The Cypher (11 page)

“How about Niagara Falls?” Bolswaithe immediately replied. “We have a facility right beside the Horseshoe Falls.”

“Can we go outside the building?” So far, Bolswaithe had only allowed Thomas to stay inside the grounds of the buildings they visited. No street walking.

“As soon as Tony gets tagged we can do some excursions outside the compounds perimeters. And only in daylight.”

“He still hasn’t done it?” Thomas asked.

Bolswaithe wanted to tag Tony the same way he’d done with Thomas, the same day he showed up at the mansion, but Tony had resisted saying that “his body was a temple.”

“He won’t say it, but he’s really scared about it.” Bolswaithe said.

Thomas sighed. Now that he had seen the true potential of Pervagus mansion he couldn’t just stay indoors.

“Will the tag go through clothing?” he asked mischievously.

“Through an old t-shirt? Sure.” Bolswaithe said with a smirk.

“Let’s go back, then and you can show me how to use that gun. We can do Niagara Falls tomorrow.” Thomas would tag Tony himself. He wanted to see the world and experience it live, not through a glass window.

***

That night Thomas tagged Tony through his boxer shorts instead of his t-shirt. Tony was playing on the pinball machine he’d brought from New York – still clad in his black leather jacket. As Tony pushed the levers, Thomas saw his opportunity.

The timing was perfect. Just as Tony got the multi-ball bonus and three metal balls were released, Thomas applied the tag to his right buttock and ran away from the room, chased only by Tony’s Italian curses because he was aiming for the pinball machine’s record.

***

With Tony tagged and after calming him down with the new suite room Thomas had requested for him from Doctor Franco, they were ready to leave the mansion.

They could visit any town or city in the world just by imagining it before leaving the mansion’s gates. As long as the place they visited had more than three streets, they could return to the mansion by turning the corner on the middle of the second street to the left.

Tony demanded that, after the rough way he’d been treated, the first place they visited was the Della Francesca’s ancestral home. Under the watchful company of Bolswaithe, he’d taken Thomas to Arezzo, Italy, to visit the frescoes painted by Piero Della Francesca in the mid-fourteen hundreds. Piero had been the first Guardian in Tony’s family and a personal friend of Niccolo de Conti – the Cypher who had found the
Book of Concord
that century.

“Of course papers were reversed that time,” Tony said as they admired the
Discovery and Proof of the True Cross
. “Piero was just a kid and the Cypher was his mentor.”

Thomas scoffed, and then laughed. “You’re not my mentor.”

Tony leaned toward Bolswaithe. “I’m his mentor,” he whispered. “He’s just being rebellious in front of you. You know, teens.”

Bolswaithe lifted an eyebrow and followed Thomas.

They had to go all the way inside the mansion and then back out in order to switch from city to city. So, instead of going back, they decided to stay and visit Arezzo in depth. From the Roman amphitheater to the Piazza Grande, there was no time to visit the museums, but they could return any time they wanted.

When it was time to go back to the mansion, they walked down any street and the entrance columns always appeared in the middle of the second block to the left. And, although the colors and styles of the street sign changed, it always read, “Pervagus Road.”

Mrs. Pianova had given Thomas three days to roam freely and inspect the mansion before enforcing a strict study routine. Bolswaithe served as both teacher and mentor with some of the assignments, especially math and physics.

In the evenings, Thomas continued to work in the library while Bolswaithe attended to his mansion duties.

Tony always met with them during breakfast, lunch, and dinner, although he had found a nice niche for himself working in one of the mansion’s R&D engineering bays.

That night, Tony was trying to mentor Thomas into the finer culinary points about Haggis, a Scottish dish made from the heart, liver, and lungs of a sheep when Doctor Franco entered Thomas’s station.

“Good night, gentlemen,” the Doctor said before covering his nose with a handkerchief. “What is that smell?” He looked around the room trying to find the culprit.

“What smell, Doc? I don’t smell anything? Do you smell something, Thomas?” Tony said as he dumped the little haggis package behind the desk.

“No, not really,” Thomas giggled.

The Doctor decided to ignore the smell. “I have scheduled a martial arts training class for you starting tomorrow.”

“Great!” Tony clapped. “I told him he needed one, Doc.”

“It’s for both of you, and Henri.” The Doctor opened the door again. “Tomorrow.”

“Excuse me, Doc, I don’t really…” Tony began but didn’t finish his sentence as the Doctor shot him a disbelieving stare. “Where are we taking the class?”

“Upper floor. Seventeenth door to the right. Eight o’clock sharp.” The Doctor closed the door and Tony immediately dove for the bundle of food.

“I think we can apply the five second rule,” he said, picking up the haggis and offering a bit to Thomas. “So, martial arts, huh? Ever practiced?”

“Tae Kwon Do,” Thomas said. He’d forgotten to practice since coming to the mansion. Mainly, he just didn’t have the time. Gramps had found a school in Carlsbad where he could continue his education to obtain a black belt. Now that he thought about it, he missed the classes and the sparring; he always felt more relaxed after a good sparring session and it gave him confidence.

“I’m more of a stickman myself,” Tony said with a mouthful of haggis. “Eskrima – I learned from a Philippine master in New York. Ever heard of it?”

“I’ve seen some videos about it. Looks harsh.” In the videos, Thomas had watched fighters use two long sticks to spar, but he knew that the sticks could be changed for knives or even machetes. It was, unlike Tae Kwon Do, a martial art that was developed to be used with weapons.

Tony let out a chuckle. “Sometimes things get a little harsh for Guardians, Thomas.”

Thomas smiled too, but he didn’t like the sound of that one bit.

The Team

Thomas and Bolswaithe were the first to arrive at seven the next morning with a good thirty minutes to spare, twenty-nine of those that they would surely wait for Tony to arrive. 

Thomas was anxious. He couldn’t wait to start martial arts training. As he reached for the doorknob, the door flung open and Tasha, dressed in a violet and white sports suit, with her hair tied in a ponytail, bumped into him, and he hugged her out of instinct.

“I’m so sorry,” she said before recognizing Thomas, and then she flashed him a smile.

“It’s okay,” he said quickly removing his arms from around her waist. It took her a moment to step back. He stared into her eyes. How could she be more than two thousand years old? It made no sense at all.

He scanned her face and then noticed her ears. Like in all fantasy stories and fairy tales he’d seen or read, her ears ended in little points. Not fox-like exaggerated as in cartoons, or even like Mr. Spock, but pointed nonetheless.

“I’m really sorry about Morgan.” She passed a hand over her right ear. “We’re doing all we can to find him.”

“I know, thank you.” Thomas gulped and didn’t know what else to say.

Tasha broke the silence with a question. “You came to train with Kiran?”

“Yeah.” Thomas couldn’t shake the dumbness caused by being around Tasha. Morgan would have earned another dollar. He just got so giddy around her.

Bolswaithe interrupted, “I guess you know that the Doctor is assembling a team of guardians for Thomas.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m on it.”

“You are?” Thomas came out from his lethargy.

“Yes, I’m going to be your spell weaver.” She snapped her fingers and a little yellow flame hovered above her palm. “Isn’t that great?”

“Yeah, that’s something.” Thomas leaned forward to look at the flame, but Tasha closed her palm, extinguishing it.

“So, you’re training with us?” he asked.

“Not yet,” she pursed her lips. “I’m on a special assignment, but I’ll be done in about a week. Then,” she leaned forward, “we’ll spend more time together.”

“I can’t wait,” Thomas blurted. It seemed that at last something was going right for him.

“See you in a week.” Tasha smiled and trotted away, her ponytail jumping merrily from side-to-side.

A couple of seconds later, Thomas felt a slap on his shoulder. “And who was that?” Tony asked followed by Henri.

“That was Tasha,” Thomas said, feeling his cheeks burn.

“Tasha? The King’s aunt? She hides her age really well. I can see why you asked the King about her.” He elbowed Thomas in the shoulder.

“And she’s going to be a part of our team.” Thomas reached to open the seventeenth door.

“Wait, wait, wait … Team? Did I hear team?” Tony extended his hand toward Henri, who gave him a high five.

“That’s correct, sir,” Bolswaithe said instead of giving Tony the high five he was offered.

“Finally, some recognition. So we have the eyes,” Tony pointed at Thomas then Bolswaithe, “and the hands. You’re obviously the muscle Henri, and the beauty just went jumping over there. And that leaves…?” He placed his hands on his chest awaiting their answer.

“The spleen?” Thomas chuckled. “No wait, the elbow.”

“The mouth’s more like it,” Henri said from behind. “He eats everything and anything.”

“Come on guys,” Tony feigned being offended.

“If I could venture a guess,” Bolswaithe joined in without chuckling, “I would say the whole digestive system, from mouth to…”

“Okay, Bolsy!” Tony stopped him. “That’s uncalled for. You know what? I’ll let you guys figure it out.” Tony opened the seventeenth door and motioned them through. A gust of cold air buffeted them.

The door opened directly to a ledge carved on a mountainside. The drop from the ledge was thousands of feet down. A stone bridge extended from the ledge toward a circular area and what looked to be a stone temple that protruded from the mountain. The temple was built like a pyramid and made up of many levels. Each level was intricately carved with figures of animals, humans, and fauns, some were dancing or eating, others were engaged in hand-to-hand combat.

Two large tiger statues sat on each side of the main entrance. Eight fire urns sat around on top of four elephants, who in turn, stood on top of a giant sea turtle that hovered above a pedestal and seemed to be swimming slowly in space.

With the exception of the stone structures, the whole mountainside was covered in snow. Thomas noted that although strong winds carried snow from the mountainside, the snow bypassed the bridge, temple, and arena, as if the whole compound was protected under a crystal dome. Flames sprouted from basins along the bridge.

“This place is amazing,” Thomas said aloud once they had crossed the bridge and entered the middle of the arena. The scenery was really spectacular. The temple stood halfway through the mountainside; the top of the mountain rose another couple of thousand feet above the door they had come through from the mansion, and the air was clear and crisp, cool, not cold as it should have been at that altitude.

Thomas was still gazing at the mountaintop when a voice he knew very well came from behind and said, “I’m glad you like it. This is my commorancy. Kangchenjunga. The Five Treasures of Snow.”

Thomas turned around to face Vice Principal Killjoy Khanna, a metal thermos of coffee in one hand and her usual metal pad in the other. “Welcome to Nepal.”

Doyenne Kiran

“Settle down and form a line,” Killjoy ordered. “My name is Kiran Khanna, Doyenne of martial arts of the Guardians. Some of you may also know me as Killjoy.” She turned her head to Thomas but he couldn’t see her eyes through her thick sunglasses. A couple of assistants dressed like monks brought out racks of weapons and placed them around the circle arena. “Outside, you can call me Miss Khanna, but in here you will address me as Doyenne.”

“May I introduce my team?” Tony broke rank stepping forward. Killjoy faced him with a twitch of distaste in her mouth.

“I’m Antonio Della Francesca,” Tony said extending his hand, which Killjoy ignored.

“Your names are meaningless in here,” she sneered. “You must earn the right to have one.”

“Oh, ah. Sure.” Tony lowered his hand and stepped back in line.

“Don’t move back.” Killjoy walked to the center of the arena. “We’ll assess you first.”

Tony winked at the others and placed himself in front of Killjoy.

“Attack me,” she ordered.

“What?” Tony blurted. “Just like that?”

Instead of answering, Killjoy threw her hot coffee at Tony’s groin, and when he doubled over, she slapped him side-to-side in the face with the metal pad. Then she jabbed her thermos directly into his chin.

Tony dropped to the floor.

Thomas let out a soft “ouch.”

“I read your file,” she told Tony while he massaged his chin on the floor. “You’re proficient in Eskrima. Grab a pair of yantok and attack.”

Tony stood up slowly and grabbed a couple of long rattan fight sticks from one of the racks the monks had set out for them. He twirled them once, assessing their weight, and then assumed an attack position. “You’re really pushing it, lady,” he said as Killjoy smiled at him tauntingly.

“Go,” Killjoy said, and Tony attacked twirling the fight sticks. At first his movements were slow and deliberate, not trying to hit her, but he gained speed when he saw that she easily deflected all his blows with her thermos and pad. Suddenly, he was throwing strikes as fast as he could – the sticks just a blur in his arms, Killjoy deflecting all of them.

There was a change in the fight as Killjoy suddenly went on the offensive and Tony had to step back, defending himself from her attacks.

The finish happened in a blur – Killjoy stepped inside the arc of the fight sticks and back-elbowed Tony on the jaw, following the elbow with the pad and then the thermos as she twirled, extending her arms, hitting Tony again with the pad.

Tony lifted up a couple of feet and the fight sticks went flying from his hands as he landed with a loud thump.

“I’ve decided what to call you while you earn your name,” Killjoy said as Tony groaned on the ground. “You’re aggressive but clumsy, and you move as if you had two clubbed feet. I shall call you Baboon.”

Henri let out a snicker and Killjoy turned to him. “You think you can do better, half-breed?” she snapped.

Henri snorted at the word and pushed back his shoulders with a stone-grinding sound.

“Step in,” Killjoy commanded. “Get out of the way, Baboon.” Tony limped out of the circle, still massaging his chin. “The first thing in hand-to-hand combat,” Killjoy said, “is to size your opponent. Assess its strengths and vulnerabilities. What do you see, half-breed?”

Henri cranked his neck and lunged toward her, but she sidestepped with a jump and hit him in the back of the head with the pad. Henri lunged again and again but she evaded him. “You’re holding back!” she yelled. “What do you see?”

Henri cracked his knuckles. He was really angry now. “I see a frail, short, fat woman with a death wish!” he yelled back at her.

Bolswaithe placed a hand over Thomas’s chest holding him back when he saw that Thomas wanted to intervene.

“You see what I want you to see, half-breed. There’s no need to hold back,” Killjoy shouted, and a ballet of sorts happened inside her sweater. Two slender hands came from under the sweater and began to unbutton it as two more hands appeared from the top. The thermos and pad were handed over to the top hands while the arms retreated into the sweater. At the same time, Killjoy gained stature – she had been hunched over inside the sweater, but now that she was displaying her true self, she gained at least two feet in height. Her thick neck transformed – becoming long and elegant – and her double chin disappeared. She threw her sweater and long skirt to the ground and released her hair from the tight bun she always wore. Her monk assistants rushed to her side and she handed them the thermos, pad, and finally her large sunglasses. Her clear eyes were highlighted by Kohl and her dark long hair now fell over her shoulders.

Instead of the plump Vice-Principal Khanna stood a six-armed creature of Hindu legend and great beauty.

“Don’t hold back,” Killjoy said again adopting a fighting stance with her six arms flailing in different directions. “Attack.”

Henri charged. This time he extended his wings to try and catch Killjoy as she sidestepped, but she crouched and used three of her arms to fling Henri over her shoulder.

“You’re a brute!” she yelled at him. “A beast, no more than a mindless half-breed!”

With every insult, Henri grew angrier and angrier. He threw punches at her, but the ones she didn’t evade she blocked with two arms while striking back with a third.

In one swift movement, she grabbed his neck and somersaulted onto his back. Henri tried to grab her, but when he couldn’t reach her, he flung himself from the ledge.

As Bolswaithe and Thomas ran to the edge, they watched as Henri flew with Killjoy still hanging on to his neck. Henri tried to shake her off, but she used four of her arms to grab his wings and direct their flight toward the arena.

Henri crashed into the middle, lifting up a cloud of debris from which Killjoy emerged unscathed.

“And what do you see?” Henri grunted as the cloud dissipated. He was kneeling and holding his left arm and side where cracks had appeared on his granite skin. He could not continue the fight even if he wanted to.

Killjoy approached him, “I see room for improvement,” she said as she called her assistants. “Take him to the flux well,” she told them and then she caressed his face. “You are the bull. Proud and headstrong, I like that.”

“Thank you … Doyenne,” Henri said bowing his head and letting the assistants lead him through the door guarded by the tiger statues.

“So,” Killjoy said turning to Thomas and Bolswaithe, crossing her three sets of arms in front of her. “Should we spar a little more, or can we begin practice?”

“Practice, Doyenne,” Thomas and Bolswaithe said in unison.