The Sword Maker's Seal by Trevor Schmidt Read Free Book Online

parents he was working on a project at the school.
    â€œThat way, it isn’t really lying. You’ll be at school, and you’ll be thinking about the case, a project.”
    Ezra agreed and called his parents, who grudgingly took the bait.

    When the final bell rang, Ezra packed up his schoolbag and walked grudgingly to Mrs. Mullins’ classroom to receive his punishment. When he made to take a seat, Mrs. Mullins turned from her computer screen and said frankly, “No. Don’t sit down.”
    â€œYou won’t be serving detention with me. Please go see the custodian. Maybe cleaning up the floors after hours will teach you the value of silence.”
    Ezra solemnly walked down the hall to the custodian’s office. The older kids called him Slim Jim, but his real name was Jim Schidlowski. Most people had trouble saying his last name and opted for his more descriptive nickname. Jim was six foot five and would have been a professional basketball player if not for a debilitating car crash that practically crushed his leg and jarred his brain badly.
    He still walked with a slight limp and he had a scar on the back of his head where they had to operate. For years Jim had served as school janitor because it was the only work he could get. Some of the kids made fun of him; some believed he lived in the school and watched it at night, but no one said anything mean to his face. That would be a huge mistake. He was nice enough when he kept to himself, but he had a temper that was fierce if egged on.
    Ezra arrived at Jim’s office, which was in truth a broom closet with a chair, TV, and all of his cleaning supplies lined against the wall, and knocked meekly at the door. While he waited for Jim to answer, a tangle of fear knotted in his stomach and he nervously pitter-pattered his fingers against his jeans.
    â€œWho’s there?” Jim said urgently.
    â€œUm, it’s Ezra Thorne. Mrs. Mullins sent me to help you clean…”
    The door opened and the tall wire-thin man stepped out with a mop and bucket. He looked Ezra up and down and wiped his dripping nose on his sleeve. He looked as though he was suffering from a monstrous cold, prompting Ezra to take a step back and cover his mouth with his sleeve. Jim pointed down the hall toward a display case.
    â€œStart down by the trophy cases and work your way back here. I’ll do the other end,” he said vacantly.
    Ezra hesitated, and then replied, “Right. Start down there, come back here. Got it.”
    Ezra’s mind wandered while he mopped the floor. He imagined the museum at night. He imagined chasing a thief dressed from head to toe in black. On the floor he swirled his mop in a slow figure eight, watching the frayed strands as they soaked up water and turned from light to dark gray. He smiled. This isn’t so bad, he thought.
    He looked up at the display case, which held trophies for basketball, baseball, and football, but none were won recently. There were also photos of the highlights from President Truman’s career, possibly an attempt by the administration to educate the students in the school’s namesake. Ezra, however, had never paid much attention to the case before that moment.
    In the corner of the case was a picture he had never noticed before. The picture was old and the edges worn, Ezra guessed it had been taken just after World War II. A caption read, “Harry S. Truman accepts sword created by the famous Masamune Okazaki as a symbol of peace and solidarity between Japan and the United States. Presenting the sword is Hatake Okazaki, descendent of the prolific sword maker.”
    â€œMasamune?” Ezra whispered to himself. “Hatake Okazaki?”
    â™¦
    Madison and Mason stood by the buses after school, deciding whether they would go straight home or take a detour to the Ancient Artifacts Museum.
    â€œEzra had some good ideas in math class today.”
    â€œYeah, and the whole class could