Book I of III: The Swords of the Sultan (4 page)

After arriving and bowing to the lady, the
six-foot-tall man asked, “Yes, my Mistress, how may I be of
service?”

“Good Sir, are you currently training any
students?”

Humonus answered, “To answer your question,
nope. My last student Shami passed his final exam yesterday, though
not without a scratch. Were you not able to attend, Mistress
Lydia?”

“No, I just arrived back in Pavelus this
morning from a month’s long vacation—what do you mean not without a
scratch?”

After sucking a deep breath through his
mouth, Humonus explained, “Well…on the seventh and final obstacle
course, Shami paused a nanosecond too long and one of our archers
smacked an arrow into his right buttock!
Ouch!
”

Both he and Lydia began to chuckle with quite
a bit of amusement at that, which drew the boy’s attention back to
them.

Once the man’s laughter had dissipated, but a
few seconds later, he added with a whole lot of pride, “But
seriously. I am so very proud of Shami, especially the way that he
determinedly maneuvered himself through that final obstacle, to the
finish line, and won!”

Humonus couldn’t help but chuckle again,
before he concluded, “Still, it’ll probably be a month or two
before he is able to sit down…and his new teachers will allow him
to ‘sit in’ on their classes! Get the pun?” No longer able to
contain himself, he laughed very hard while slapping himself on the
knee.

Lydia laughed along for a few more moments,
too. Even though Baltor had been listening, he hadn’t been amused,
nor did he join in the laughter.

As soon as she glanced back at the boy and
his serious look, she stopped laughing. “Well, I’ll be sure to
congratulate Shami later on today. Now, I have a couple of related
questions for you. Are you going to take a vacation or something,
or are you all ready to take on another student?” With a point of
her thumb, she introduced, “This is Baltor.”

Humonus looked over to the boy for the very
first time, and after only a few seconds of baleful study, he
replied with a sneer, “This boy doesn’t look like a thief. In fact,
he looks like a coward that would turn yellow and run at the first
sign of danger!”

Baltor, who was quite aware that
he
was the boy Humonus was talking about, defended aloud, “That’s not
true! You have no idea who I am or what I’m capab—”

“Well,” Humonus interrupted, “that remains to
be seen, or better yet—not seen! Follow me, boy.” Right away, he
turned around and proceeded toward one of the tunnels located at
the far-left side of the cavern.

Baltor followed Humonus into a straight and
narrow tunnel—every seventy feet was a blazing torch fastened to
the wall.

Twice, Humonus came across forking tunnels
and both times, he took the left tunnel, until finally, halfway
through this third tunnel, again on the left side, there was a lit
alcove.

Sitting on the floor inside was a beautiful
wooden desk, and resting upon that, two small oil lamps burned.
Behind the desk sat a matching wood chair with a plush black pillow
on the seat.

Humonus walked around the desk, took a seat,
pulled open a drawer, took out a sheet of paper, closed the drawer,
set the paper on the desk, looked the boy directly in the eyes, and
asked, “Do you know how to read and write?”

Baltor answered, “No.”

“Well,” Humonus replied, “you’ll learn soon
enough. In the meantime, what I’m about to do is to read this
contract for you. When I tell you to repeat something after me, you
will be swearing to it. When I’ve gotten through the entire
contract, you can just put an X at the bottom, signifying your
name. Any questions for me, boy?”

“No.”

“Good, now raise your right hand and repeat
after me,” Humonus ordered. He next picked up the contract and read
aloud, “I, state your name…”

“I, Baltor,” he began, raising his right
hand. “Do solemnly swear…”

Baltor repeated.

“Never to reveal the secret location of this
thieves’ guild…”

Baltor repeated.

“Nor to reveal the secrets of this thieves’
guild that are about to be taught to me…”

Baltor repeated.

“Nor will I reveal any of the members of this
thieves’ guild under any circumstances—ever!” Baltor repeated.

“And if I even begin to think of betraying
this solemn oath, I swear that I will first acquire a dagger, cut
my own eyes out, then my tongue, then each of my fingers and
thumbs, and finally, plunge that dagger into my heart with my
feet.” Humonus finished reading.

The boy got about a quarter of the way
through before he forgot the rest, and so his eyes began to squint,
which was his “thinking look.” Humonus was on the ball, and
assisted him where he had left off.

Once done, he turned the piece of paper
around, handed a feather pen to the boy, and said, “Now, sign
here.” He signed with an X.

“Good—I am now officially your drill
instructor.” Humonus extended his hand, which the boy immediately
shook.

Before the drill instructor let go, he
promised, “One more thing—if you do happen to violate your oath, it
would be better for you to do all that you have sworn to, than for
us to take the matter into our own hands. Now you begin basic
training….follow me.”

Humonus left the alcove and led the way back
down the tunnels, while the boy followed.

During this trip, the drill instructor began
to teach, “Our Guild has been in existence for a little less than
five centuries—not too long after this city had been conquered by
the empire. Yeah, it’s true that we have had members caught,
tortured, tried, hanged or worse—but none has ever stupidly
revealed the location of our headquarters or our members, yet why
should they want to? After all, they remember that we have always
taken great care of them, and it was solely by their own stupidity
and/or clumsiness that they got caught. But now, onto more pressing
matters.”

At that moment, the two had entered back into
the main cavern—he continued, “One of the first things that we
shall do for you is to build up your strength, dexterity and
endurance through intense physical exercises and challenges. Later,
once you pass the basic tests, you will then learn how to use a
broad selection of weapons, and of course be tested. Once you pass
all of these physical tests, you will learn how to read and write,
even foreign languages, and you will also learn etiquette, manners
and customs…”

After a short pause, the drill instructor
concluded his spiel, “In time, should you pass all of the tests,
you will know how to bust into any lock or door, how to talk or
fight your way out of any situation, and ultimately, you will know
how to blend in anywhere…as a master thief! Do you understand?”

With quite a bit of enthusiasm, the boy
answered, “Yes!”

With just as much anger, the drill instructor
snapped, “Oh—from here on out, worm, you will only address me as
‘sir.’ Do you understand?”

No longer sounding excited at all, especially
because of the insult, the boy replied, “Yes, sir.”

The expression on Humonus’s face contorted
even more furiously as he screamed out, “I can’t hear
you—worm!”

“Yes—sir!”

Still bearing an angry expression with arms
defensively crossed, Humonus stated in a gruff tone of voice,
“Good… Now, drop and give me twenty.”

The boy looked very confused as he asked,
“Twenty what, sir?”

The drill instructor growled, “Twenty
pushups, you knucklehead!”

“Sir, what are pushups?”

After giving a very disgruntled sigh, he
explained how to do a proper pushup—upon having done ten, he stood
back up and yelled, “Now drop and give me twenty pushups!”

The boy dropped to the ground into the pushup
position—he pushed out one, two, three, three-and-a-half pushups,
before his arms and chest buckled, and he collapsed onto the
ground.

“Are you freaking kidding me? That’s all you
got—three miserable-looking pushups?” the drill instructor asked,
just before he knelt down next to the boy’s head. Only a second
later, he barked, “You’d better give me more than just three,
maggot!”

With all of his might, the boy tried again
but failed to get even one pushup.

After looking up, he whined, “Sir—I
can’t!”

“I somehow knew that you were going to be a
lot of work,” Humonus sneered with a whole lot of derision. “Give
me twenty sit-ups!”

“Sir what is a sit-up?”

The drill instructor howled out with such
severe agitation as if he had totally lost his marbles, but instead
of saying another word or making another sound, he laid his back
down upon the ground. He then laced his hands and fingers behind
his head, crossed his legs as he lifted them into the air, and bent
his knees to a forty-five degree angle. Repeatedly, he began to
pull his hands and head into his knees.

After he had performed ten sit-ups, he stood
back up onto his feet and said, “Make sure that you pull with your
stomach muscles, not your hands—now, give me twenty sit-ups.”

The boy flipped over onto his back, lifted up
his legs and knees, put his hands behind his head, and squeezed his
abdominal muscles by pulling his elbows to his knees. One, two,
three, four… five…

Even though five-and-a-half sit-ups were all
he could do, Baltor still felt his stomach muscles burning ever so
badly!

He looked up at his drill instructor, of who
he saw was simply shaking his head in baleful disdain.

Instead of yelling, however, Humonus clipped,
“Give me more pushups.”

Many long hours seemed to pass, though it was
impossible to tell exactly how many, especially underground, before
the utterly exhausted boy was finally granted a break.

Right after the drill instructor ordered the
boy to rest for ten minutes, he disappeared into one of the
pitch-black tunnels.

As Baltor sat down on the cold, hard ground,
and tried to relax, exhaustion and fatigue hit him all that much
harder, and he began to crave sleep.

Only a few seconds seemed to pass, however,
before the drill instructor was already back, screaming at his
student to do more pushups, sit-ups and running.

Soon after that, he began to teach the boy
how to do more types of exercises like jumping jacks and pull-ups,
and then many more long hours seemed to pass as the boy performed
them, along with still more pushups, sit-ups and running.

Finally, the time came when “the very, very
cruel drill instructor,” in Baltor’s unexpressed opinion, said,
“I’ll now take you to your bedchambers, so you can rest.”

Through his exhaustion and sweat-covered
body, the boy could only pant, “Yes….sir….”

The drill instructor led his student into a
pitch-black tunnel located at the far right side of the cavern.

The student was able to follow in the
darkness solely by listening to his drill instructor’s voice. “A
thief must rely on his other senses besides sight. Therefore, we
have left many of our tunnels without any lights, so that our
students can learn how to maneuver around in the darkness. Soon
enough, you will have to learn and master this skill. Of course you
will be tested in this area.”

The very second Humonus finished saying all
this information,

Baltor saw a lit cavern up ahead on the
right-hand side.

Nearly twenty seconds later, they
entered.

There, the boy observed about two-dozen bunk
beds, and that every bunk but one was occupied with sleeping
people. Lying against the wall on the right stood a huge metal
table filled with fruit, vegetables, small loaves of wheat bread,
wood pitchers filled with water, and empty, wooden mugs.

“This is where you’ll be sleeping,” Humonus
informed him while pointing to that empty bunk, “Better take
advantage of it while you can.”

“Yes, sir!”

Without another word, the drill instructor
turned around and departed the room.

Even though Baltor was hungry, he was too
exhausted to care. Immediately he plopped into bed and fell
asleep.

Only minutes seemed to pass before the boy
heard a screaming voice that brought him back to consciousness. As
he slowly opened his eyes, he turned his head toward the screaming.
Drill Instructor Humonus.

“I said get the hell up, for the dozenth
time,” the drill instructor screamed, looking quite ticked off.
“From now on, when I tell you to do something, do it the first
time! Do you understand maggot?”

Hurriedly sliding out of bed, the boy cried,
“Yes, sir!”

“You have five minutes to eat, and three of
those are up,” the drill instructor continued to yell.

While yawning, the boy ran over to the table
of food, plucked off a loaf of bread, and stuffed a piece of it
into his mouth. As he chewed on the hard bread, he quickly poured a
glass of water from the pitcher.

From his peripheral vision, he noticed that
his instructor was standing right behind him and silently
waiting—the rest of the room was void of occupants. Baltor took a
swallow of water, stuffed another piece of bread into his mouth,
chewed on that for a few seconds, and took another swallow of
water.

It didn’t even feel as if he had even two
minutes to eat, for upon swallowing his sixth chunk of bread and
fifth gulp of water, Humonus barked out, “Time’s up—let’s go! Lead
the way back to the training area!”

“Yes, sir,” the boy yelled out, before
running into the pitch-black tunnel.

Making his way back to the training area
turned to be an unbelievably frustrating task indeed, for many
times over, he crashed into a tunnel wall, crashed into his drill
instructor, or simply became lost.

For the most part, Humonus remained silent
during this rather long trip, except for the times that Baltor
screwed up. When that was the case, he was on the boy like flies on
feces—screaming away in the dark, reverberating tunnels that echoed
with even more yelling, which was a very disorientating thing for
poor Baltor.