself, he concluded with a sigh, “Well. The time has come
for us to head to the chow hall. You look great!”

“Yes, sir! I mean, Humonus.”

After giving an understanding smile, Humonus
next led Baltor to the fancy restaurant they had eaten during his
trial, where they ate an incredibly delicious lunch.

While they were eating, quite a few of the
other Guild members threw friendly smiles or waves at Baltor—he
smiled or waved back.

Once done with lunch, they headed to the Hall
of Education. Nearly five minutes later, they arrived.

Baltor realized that this “hall” wasn’t a
hall at all, yet a massive library containing thousands upon
thousands of books and scroll cases, all of which were
systematically stored upon sturdy oak racks spanning from floor to
ceiling throughout this room that was bigger than any other room he
had ever seen before.

Nearly a minute later, they came to stand
before an old woman, who was sitting behind an oak desk that
contained only three objects sitting upon the top.

One, a logbook bearing Baltor’s name: two and
three, a quill lying in a small bottle of black ink.

After gesturing to the woman with his left
hand, Humonus informed, “Madame-Librarian Sharice will help you
select your classes. As for me, I must get going. I’ve got ‘a hot
date’ in an hour I got to get ready for.”

“Sounds fun!”

“Oh,” Humonus replied with a smile, “I’m sure
it will be. Well good luck to you, Baltor!”

Baltor clasped Humonus’s extended hand with
his own, while jubilantly saying, “Thank you so very much for
everything, Humonus.”

After one last departing smile, Humonus
released Baltor’s hand, and he departed.

Baltor turned around, and asked, “So, Madame
Sharice, what classes can I take?”

After listening to a very long list of
introductory courses, which list took Sharice nearly five minutes
to recite, he spent quite a few minutes to consider all his
options—one course Baltor silently promised to himself that he
would take very soon was archery, once his arm was fully
healed.

Meanwhile, Sharice opened up his logbook to
the first blank page, which was twenty-five pages after the
beginning page; once so, she picked up the quill in her right hand,
patiently waiting while Baltor inwardly deliberated.

Once ready, nearly a minute later, he said,
“I wish to take the Pavelian language course, basic math, history,
and unlocking doors and safes. That’s it for now.”

While writing his selections and weekly
schedule down, she informed, “School for you begins tomorrow
morning—do not be tardy to a single class, or it will count against
you as a strike. Three strikes and you’ll be expelled from that
course. One unexcused absence and you’re instantly expelled. Though
all classes are one hour in length and conducted six days a week,
the days and times will differ because of your other classes. Now,
do you know where you’re going to be residing?”

“Umm,” Baltor said, “I’ve decided to stay in
the bunkhouse until I can afford my own place.”

“Okay, no problem,” Sharice said. “You may
stay in the advanced students’ bunkhouse as long as you wish, as
most students do until they make some money, but there are five
rules that you must never break.

“One, you are allowed to leave the property
whenever you’re not in school, but never use the palace
entrances—use the tunnels below. We’ll even give you a fake ID, in
case you ever have a run-in with city guards.

“Two, do not go to your former bunkhouse
anymore.

“Three, do not chat with any other advanced
students in your new bunkhouse, even if you become friends with
another advanced student. Outside the barracks is fine.

“Four, if any beginning student tries to chat
with you, do not say a word but right away walk away, for there are
twenty-four-hour monitors observing and recording everything.

“And rule number five; you are allowed to
associate yourself with advanced students when you and they are not
in class, but do not bother the instructors when they are with
their students, beginning or advanced. Violation of any rule bears
the minimum punishment of a whipping, or the maximum punishment of
death, which punishment will be strictly enforced by the High
Council! Any questions?”

Baltor replied, “No, ma’am.”

“Good,” Sharice answered with a smile. “Once
our meeting is adjourned, I am going to have one of my many
assistants show you how to avoid the booby-traps on your way to
your new bunkhouse. Never disarm those traps, even when you learn
how. And finally, for the next week, an assistant will retrieve you
from your bunkhouse at six-thirty in the morning, escort you to
your classes throughout the day, and take you back to the bunkhouse
after your final class. Any questions for me?”

“No, ma’am,” Baltor answered.

“Have a nice day,” Sharice chimed aloud.

She immediately pulled a bell out of her desk
drawer, and rang it six times: Twenty seconds later, an
average-looking/seventeen-year-old girl arrived.

Baltor didn’t know who she was, but he did
see that she carried an unlit lamp in her right hand, and so he
assumed she was his escort.

Sharice confirmed, “Take this young man to
the advanced students’ barracks, please.”

The girl replied, “Yes, Madame Sharice.
Follow me, boy.”

“Thanks,” Baltor said to Sharice, just before
he followed behind the girl.

On the way there, which trip was without any
conversation whatsoever, he silently decided that after he had
finished all his classes each day, he would continue to train in
the obstacle courses, just to keep up his physique—that is, after
the two-week period to heal up until he got the stitches removed.
Today he would take the day off, other than settling in. He also
decided that he would firmly ignore everyone, except for
instructors, medics, masters and mistresses.

It was shortly after making this decision
that they entered back into the training cavern, about forty-five
minutes later. She next headed for the second dark tunnel to the
right, and once inside, the girl made a right-hand turn at the
first bend in the tunnel a hundred feet away, turned on her lamp,
and turned around.

Once Baltor had arrived at her location, only
a second later, she said indifferently, “As you will come to learn
about this particular tunnel, there are seven natural pitfalls and
four booby traps. All of them are lethal. For the most part, you
will only need to stay on the right side of the tunnel. Only twice
will you have to move your way to the left side. Memorize exactly
where everything’s at, because you are not allowed to carry torches
or any other forms of light.”

“Okay.”

Baltor followed, observing where the pitfalls
and traps were, and how to avoid them, by counting his
footsteps.

Once they had arrived at their destination,
about fifteen minutes later, the girl turned off her lamp, and left
without a word spoken. He did not speak back to her either.

Baltor saw that this new barracks looked
similar to his old barracks, but there were footlockers and/or wall
lockers posted next to just about every bunk—thirty of them. Most
of the beds were neatly made up with nice sheets, blankets and
pillows. The remaining few had a green blanket that had been rolled
up and placed at the head of the bed. Sitting on top of the roll
was a thick, white pillow.

While eating some dinner that had been
sitting in covered wooden bowls on the table, which dinner was a
large turkey leg, some spicy mashed potatoes and some unknown type
of cooked, green vegetable, he chose a bunk that sat in the middle
of the room. After all, all the corner bunks were picked.

Following dinner, he made his way for his
bunk, unrolled the blanket, hopped into bed, and lay his head down
on the pillow.

While lying there and staring up at the
ceiling trying to get tired enough so he could go to sleep, he
decided to stay in the bunkhouse until he could earn some honest
money and afford his own place. True he was technically learning
how to become a master thief, but in secret, he wanted to think of
himself as “an adventurer.” Perhaps one day, he might even become
“Drill Instructor Baltor!”

It was upon thinking these last thoughts that
he passed out.

The next morning, as Sharice had promised, an
elderly man politely woke Baltor from sleep, stated that he was the
assistant, waited for Baltor to eat breakfast, and then escorted
him to all his daily classes. While the classes went on, that day
and for the next week, the assistant took care of other daily
duties he had on his list.

Ten school days later, after Baltor’s final
class of adding/subtracting had finished, he entered the training
area. Surprise hit him upon discovering that Humonus had a
brand-new student—this time a girl.