Chapter 13
I was sure I was a goner. Being sure I was a goner didn’t stop me from trying to swim in the direction of the ship and hope that whoever was on it would pull me out of the etheric depths. I still couldn’t get used to moving in something that felt like water in every way except that it wasn’t wet and I could breathe in it. To my surprise, I found myself singing yet again. I don’t know what I hoped to accomplish by that. I suppose it was just a way to keep from going totally crazy. I’m sure I wasn’t singing well enough for anybody else to want to hear it. I was mostly singing fragments of songs, just as our ship was all in pieces. I don’t know if it was my singing that caused this or not, but a piece of ship, or something, suddenly crashed into me, and just about knocked the wind out of me. I wrapped my arms around it sooner than I knew I’d done it. When I felt vibrations in the piece of wreckage that almost felt like my song, I was pretty sure I’d gotten a hold of a ship of our ship. As soon as I got my wind back, I started singing the song I’d made up for our ship. Before long, I thought I heard the sound of a harp, and then heard the sound of drums. Even without any prompting on my part, the piece of boat started toward the harp’s sound, but then it jerked back toward the drumming.
“Make up your mind!” I told the board.
“Make up your mind,” said the same grumbly voice I’d heard before.
It sounded like I was the one being told to make up my mind. I listened again for the sound of harp and drum. I heard the drumming first. It was getting louder, but then I heard the harping. It sounded desperate, and I was pretty sure it was coming from the opposite direction. That could mean only one thing. That’s when I made up my mind.
As soon as I directed my song toward Mirry and his harp, my ship’s piece propelled me in that direction. I felt a gentle nudge behind me that startled the daylights out of me. The pair of big round eyes looking at me scared me even more, but then I saw the large flippers of a manatee-hippo. It was giving me a boost! I didn’t know why these creatures were so friendly, but I wasn’t about to look a gift-hippo-manatee in the mouth. The harp sound got louder. A low humming that vibrated through the piece of boat I clung to seemed to answer it as much as my song did. At last, I saw a hand wave at me and heard a high-pitched voice cry out to me. The manatee-hippo moved off after having given me so much momentum that I almost flew past my target. A hand got a hold of the tip of my cape just in time and pulled me back. Next thing I knew, I was being all but smothered by a couple of sobbing lumps of humanity.
“I knew you’d come,” Mirry choked.
“I knew you’d come,” Denny repeated.
But it wasn’t Denny; it was Maranissa.
“How did you know I’d come?” I asked.
“Because you’re Nathaniel Hawthorne Brown, that’s why,” said Maranissa.
“Where are Charles and Pollo?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Maranissa answered. “I lost them, and they lost me as soon as our boat broke up. Boiling broths! Something’s coming!”
Mirry screamed. When I realized that a ship was coming toward us, I couldn’t see the problem. It seemed a good idea for us to be rescued.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“It’s Master Galleon!” Mirry bawled. “He left me behind when he took Denny!”
Then I saw the problem. I couldn’t take the chance that Mirry might be left behind all alone if Master Galleon just took me and Maranissa. Besides, I didn’t want to put myself in the clutches of that man after what he did in the Archives of Gifted Lore.
“Guild of Gifted Healers Guildhall,” I sang.
Almost instantly, I felt a firm floor under my butt. Mirry clung to me like a lost puppy and Maranissa had her arms around us both like a desperate mother.
“Where are the others?” Lucy shouted in my ear.
“I don’t know,” I mumbled.
The walls of the guildhall swam about in my head.
“Did you get the inscription?” Lucy asked.
Mirry reached in under his cape and pulled out the piece of bark. He had it!
“What!” Lucy yelled. “You lost half of it! Nathaniel, why didn’t you make sure he had the whole thing?!”
My heart sank when Mirry handed me the piece of bark and I saw for myself the tattered edge on one side and each line broken off.
“Denny has the rest,” Mirry sobbed, “and Master Galleon has Denny.”
“And where is Masteress Olivia Oldham?”
That was the blustery voice of Master Medwick. I looked about the Hall desperately for Masteress Oldham, but she was not there. Several other members of the Guild materialized around the three of us and many others shimmered in as an etheric image. I looked about desperately for my father, but he wasn’t there, either. I was stuck with Master Medwick right in my face.
“To judge by the look of things, Nathaniel,” said Master Medwick, “you made a perfect catastrophe out of your ill-advised mission. What do you have to say for yourself?”
I tried to answer the question, but my throat choked up and I couldn’t.
“Our boat broke apart,” Maranissa answered for me, “and it wasn’t Nathaniel’s fault. I’m sure it’s because the inscription got torn and then the boys got separated. Denny wasn’t with Mirry when I found him. That must have confused the boat over what direction it was supposed to go.”
“Ma-Master Galleon took Denny and—left me,” Mirry sobbed.
“And then Nathaniel rescued the two of us,” said Maranissa.
“That’s artfully good work under the circumstances,” said Preston.
“But now Pollo and Charles and Masteress Oldham are all lost, it seems,” Lucy complained.
I nodded.
“Well, I will not authorize another wasted mission to find missing people only to lose more than you find, and I hope nobody else in this guild thinks otherwise.”
“By all appearances, the quest is lost,” said Masteress Jakelyn, hardly concealing her satisfaction over that turn of events.
“I wouldn’t trust these appearances too much,” Master McDermott cautioned.
I looked again for my father, but I still couldn’t see him. Maybe it was just as well for him not to see my disgrace, but I was getting worried really about him.
“Given this last turn of events, and noting the great needs that require the work of the Guild of Gifted Healers,” said Master Medwick, “I declare the healing quest of Nathaniel Hawthorne Brown is ended. This rebellious apprentice will now take his rightful place in the Academy, and will rejoin the Boys’ Choir of Gifted Singers when the pestilence is ended, if there is still a choir left by then.”
I could hardly believe my ears. After all the trouble I’d gone to help these guys, they were throwing me out like a worn-out dish rag. Mirry leaped to his feet, his lip trembling with rage.
“Nathaniel saved me and Maranissa from the etheric depths!” he yelled. “How can you doubt that he will yet succeed in his healing quest?”
“Nathaniel saved me and Mirry from the etheric depths!” Maranissa yelled, not to be outdone by Mirry. “How can you doubt that he will yet succeed in his healing quest?”
“Have none of you any appreciation of what Nathaniel has done for you?” Lucy yelled. “Don’t you realize that Nathaniel has accomplished more in a shorter time in our combat with the pestilence than the rest of the whole Guild put together?”
“All that Nathaniel has accomplished is to double the pestilenced cared-fors, including the entire Boys’ Choir of Gifted Singers, and get the Guild of Gifted Healers banned from more households and more guild halls than any Gifted Healer has ever managed to do in all Gifted history!” cried Master Medwick.
“Wouldn’t the light on Nathaniel’s cape clasp go out if the quest was over?” asked Maranissa.
“You are an observant girl,” said Master McDermott. “The light on cape clasp and it’s light. The quest is not lost.”
“I’ll see to that,” said Master Medwick.
When he moved his fingers over my cape clasp, I felt like a couple of snakes were crawling at my neck. To my useless satisfaction, Master Medwick’s fiddling didn’t make the light didn’t go out.
“It will dim in due time,” said Master Medwick. “I will now take you to the Academy.”
“I will take charge of Nathaniel Hawthorne Brown,” said a woman who hadn’t spoken before.
It was Masteress Goldenaro who had spoken up. Quite a lot of murmuring greeted that announcement.
“Whatever for?” asked Master Medwick.
“To help him make the best use of his Singing Gift, of course,” said Masteress Goldenaro.
“Hasn’t Nathaniel proven how dangerous and destructive his Singing Gift is?” asked Master Medwick.
“We do not have time to argue if our pestilenced cared-fors are to be tended to,” Masteress Goldenaro replied calmly.
Master Medwick and Masteress Goldenaro held a long, hard staring contest. It was a draw.
“Keep him on a short leash,” Master Medwick demanded, his eyes still riveted on Masteress Goldenaro. “If this stenching brat sings any more cracks in our care of the pestilenced, I will take full charge of him.”
“I hope you are not worried that Nathaniel and his friends might yet deliver the Gifted World from the strangling pestilence,” said Masteress Goldenaro.
“I am not the least bit worried about that,” Masteress Jakelyn retorted.
With the matter settled, for the time being at least, most of the guild members evaporated after that, leaving me and my friends with just Masteress Goldenaro, Master McDermott, Preston, and Lucy.
“What do you want to do next?” Masteress Goldenaro asked me.
I didn’t know what to say, since I didn’t know what to do. Thinking and fretting about Pollo and Charles made me think of the other boys in the choir.
“How are the sick boys doing?” I asked Preston.
“They are hanging on,” said Preston, looking very grim.
“Can I visit them?” I asked.
“Sure,” said Preston. “They feel quite abandoned, which they are. It will be good if you come to see them.”
“After that, I think we should go to my harp teacher, Master Terman, and see if he will help us,” Mirry suggested.
“That is a sound plan of action,” said Masteress Goldenaro.
“What about Pollo and Charles?” I asked.
“I think you can serve them best by learning the healing chant as soon as possible,” said Masteress Goldenaro.
Just as Masteress Goldenaro said those words, a piece of paper appeared in the air and floated between us. Preston snatched it and read it, his lips pursed with anger.
“It says: ‘Pollo Mansrat and Charles Worthington will remain with me as enforced guests until my son Denny is returned to me,’” Preston read.
“From Denny’s mother, I assume?” Maranissa asked.
“Of course,” said Preston.
“Should we rescue them first, now that we know where they are?” I asked.
“No,” said Mirry. “They should be safe enough for the time being. Denny’s mother wants her son back; she doesn’t want two etherically injured boys on her hands. So, I still think we should visit Master Terman after seeing Nathaniel’s father and the other boys.”
“There is something we have to tell you before you go anywhere else,” said Master McDermott, sounding too serious for my tastes.
“What?” I asked in some alarm.
“Your father was pestilenced while you were away,” said Master McDermott sadly.
My stomach plunged down to the bottom of the world.
“Then—can I see him first?” I asked.
“Of course,” said Masteress Goldenaro. “So, we know the next three steps to take. We shall meet after you see Master Terman, and then we shall decide our next step after that. Preston, can you take Nathaniel and his friends to his father’s ward and then to the choristers’ cottage?”
“Of course,” said Preston.
A moment later, Preston, Mirry and Maranissa appeared at my dad’s bed in the middle of a large ward. As far as I could see in both directions, people wearing capes of all colors were languishing on beds and breathing with great difficulty. Purple capes were flying about all up and down the place as my fellow guild members tried to care for them. One of the Gifted Healers looked at me and my friends and frowned. Among the pestilenced was the old Gifted Mystic I’d met in the Archives of Gifted Lore sitting cross-legged a foot above his cot. In the beds next to his were an old pale woman and a young dark-skinned boy of the same guild. They, too, were sitting cross-legged in the air, and their breathing, too, was labored. I focused on my dad. Seeing him look so sick was quite a shock. He was making a huge effort just to take his next breath. I could see why this was called the strangling pestilence. Dad opened his eyes and recognized me.
“Do you—have—the healing—substance?” he said through his wheezing.
“No,” I sobbed. “I’ve tried so hard. The music inscription is torn. Masteress Oldham is gone. Master Medwick has ended my quest.”
My father looked deeply troubled at those words.
“Your—light,” he said.
“Nathaniel is not giving up his quest as long as I have anything to say about it,” said Maranissa in a tone of voice that I wouldn’t want to argue with.
“And I’m helping him,” said Mirry.
“Good,” my father gasped.
“Don’t try to talk anymore,” I said, seeing his difficulty. “I’ll find a way to cure you and everybody else.”
“You—are—singing?” father asked, disregarding what I’d just said.
“Yes, I was singing in the boys’ choir, but the choirmaster wouldn’t help me. And—you couldn’t get there to hear me in the choir.”
“Sing.”
With a horrible lump in my throat, I realized this might be my father’s only chance to hear me sing if I didn’t succeed in my quest soon. I put myself together as best I could, which was still pretty jumbled, and sang one of the hymns I’d learned in choir. After a little while, I heard a harp accompany me. I was surprised that I could remember the hymn as well as I did. Throughout the hymn, I held my father’s hand tightly.
“I should have—encouraged you—to sing,” said my father when I finished the hymn.
To my surprise, he seemed to be breathing a bit better than before.
“Thank you—for singing,” said an old woman lying on the next bed over.
She, also, appeared to be breathing more easily, as did other people in the ward.
For quite some time I kept my hand wrapped around my father’s, and I wished I could just stay there, but I knew that holding his hand wasn’t going to cure him. With one last squeeze and a promise to make the healing substance he needed, I stepped back to where Preston and my friends were waiting.
A few dizzying seconds later, the four of us were standing in the sleeping loft of the cottage. Seeing the boys for myself was even worse than the phantom faces I saw in the etheric depths, because this was real life and not my fearful imagination. The beds looked small and seedy, as if the they, too, were affected by their occupants’ weakness. Dominic lay on the floor in the middle of the room, looking as gloomy as if he were pestilenced himself. He rose to his feet and walked slowly over to me to receive a pat on his head.
“You—pest—ilenced—us,” one boy accused me.
It was Lorisal. That figured, except that had me wondering why Denson had left him at the cottage where he could get sick. I saw then that Carl, too, was languishing in the loft, also forsaken by Denson.
“Did—not,” wheezed another boy.
It was Tomko. He didn’t look like he’d ever have the energy to throw another fireball.
“Broke—shield,” said Stanley. He looked like we would never smile or laugh again.
“Nathaniel and I and Pollo and Charles left to get the inscription of the healing chant that would cure all of you,” said Mirry.
“Maybe—shield broken—when guys left,” Meredith gasped, “but would not—have happened—if Master—helped quest.”
It was pretty obvious that if the boys weren’t so sick, they’d be fighting with each about me. Mirry played a few chords on his harp. Several boys looked at me expectantly, but a few winced, and Lorisal clapped his hands over his ears. Encouraged by the effect of my singing in my father’s ward, I started to sing a new made-up version of the willow Song that led me to the inscription in the Archives of Gifted Lore. The harp sound got richer as I went along and I heard some soft drumming as well. I so lost myself in the song, I almost forgot where I was until I finished it and tuned back to the faces of the boys. I hoped it wasn’t just my deluded imagination that made me think they appeared to be breathing easier. Then I noticed that Rusentel was resting his drum on his belly and that Peter was holding his harp. Dominic seemed to have perked up, too. He was loping about the loft, nosing at Rusentel and the other boys.
“That helped,” said Meredith.
To my surprise, he snatched a piece of paper and a pen from under his pillow and began to do some writing.
“I’m not so scared,” said Bursen.
“You’ll save us,” said Peter.
Lorisal still had his hands over his ears, but even he seemed to be breathing a little better.
“Nathaniel is going to learn the healing chant from my harp teacher,” Mirry announced, “and then we’re going to get the windmere willow’s blossom that we need, and then we’ll heal all of you.”
“Ye-e-e-a,” the boys cheered weakly.
“Ready to visit my harp master?” Mirry asked.
“Go for it,” I said.
Mirry brought his cape over my head and Maranissa’s for the journey. A few seconds later, I heard the sounds of many musical instruments and several voices, most of them playing and singing different things. It was kind of like hearing my school orchestra back home tune up. The thing that was really strange about this trip was that I felt that the different bits of music were pushing me away from one thing to another. In the midst of all that noise, I heard a harp chord loud and clear, and then another. Those harp chords seemed to open up a hole somewhere because I sensed some movement. Another harp sounded, this one quite awkwardly.
“No,” said a man, “that’s not quite right.”
“I keep try—. . . A-a-a-h!”
When Mirry pulled his cape away, I saw a bearded man sitting with a girl at his feet. The girl shrank back and clutched her harp to her chest.
“Mirry!” the man cried, looking like he was seeing a ghost. “I thought you were pestilenced with the other choirboys!”
“No, Master Terman, I was away helping Nathaniel with his healing quest,” Mirry answered proudly.
“What?!” the harp teacher exploded when he saw me with him. “What is a Gifted Healer doing here when the whole Guild has been banned from the Academy?!”
The girl with the little harp crawled to the door, looking at me as if I was the face of Death, then jumped to her feet and ran away. The room finally came into focus for me. The thing that caught my eye the most was a large ink drawing of an old harpist hanging on the wall across from me. Off in a far corner, there was a work bench with a harp on it and pieces of other instruments. Master Terman was sitting on something that looked like a beanbag, and there was a light green rug on a wooden floor. A woman with silky hair down to her waist entered the room followed by a young man with a violin in his hand.
“Mirry!” cried the woman, her face lighting up. “Here you are, and looking so healthy!”
“There you are!” a woman yelled as she materialized, pointing a long finger at Mirry. “You didn’t even come straight home to your clan house!” Then she turned on me and her finger grew several more inches. “And how dare you steal my son?”
Some half dozen men and a couple of more women, all wearing yellow capes, appeared beside and behind Mirry’s mother. None of them looked happy with me. I froze, like I usually do when somebody yells at me like that.