The Seventh Mountain Read online

  Chapter 6

   

  Let’s Go Shopping

   

  Friends are…

   

   

  Mark and Nick walked back into the mountain. This time, Mark noticed that the decor was just like in his dream. Marble walls and floors, burnished wooden beams forming a diamond pattern high above with chandeliers hanging from every intersection. He thought about asking Nick if he had had dreams about this place and then decided not to.

  The short passage terminated into a long promenade that went to the left and to the right. Groups of people were meandering here and there. Different stores and shops lined the public walk. This was a shopping mall. There was even a marquee at the end of the short hall showing all the stores.

  The marquee was a megalithic looking, round, lighted sign, set atop a pedestal, which was on a short, circular, stage-like platform. It showed a map of the first level of the mountain with small, numbered, color-coded boxes indicating the location of shops. The numbered, color-coded register showed well over a thousand stores and shops, each specializing in one particular line of goods. There were bakeries, confectionaries, drink shops, tack shops, clothing stores, movie theaters, electronic and technical shops and a wide variety of shops for just about anything that you could think of. The Oasis wasn’t, by far, the only place to find something to eat. It was just the closest.

  The Oasis was the first place to the right and it was huge. It could easily seat three thousand people. There were a dozen rows of dining tables, each in a different color. No one was sitting at the tables. At the farthest end from the door was a stage with a row of tables on it.

  High-back dining booths lined the walls, more than a hundred on either side. Most of the booths were occupied. Mark and Nick chose one of the unoccupied booths. Mark leaned the staff against the wall and slid in behind it. Nick sat on the opposite side.

  There were four large books on the booth’s black marble table and four sets of silverware wrapped in gray napkins at the four places. Mark examined one of the large books. It was a menu the size of a large phone book. Countries were listed alphabetically and had their own sections. Foods were listed according to category.

  Mark said, “They must have a huge kitchen here. Tim said that you could get anything you want to eat or drink from any place in the world in here.”

  Nick said, “We haven’t got our signets yet. You have to have your signet registered at The Good Steward so that they know which account to charge. You can’t buy anything without your signet.” Nick sounded as if everyone should know this.

  “Tim told me that you could sign for stuff until you got your signet. He didn’t say anything about needing any spending money or anything.”

  “My brother, Ivan, told me that you need a signet for everything in school. He says that you can’t even get a toothpick without your signet.”

  A voice interrupted from the end of the table. The young waitress was tall and slender. Bright green eyes greeted Mark and Nick when they looked up at her. Her red hair was done up in a bun. She was wearing a white blouse and black slacks. Her nametag read, “Shana O’Riley.”

  “Freshmen are the exception to that rule during orientation. They can sign or use a signet for orientation only. You guys ready to order?”

  Mark said, “Lemonade, please, and chicken fried rice.”

  Shana asked, “Which country?”

  Mark thought for a moment and said, “China.”

  “China is closed right now. It’s the middle of the night there. You have to order from a country that is awake.” Shana used her pencil and pointed to the cover of one of the menus. The cover had a map of the world and the different time zones.

  Mark said, “Sorry, I don’t know which time zone we’re in.”

  “Number eight.”

  “Well then, how about the U.S.” Mark was confident that this would be available.

  “Each state in the U.S. is considered a separate country for food purchases.”

  “California.”

  Nick had been following this. “I’ll have iced tea from Georgia and a club sandwich.”

  Shana chuckled a little and asked, “The state or the country?”

  Nick blushed. “The state please.”

  She wrote on her order book. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Before she left, Mark asked her, “Why do you have to order from a country that is awake?”

  “Because there aren’t any shops open if everyone is asleep.”

  “You mean you actually have to go there to get what we order?”

  “Well, yeah, one of us does. You really are new to this aren’t you?”

  Mark said, “I guess it shows.”

  Shana smiled, turned and walked away.

  Nick said, “They remanifest, like Tim did when he brought you here. They can go anywhere they have ever been before. It’s really neat. If you concentrate really hard on something that you have seen, then you just automatically go to wherever that thing is. Remanifestation is something that all seniors learn. Ivan says that he heard that it’s hard to learn.”

  “I don’t mean to sound stupid or anything, but what is a Magi?”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “No. All of this is very strange to me. I’ve never seen or heard of anything like it.”

  “How did you get to be a Magi then? I mean, my mother and father were Magi and so were their parents. Their parents were too. Anyone can become a Magi, but you have to be recommended by a Magi. My parents recommended me.”

  “I don’t know how I became a Magi. Tim says that I was chosen. He didn’t say by who or why. He said my great, great, great, great grandfather was a Magi.”

  “You were chosen?”

  “Yeah, that’s what Tim said.”

  “Wow! That’s awesome! Do you know what your destiny is?”

  “I don’t have a clue. It probably has something to do with this staff.”

  “Can I see it?”

  “Sorry, I’m supposed to guard it, I think.”

  “Guard it from what?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’ll find out.”

  “That’s cool.”

  “Okay. I still don’t know what a Magi is.”

  “Well, Magi are secret warriors, kind of. They are not magicians or sorcerers or anything like that. Trained Magi blend mind, body and spirit to help people and to fight when needed. Magi have special powers because of that.”

  “Do you mean secret warriors like ninja?”

  “You are really new to this. No. Magi have special powers and ninja don’t.”

  “You mean powers like remanifesting.”

  “Yeah, and a lot more too.”

  “A lot more, like what?”

  “Spirit sight, dream casting, healing powers, and all kinds of stuff. I don’t even know it all.”

  “I guess that I’ll catch on to that, too.”

  “I guess so.”

  Mark and Nick finished lunch and left The Oasis. They decided to go and examine the signet rings. The shop wasn’t hard to find.

  They walked in to Diefenderfer’s Signet Shop. It was unlike any other jewelry store that Mark had ever seen in shopping malls. Glass display cases were everywhere, only there weren’t any tops on them. Everything was out in the open.

  The shopkeeper was behind the glass counter with his back toward them. His sleeveless black tunic revealed several thick scars on his arms and shoulders. He also had a thick scar that crossed the middle of his bald head from the base of his skull to the top of his head.

  “Young Mister Young… and Young Mister Poparov… welcome.” The shopkeeper didn’t turn to face them.

  The boys looked at each other. Mark said, “How did you know who we are?”

  “I am… AlHufus Diefenderfer… I am… sirs… an oracle.” With that he turned and faced the boys. Both boys could see that he was old and quite blind. His eyes were black and lifeless. The scar on
his head continued to the middle of his forehead.

  “You may think me blind… but I assure you… good sirs… I am not. I have not… the use… of my eyes, but… I see quite well. Now… how may I help you?” His speech seemed odd only in the fact that he paused between phrases. Everything else about it was quite normal, even if somewhat disconcerting.

  Mark started to speak but Mr. Diefenderfer cut him off. “So… you wish to… examine my wares. You are aware… are you not… that you cannot… purchase anything… without your counselor’s approval?”

  He paused again and then answered another question that Mark was about to ask. “Tim… is your counselor. He will be… taking his group… around to the different shops… starting tomorrow. I expect… that this will be… one of the first places… that your group… will visit. If you find… a ring… that you particularly like… then I will… set it aside… until you visit me… again. Go ahead… look around.”

  There were many display cases in the shop, arranged like library shelves that formed aisles. Each case was filled with small cubbies, each containing an individual ring and a number etched and colored on the upper edge of the cubby.

  Mark and Nick looked at many of the rings. They both picked out signet rings that they liked. Mark’s ring had a crest with a lion standing on a large rock. Nick chose a simple design of crossed sabers. Mr. Diefenderfer put them into a drawer with several other rings.

  The boys turned to leave when Mr. Diefenderfer said, “Swords are… best selected… when you know… your own skill… and style. Learning the sword… is best done… with a sword… that you don’t mind… destroying. Wisdom comes… with prudence… and patience.”

  “How did you know we were going to look at swords next?” Mark was again surprised my Mr. Diefenderfer’s clairvoyance.

  “I have told you… good sir… I am AlHufus Diefenderfer… an oracle. But… it does not take… an oracle… to foretell… what two freshmen boys… on opening day… of orientation… are apt… to be wishing… to examine.”

  Mark and Nick walked to Vanmie Swords. There were a lot of tables in the store, each with individual styles of swords on them.

  The proprietor was a short lady. She was not any taller than Mark himself. Her long, single braid of black hair reached to her ankles. She was dressed in a black tunic trimmed in silver. Her eyes were luminous brown. She turned and greeted them as they entered.

  “Hello gentlemen.” Her voice was soft and gentle, almost a whisper. “I am Joramina Vanmie. How may I help you?”

  “We’re just looking, ma’am.” Mark looked past her, to the case behind. Row upon row of trophies adorned the shelves. Each trophy sported a figure with sword raised high.

  Ms. Vanmie smiled and stepped aside.

  “Are all those trophies yours?”

  “Yes sir. I’ve taken first place, for the last fifty years, in single combat.”

  “Wow!” That was remarkable because of her size and the fact that she looked hardly older than his mom, who was twenty-nine, according to her.

  Mark’s attention was drawn to an interruption in the back of the shop. He turned and saw Ralph Lawrence waving a sword in the air.

  “I bet you could really cut someone’s head off with this one!”

  Ricky Barns brandished a sword at Ralph. “On guard!”

  Ralph swung his sword against Ricky’s. CLANG!

  Ms. Vanmie raised her voice ever so slightly. “If you damage it, you buy it.”

  Ralph and Ricky stopped, shrugged at each other and put the swords down. They walked past Mark and Nick on their way out. Ralph muttered, “I’ll see you in combat class.” He butted Mark with his bulging belly.

  Mark scowled and shook his head. “Whatever.”

  “You say you’re just looking. Help yourselves.”

  “Yes ma’am. Ma’am… which swords are good for learning with?”

  “Have you had any training?”

  Both boys answered, “No ma’am.”

  She picked up a tape measure and held her arms out to the side. “I need to measure you.”

  Mark laid the staff against his shoulder and held out his arms. Nick held out his arms too. Ms. Vanmie measured their arms, legs, and waist.

  “I’m guessing that neither of you know your style. And I think that it is safe to say that your skill level is zero. What I am going to do next is to test your reflexive style of defense. Follow me into the back room.” Nick followed her. Mark grabbed up his staff and followed Nick.

  Both boys walked through the door and Ms. Vanmie immediately said, “I’m going to hit you with this bamboo pole. Defend yourself.”

  Mark heard the swoosh and ducked when the bamboo pole passed over his head. Both boys jumped when the pole passed low at their ankles. Mark flinched sideways when the pole came down straight for his head. Instinctively, holding the staff with both hands, he parried the would-be-blow to the side with his staff. Nick used that instant to grab a wooden baton from the table in front of him. There were tables all over, some with old swords, some with wooden batons shaped like swords. He brandished the baton in front of himself, awaiting the next blow. It never came.

  Ms. Vanmie twirled her pole in front of her, then over her head, then behind her, and brought it to rest at her side.

  “Mark, you have two styles. One is suited to the gladius, a short sword. The other is suited to the katana. Which do you wish to learn first?”

  “I know what a short sword is, I think. What is a katana?”

  “A katana is an oriental design. It is a thin, lightly curved blade with a slanted tip. In your case, the best length is thirty-four inches.”

  She pulled a sheathed katana from a group of swords on a nearby table and tossed it to him. It had the number thirty-four stamped on the hilt.

  “The short sword is in the ‘grunt and clunk’ class of swords. It has a wide, double-edged blade with a point. Both have their strengths and weaknesses. Thirty-four inches is also the best length for you on this sword.” She pulled a sheathed short sword from another table and tossed it to him.

  Mark dropped the katana on the table beside him in order to catch the short sword. Instinctively, he didn’t drop the staff. The short sword also had the number thirty-four stamped on the hilt.

  “The best way to decide which one to study first is to see which one you like best.”

  Mark pulled each sword in turn from its scabbard and tested the feel in his hand.

  “Nick, your style is definitely the cutlass. The cutlass is in the ‘stand-off’ class of swords. It has a wide, long curved blade. Most have points; some don’t. Your length is forty inches.” She retrieved a cutlass and tossed it to Nick. It had the number forty stamped on the hilt.

  Nick pulled the cutlass from its sheath and tested the feel of it in his hand.

  “Mark, have you made up your mind?”

  “The short sword feels better in my hand, but I think I have more control with the katana.” Mark had a sword in each hand when he spoke. The staff leaned against his shoulder.

  Neither sword had been sharpened. They were obviously for training.

  “Control and accuracy are what you want in a sword. It would probably be best for you to start with a katana. Give me the short sword back, and you can keep the katana. Nick, you can keep the cutlass.”

  Mark spoke first. “We haven’t gotten our signets yet. We can’t purchase anything without our counselor’s okay.”

  “You don’t need a signet or a counselor’s permission to accept a gift.” Ms. Vanmie crossed her arms in front of her and tilted her head to the left. “Besides, I am your combat teacher. What I say about swords overrides what your counselor says.” She raised her thin eyebrows and bowed her head ever so slightly.

  Both boys looked at each other. Their mouths dropped open.

  Mark said, “I don’t get it.”

  “You two have quite a different attitude than I get from other freshmen boys.” Ms. Vanmie approached them. �
�Usually it’s just like you saw out there. ‘Oh Wow! I bet you could really cut someone’s head off with this one,’ or a couple of boys pick up swords and pretend to have at it. It’s refreshing to see respect from freshmen. Thank you.”