Tartum missed Savall the moment he left. The man sounded sincere, and it was nice to hear a voice that wasn’t mocking him for a change. He was trying to tell him something. What did he mean? What could they hope to teach him through all this? They wanted him isolated, in the dark, scared and hopeless. They wanted him to hit rock bottom. They sent Jeth to taunt him, and they were keeping him in good health, minus the starvation. In his weakened state, it was hard for Tartum to think. He really didn’t want to think, he wanted to go back to sleep and die. He wanted this to be over. For a moment, Tartum did try to go back to sleep, but that little nagging voice in the back of his head wouldn’t let him. It wanted him to think on Savall’s words. Realizing he wasn’t going to be able to sleep before placating his subconscious, Tartum focused on what Savall had said.
Why was eating the rat so important? What did it signify? To be honest, eating the rat was sounding really good. He was starving; he was dying! He knew the rat was sustinence. What was stopping him? Why did he resist so much? Tartum knew what it was. He had the answer.
Pride, arrogance, believing in fairy tales! Savall had said it all! He was holding onto his resistance because his whole life he had believed the fairytale. He was taught that the good are rewarded and the evil are punished. Yet the only time he ever felt rewarded was when he broke the rules or challenged the “good”. Didn’t he find love in a brothel? Wasn’t Isidor a fraud? Hadn’t he killed numerous villagers in his home town? Hadn’t he killed children to defend a dog? Hell, he didn’t know wealth until he had sold his family home. What about any of that was good or honorable? According to the story books, none of it. According to all that Isidor had taught him, alot of what he had done was “evil”. It was then that Tartum realized he had only found victory through evil or less than honorable acts.
Tartum had to let go of his preconceptions. He had to abandon all the prescribed rules and falsehoods he was led to believe about the world. He had to embrace the fact that in order to lead, he had to follow! The acceptance of that truth was eating the rat. It was an act he didn’t want to commit, yet the choice wasn’t his. By eating the rat, Tartum would be trained; all that was promised would be his. He would see the world the way it really is! Not the way the sheep of the world saw it. He would become powerful. He would have his future! He would make his destiny! The only thing stopping him was a dead, plump rat.
With the last of his strength, Tartum crawled over to the rat. His anger returned, but it was at himself for being such a fool. They were trying to teach him a major life lesson, and he had resisted all this time! All he had to do was accept that he wasn’t in charge! He had already lived that way most of his life! Being a “pupil” defined not being in charge and following someone else’s lead! What a fool he’d been! Disgust of himself fueled his muscles, and after what seemed like an eternity, he reached the rat.
Without any further hesitation, Tartum began devouring the rat. It was one of the most delicious meals he had ever tasted. The rat was delicious, its fluids were a heady tonic, its fur was the most supple garnish. He reveled in his meal. He was slurping the tail when he heard the door open. Savall and Jeth stood in the opening, smiling. The last thing Tartum heard, as he lost consciousness, was Jeth saying something.
“See? I knew I could make you do it!”
...
Tartum awoke. There was a bright light in the room, and it hurt his eyes. He wondered where the light was coming from. Had Jeth thrown a torch into the box? Was he dead? He was lying in something that was much more comfortable than the hard stone floor he was accustomed to. He was still incredibly hungry and had the taste of wine was on his lips. The scent of roasted meats and vegetables flooded his nose and made his stomach scream to be fed. Not ready to believe what his senses told him, Tartum slowly opened his eyes.
He was in an incredible room. The bed was easily twice as large as the one in his room at The Crenshaw. The mattress was like sleeping on cotton, and the blanket that covered him was the finest satin. He had never known luxury like this. The room was huge, almost half the size of his boyhood home! The walls had many paintings of men wearing the armor Savall now wore. They all looked old and wise. They all had the same look on their faces that Savall had when he first met him. The proud, wizened grandfather-look that Tartum respected. He looked around the room and saw a table a few paces from him. It was packed with food of all types. It was too tempting for Tartum to ignore. His mind screamed that it was a trap, but Tartum didn’t care. He would gladly give up his life, at this point, for one crumb from that table.
He began to get out of the bed, when he felt a strong, yet gentle hand on his chest, carefully pushing him back down. Looking up, he saw it was Vaund. He had a caring look on his face. It reminded him of the way his father had looked at him when he was sick as a child. Tartum looked at Vaund and then the table. Vaund smiled and produced a plate full of meat and cheese. He handed it to Tartum, a piece at a time. Tartum began to consume the food, as fast as Vaund would offer it.
“Easy now, Tartum, easy. You’ll have your fill, I swear it. Just go easy. You were in the Null Box for a long time, and it may take your body some time to adjust to food again. Slow down, or you’ll retch.” Vaund said, with a soft voice.
Tartum listened to what Vaund told him and forced himself to obey. For now, he would play their game. If, in the end, he felt the need for revenge, then he would have it. They had made a mistake by removing the shroud that society had pulled over his eyes. He had learned that anyone could betray you at anytime. If you weren’t prepared for it, you’d be left to die a horrific death. It was a lesson Tartum would never forget.
Chewing his food slowly, Tartum’s eyes began to fill with tears. Being out of the Null Box was starting to sink in. His relief was so great, it was too much to contain. He didn’t have the strength yet to celebrate, so he cried. He ate and cried. He didn’t care if anyone saw. He had earned this outburst and would use it. It made him feel better.
Vaund placed the plate with the rest of the meal in Tartum’s lap and rubbed his back with one hand. The gesture endeared Vaund to Tartum. It was nice to be comforted by this man. It was nice to have a friend again. With his meal finished and his crying coming to an end, exhaustion caught hold of him again. Vaund saw Tartum trying to fight it and placed his hands over his forehead.
“Relax, Tartum. Rest now, your body must recuperate. I will be here the whole time. Heal. You will need your strength for what is to come.” he said, in the same soft and caring voice.
Tartum laid back in the bed, and Vaund began to cast a spell.
“Yurithkle-domoth-teryeth.” Vaund spoke in a low whisper. To Tartum, it almost sounded like a prayer. He began to feel incredibly sleepy.
Tartum was snoring loudly in seconds.
...
Savall entered the room. “How is he, Vaund?”
Vaund was watching Tartum sleep with a look of sorrow in his eyes. “How do you think he is, Boss? We tortured him and broke his spirit. He’s a meek piece of clay, looking for acceptance and structure. I hate this part of the training.” Vaund said, disgust entering his voice.
“You know why it must be done, Vaund. You were one of the fastest to accept it when you were in the box. Do not pretend it’s not necessary.” Savall said. His tone was neutral. He was used to this discussion with his sensitive friend.
Vaund sighed. He knew Savall was right, and he knew if he was in charge, he would implement the box for new recruits as well. That didn’t mean he had to like it. His time in the box was awful. Even if he was only in there for two days. That was eight years ago, and he still felt sick when he walked in those rooms. Tartum had spent three weeks in his! If he could ever bare to look at one of those rooms again, he’d kiss his feet.
“He’ll be fine, Boss. He’s sleeping now. My spell has him, and he won’t wake again for hours. His body is remarkably strong, still, considering the length of time he was in there. In fact, only Jeth spent more time in the damn t
hing. What was he trying to prove?” Vaund asked himself, more than Savall.
Savall smiled. “He was taking a stand, my young friend. He was showing us what Jeth showed us. He’s a tough son of a bitch and not easily broken. I know you think he’s culled and defeated, but I think we just took him down a few pegs. You watch, one day he’ll kill me and take over the guild. If we’re not careful, he may just kill us all. I have a feeling that before Tartum’s story is over, no one on the planet will be unchanged.” he finished, with a hint of envy in his voice.
Vaund had never heard Savall talk about anyone like this. What did Savall see in Tartum that he was missing? Tartum looked young for his age. His hair was cut very short, which was the current fashion in Saroth. A hint of a beard darkened his face, which was pock-marked. He was well built for a caster. Not overly muscled, but there was plenty of definition to his body. Vaund assumed that came from carrying around that forty-pound staff everywhere he went. Crazy! His first Master must have been half-lunatic! Still, Vaund liked the man. He almost responded the first time Tartum had cried out to him in the box. How he knew anyone was there was beyond him. Maybe the Boss was right. Maybe there was something more to this man. For what they wanted him to do, he’d better have something special about him, or all this healing would have been for nothing.
“When he wakes up, leave us, Vaund. I would speak with him alone.” Savall said.
“Of course, Boss.” Vaund replied.
...
Tartum opened his eyes. He was still in the comfortable bed, the size of a wagon. “It wasn’t a dream!” he thought. He looked around. He saw Vaund, preparing another plate of food and filling a mug with what appeared to be water. His stomach growled loudly at the prospect of being fed. Tartum found it interesting that he was now thinking of his stomach, as an independent entity from the rest of his body. He smiled at the thought.
“A smile, eh? Well it’s good to see you’re feeling better. son.” Savall said. He seemed to be genuinely happy to see Tartum up and in good spirits.
“Well Savall, I’m not in a gods forsaken box anymore.” Tartum replied. He was feeling much better. Vaund brought the plate of food to Tartum and left the mug on the nightstand next to the bed. Tartum began devouring the food, trying to go as slowly as he could, so he could give the impression he was still following Vaund’s orders. Vaund noticed and nodded, approvingly.
“Heh, call me Boss, Tartum. I don’t like my name used that much. Bad for business.” Savall said. The hint of a warning was in his tone.
Tartum caught the hint and corrected himself. “Of course, Boss. I apologize.” Tartum said, taking on the persona of pupil.
Savall’s smile returned. “Relax, son. I’m not mad at you. Disipline must be maintained, is all. How do you feel?”
Vaund made his way to towards the door. Tartum noticed this and motioned for him to wait.“Vaund, Thank you.” Tartum said, half choking on a piece of fruit that he’d crammed in his mouth. Vaund seemed stunned at Tartum’s gratitude. He stammered a response and then left in a hurry.
Looking at Savall, Tartum answered his question. “I feel like I’ve been in a hole for the past year. How long was I in there Sav...Boss?” Tartum asked tripping over Savall’s name.
“Almost three weeks. Another few days, and you’d probably be dead, son. I’m glad you came to your senses.” Savall said. There was no sarcasm in his voice. Tartum found he couldn’t be angry at the man. He really did understand the reason he was put through the ordeal. Even if he did hate every moment of it. He guessed that was the point.
“I have you to thank for that, Boss. Why did you help me?” Tartum asked.
It was Savall’s turn to be stunned, “I’m the leader of this guild. It’s my job to help you. All of you. Without you, I’m nothing. I don’t have people call me Boss because I need an ego boost. I have you call me Boss so that everyone knows who to come to for instruction and guidance. You would have figured it out on your own, I have no doubt. I just gave you a slight nudge in the right direction.” Savall chuckled, “It was dark in there, I guess your thoughts got a little lost.”
Tartum found himself laughing at the joke. Yes, Savall reminded Tartum alot of Isidor. He liked this man.
After his laugh, Savall took on a serious posture. “Now, we have to talk, Tartum. This is important, so pay attention. What Jeth did to you was under my orders. He did not put you in there because of something personal, or because he took enjoyment out of it. He did it as part of your training. Everyone goes through the Null Box, and only the survivors ever make it to the next step. You are not to seek vengeance on Jeth for this. If you do so, your life will be forfeit. You will be bound, gagged, and left naked in the Null box until you die. There will be no rats to eat, nor will there be anyone to come to check on you. Do you understand?” Savall almost looked angry.
Tartum swallowed hard, the look on Savall’s face unnerved him. “Of course, Boss, I bear no ill-will towards Jeth. Although, I must admit, he’s not my favorite person in the world.” Tartum said, in all honesty.
Savall’s smile returned. “Excellent, Tartum, excellent! I’m glad to hear it. I would hate to have to throw you back in there, after you just earned the right to be out. Now, there’s a reward for passing that stage of your training!” Savall said. He reached under the bed and produced a large bundle.
Handing it to Tartum, Savall explained. “Consider this the closest to a uniform you’ll ever need, son.” Savall was all smiles again.
Tartum looked at the bundle and unwrapped it. Inside was a thick satin cloak with a deep hood. It reminded Tartum of what he heard monks wore. It was a dark forest green color and had a black trim around all the openings. It was incredibly soft to the touch and felt good in his hands. Upon inspecting the interior of the garment, Tartum saw many compartments and pockets for a variety of objects. It was the nicest cloak Tartum had ever possessed. He also found a pair of pants and breeches, that closely resembled his old ones, and a dark green leather jerkin. A pair of simple walking shoes completed his ensemble. Tartum didn’t know what to say, he was very grateful.
“This is incredible! Thank you, Boss! Thank you, but why?” Tartum asked.
“Well, we couldn’t very well let you walk around in those flashy clothes you had on when we first met, could we? They were ratty as hells and far to bright. A thief is only successful, if no one notices him. With your staff and skills, people will think you’re a druid, before they think you’re a member of the thieves guild.” Savall said, as though he was stating the obvious. Pointing at the cloak, he continued, “The cloak is enchanted! It will keep you warm, even in the coldest climates. Excellent for keeping your fingers nimble enough to cast your spells or removing a purse. Have to keep your hands warm and in good condition to be a thief. That’s lesson two.”
It was then, Tartum realized he was naked. The only thing covering him was the blanket. He pulled up the covers and looked at Savall. “Thank you, again.” was all he could think to say.
“Bah, I already knew you would earn them, son! Why do you think Vaund was taking your measurements when we first met. He had to tailor them to fit you.” Savall said.
Suddenly that whole scene made sense. How far in advance was Savall planning everything, he wondered. He realized he could learn a lot from this man. He made a mental note to spend as much time with him as possible. He wanted to learn as much as he could from him.
Seeing that Tartum wasn’t going to reply, Savall stood up. “Well son, get some rest and get your strength back. When you’re ready, we’ll start the next phase of your training. Try not to dawdle though. I’d like my room back as soon as possible.” giving Tartum a fatherly slap on the back, Savall left him to his meal and recovery.
...
Three days had passed, and Tartum was beginning to feel like himself again. He was walking around Savall’s bedroom, in order to move his recovery along. He looked out the window to admire the sun. He never thought the sun would be something
he missed, but the sight of the huge, orange and yellow fireball hovering in the sky brought a smile to his face. He was discovering that a lot of the small things he used to take for granted were suddenly extremely important to him.
He was dressed in his new clothes and had never felt so good. The clothes fit him perfectly and offered support where it was needed and was loose where required. The clothes fit just tight enough to make him feel supported and confident. It was as if wearing the clothes was bolstering his self worth.
The cloak was, by far, his favorite piece. The softness of the material, felt like it was caressing his entire body in a protective embrace. It almost seemed sentient and reacted to his movements, before he made them. No matter how cold it got inside the room, he always felt extremely comfortable. His clothing alone was worth joining the guild. He was extremely happy with his current situation. He was in the middle of admiring his ensemble, when he heard a knock at the door. He found it strange that someone would knock, considering this was Savall’s room, and no one had knocked since he had been inside.
“Come in!” Tartum called to the door.
The door opened, only slightly. Tartum knew who it was before he said a word. Tartum had wondered when he would see him again.
“I bring a peace offering, Tartum! Don’t magic me!” Jeth said, mischief was rife in his voice.
Jeth shot his arm through the door and dangled a dead rat by the tail. “It’s fresh and doesn’t have that Null Box smell!” Jeth laughed.
Tartum saw the rat bouncing around in Jeth’s hand, and couldn’t help himself. He erupted in laughter. The shock of the comment, and the cruelness of the joke, was too much for him not to laugh at. He wanted to be mad at Jeth. Savall had warned him about seeking revenge against him, and now that it had been a few days, Tartum didn’t feel any real anger towards him. Although, he still didn’t like Jeth much. He doubted he ever would.
The Jade Mage: The Becoming: Volume 1 Page 21