PART THE SECOND
Chapter the First of Part the Second
In which the narrative recounts acts from the life of Brendan McLish in Chicago, Illinois.
In his sermon, Father Morton explained at length how the Parable of the wise and foolish virgins in Matthew’s Gospel means that we have to be prepared to meet Jesus with our souls overflowing with devotion as the lamps of the wise virgins were overflowing with oil. Seated in the choir, Brendan felt a tap on his hand. It was Kit. Brendan turned up the palm of his hand so that Kit could write a message with his finger. The challenge of figuring out the message from feeling the traces on his hand was a welcome diversion to listening to the sermon. When Brendan understood the message: “Spill oil on Father Morton,” he struggled to keep a straight face, because Mrs. Pafko was on the lookout for any out-of-line behavior from the choirboys. Father Morton was not popular with the choristers because, although he was often smiling and laughing with people in the parish, he was formal and distant with them. Knowing that Miles would want to get the message, too, Brendan traced it into Mile’s hand. Miles giggled just enough to ensure that Mrs. Pafko would have words with him afterwards.
With the sermon over, it was almost time for the offertory anthem, one of Brendan’s favorite parts of the service that, at St. Dunstan’s, they called the Eucharist. Brendan’s head was still spinning with all the church words he was learning. Music was easy, church was harder. The priests and the people serving them wore colorful garments he had never imagined. But then Brendan had not dreamed he would ever wear a red cassock and a ruff around his neck. If the kids he knew from back home saw him dressed like that, they would eat him alive. Surrounded by boys dressed the same way, he didn’t feel so silly. After Father Morton made some announcements, Chet hauled the music stand into the choir and gave the sign to stand. John Kim, the Korean organist, was at the bench to accompany the piece. This anthem was a lively affair with a repeated refrain: “Let the peoples praise you O God, let all of the peoples praise you.” When first confronted with it, Brendan thought the syncopated rhythms a little beyond him but, with Luke’s help, he caught on quickly, and then suddenly, there was nothing to it. The anthem went well, keeping up a lively pace and Chet looked pleased. The Eucharist proceeded to the part that commemorated the Last Supper of Jesus. Mother Stephens, the assistant priest, chanted the dialogue with the congregation that led to the next thing the choir had to sing, the Sanctus. She sang in a pleasing soprano voice, quite a contrast to Father Morton, who sounded like a buzz saw and challenged the choirboys to keep a straight face. Being much more friendly to the choirboys than the rector, she was much better liked by them and they never made fun of her in church.
Even with the Eucharist ended, Brendan’s church day was far from over. The choir also had Evensong to prepare for and sing late in the afternoon. Brendan had never had so much church before, but it was worth it for the music, the friendship and the education. The makeshift chorister’s home schooling program left the suburban public school in the dust. The other boys were mostly easy to get along with and not only was Chet Maxson teaching Brendan much about music at rehearsals, but he also thrilled Brendan by taking him on as a piano student. He had already been served some delicious meals at the Maxsons’ ample house near the church in the company of other choristers.
A full-blown Sunday dinner was served in the underground social hall after the 11 o’clock Sunday Eucharist where the well-dressed parishioners ate in an uneasy coexistence with many homeless people who took advantage of the chance to have a free meal. At first, it was the uncouth ways of these people that effected Brendan the most, but as the weeks went by, Brendan became appalled over the realization that these people were locked out of the life that he still took for granted.
At the dinner, Brendan sat next to Luke Kenney as he often did. Brendan was surprised and flattered when it became apparent that the head chorister really wanted to be friends with him. Brendan had never been as comfortable with a boy near his age as he was with Luke. That was one factor. Another factor was that, although Luke was liked and respected by everybody, nobody else in the choir was his friend.
Brendan still felt distinguished wearing his navy-blue choir blazer. Until then, he had never thought he would like wearing a suit coat and a tie. The blazers made the choristers recognizable and Brendan and Luke were complimented a couple of times for their singing, but they also overheard a woman telling her companion that boychoirs were obsolete and she didn’t understand why this church should have one. Luke shrugged it off, but it bothered Brendan, perhaps because his parents had much the same attitude.
“Sorry Brendan,” said Luke when the two of them were walking back to the choir room after dinner to work on some of the music coming up so that Brendan could participate in the choir fully. “A lot of people like us a lot, but some don’t. Our detractors call us the pipsqueaks. Or male chauvinist piglets.”
“Oh.”
“We’re one of only three boychoirs in the whole state of Illinois, so I think we can believe in boys’ choirs and still be pro-feminist in everything else if we want to be.”
The two boys plowed their way through the wreck room that was living up to its name under the careful watch of two or three choir parents to the choir room. The shadows behind the filing cabinets looked larger and more ominous than usual.
“I still think there’s an entrance to a parallel world over there,” Brendan remarked.
“You’re reading too much science fiction.”
“So are you.”
“I know. That’s why I think you’re—right.”
Luke’s last word trailed off when he saw quite plainly that the shadows had, indeed, turned into a dark room beyond where the wall was supposed to be. Brendan followed his friends’s gaze.
“We’d better check this out,” said Brendan.
“We probably shouldn’t,” said Luke.
“I bet you can’t resist it,” Brendan countered as he looked through the opening.
“You’re reading too much science fiction.”
“I know. So are you.”
The two boys carefully approached the opening. In the darkness in front of him, Brendan gained the impression of a flagstone floor, a harp, piles of books and scattered bits of light. He felt safe enough to take a step inside.
“No monsters here—yet,” said Brendan.
Luke stepped in next to Brendan.
“Still no monsters—yet.”
The two boys stood close together as they surveyed the room. Three or four sparkling stones floated in spaces that hinted at being parts of invisible walls. If there was a ceiling, the boys could not see it. In the middle of the place were messy stacks of papers and piles of ancient-looking books.
“I don’t think we are in a secret store room in the basement of the church,” said Brendan, his voice wavering a bit.
“I don’t think we’re in Chicago at all,” said Luke.
Brendan went over to a stack of papers and picked up the top piece of paper. The crunchy sound of the paper, or whatever material it was, startled the boys. It was an odd-looking copy of music. Brendan hummed the melody a bit, trying to get the hang of it.
“What are you humming?” asked Luke.
“I don’t know. It’s kind of funny.”
“You can say that again. I haven’t heard any modern music that sounds like that.”
Luke picked up a paper music book and squinted at it in the dark. “Good God! This is Taverner’s Western Wind Mass! What it doing here?”
“Same thing the last piece of music was doing, I guess. Maybe someone knew we were working on it.”
Brendan sang the song “The Western Wind” that was the basis for the Mass setting that Chet had taught the choir:
Western wynde, when wilt thou blow,
The small raine down can raine.
Christ, if my love were in my armes
And I in my bedde again!
When Chet first taught the song, some of the boys made some wisecracks about the words, drawing an arch reminder from Chet that the world is full of beds and people who love each other.
When Brendan finished singing, Luke tapped him on the arm and moved his head in the direction of the harp. Looking in that direction, Brendan saw for himself that somebody was lurking in the darkness there.
“We came here in peace,” said Luke.
The person came closer and showed himself to be a fair-haired boy who seemed to be wearing a pair of pajamas with an interesting design printed on it in dull colors. He looked as if he expected Luke and Brendan to strike him in the face, or worse. At least Brendan didn’t think he had to worry about him and Luke getting hurt by him.
“How may I serve you?” asked the boy.
“What makes you think we’re going to boss you around?” asked Brendan.
“You’re wearing what looks like inheritors’ livery,” said the boy.
“Are you disinherited or something?” asked Luke.
The boy appeared to be genuinely puzzled by that question.
“Can’t you tell?” he asked.
Brendan understood the look in the boy’s face and knew the feeling.
“Yea, I can see that,” said Brendan.
“Are you from somewhere in Mastruum?” the boy asked.
Luke and Brendan looked at each other and tacitly agreed that they were both reading too much science fiction.
“No-o-o,” said Luke. “Do you know where America is?”
“No. Last time I came here, I met a boy from another world. His name is Danzigger. He said he was a Baschi.”
“We haven’t met him,” said Luke. “It seems that this might be a place where people from different worlds can meet.”
“That’s what I think,” said the boy.
“I’m Luke and my friend is Brendan,” said Luke. “What’s your name?”
“Kyle.”
“We were looking at the music on the top of these piles here,” said Brendan.
“Do you mean that these papers have music written out on them?”
“Yes,” said Brendan. “Didn’t you know?”
“I can’t read—anything,” said Kyle miserably. “I’m not allowed to sing or to read or anything.”
“Who says you can’t sing?” Luke asked him.
“Everybody—except Danzigger.”
“We’ll let you sing, if you want to,” said Luke. “We just found the music to a piece we’re learning for a concert. It’s a really neat piece. Come over and follow along as we sing it. This mass is a theme and variations, so if we learn this first bit, we’ve won half the battle.”
Kyle walked over cautiously as if he was still afraid Luke or Brendan might do something awful to him. Luke sang the first phrases of the Gloria and then all three boys sang it. Already Brendan was looking forward to the concert when the choir would sing it. The wide-eyed expression on Kyle’s face, however, was a bit unnerving.
“What’s the matter?” Brendan asked him. “Don’t you like it?”
“I—I like it a lot. Better than anything I’ve heard. But—I seem to—I seem to know how the music goes by just by looking at it! That’s reading isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Luke replied.
“And the words say ‘peace in the world,’ or something like it?”
“Then you know Latin!” Luke exclaimed.
“What’s Latin?”
Brendan and Luke exchanged puzzled glances.
“Something weird is going on here,” said Luke. “I’m awfully glad that, somehow, you can read this music. Want to sing a bit more of it?”
“Yea,” said Kyle with a look of a starving child.
With Luke taking the lead, the three boys sang through several lines of the treble part. Brendan found himself hard pressed to keep up with the other boys and when they sang it a second time, Kyle seemed to take the lead, singing with perfect accuracy. When they came to the end of the section, a large spot on the wall opposite them lit up with a shower of sparks. Brendan and Luke shrank back, but nothing bad seemed to happen.
“Gosh! This place is strange!” said Brendan.
“It doesn’t appear harmful,” said Luke dubiously.
“I don’t think it will hurt you,” said Kyle. “The first bit of sparks appeared when I sang in here the first time.”
“As well it should,” said Luke.
“I don’t think it was me,” said Kyle.
“Kyle,” said Luke, “judging by what I have heard, any sensible magical room would light up a lot of sparks in response to your singing. If they won’t let you sing in your world, you can come into our world any time. I’m sure Chet will want you in the choir.”
“What? You mean that? I—I don’t understand.”
“He’s trying to tell you that you’re the best singer we’ve ever heard,” said Brendan. “We’d love to have you.”
The incredulous look on Kyle’s face told Brendan and Luke volumes about the kind of society the boy must be living in. Curious about the sparks that had just lit up, Brendan walked over to get a closer look. It appeared that three large stones were sparkling to the music of the Western Wind Mass, but what really made Brendan’s jaw drop was the words inscribed in the stone in fiery gold letters.
“Get a load of this!” Brendan cried out.
Luke and Kyle joined Brendan and their jaws dropped just as much. Luke was the first to recover enough to read the words:
MERITHWELL WILL RETURN TO LIFE WHEN BOYS SING THE STONES BACK INTO BEING WITH HEARTS BROKEN FOR THE LOVE OF SINGING
“What’s that about?” asked Kyle.
“My guess is that it means that Merithwell is the name of this place and when we sing, more stones will appear to build this place up again,” said Luke.
“And that’s what happened when we sang a bit of the Western Wind Mass,” said Brendan.
“That’s what happened when Danzigger and I sang here, too,” said Kyle.
“Then we’ll have to get together a lot more times,” said Brendan. “Unless you want to come with us now and join the choir. We have to practice for Evensong right now.”
“I hope that isn’t five weeks ago already,” said Luke. “We’d better get going. Coming, Kyle?”
“Not now,” said Kyle uncertainly.
Brendan thought maybe he should just nab Kyle, but there wasn’t time to think through on that. To the relief of both boys, they heard Chet Maxson’s familiar voice as they reached the filing cabinets and stepped around them.
“The Matthias was awfully good,” said Chet. “You had it bouncing off the walls just the way I wanted it to—Ah! There you are, Brendan and Luke; I was beginning to fear that you had gotten lost in the seventeenth dimension of reality—Unfortunately, the Sanctus got off to a very good start but then it went limp. That is to say, a good beginning must be sustained or you will lose what you started with. Now, look first at Sumsion in A. Trebles, note that you take the lead here with the lower parts answering you in the opening section. I want the music to move gracefully, but with energy—Craig stop pinching Michael’s ear—and don’t let the deceptive simplicity fool you. It will take much concentration to sustain the effect once you get started with it.”
Brendan’s head was spinning so hard that he almost couldn’t concentrate on the music at first, but he did the best he could. All he could think about was the boy Kyle and how he probably should have brought him back when he had the chance. When the rehearsal ended and it was time to vest for Evensong, Luke tapped Brendan on the arm.
“We have a lot to talk about as soon as we get a chance,” said Luke.
“Yea.”
“Want to stay the night at my house?”
“Yea.”
Proceed to Chapter the Second of Part the Second