Chapter the Fifth of Part the Third

In which the narrative recounts acts from the life of Tel Arman in Baschdynn.

“How are the patients today?” Tel Arman heard a boy ask.

Terrible, Tel Arman wanted to say, but he could hardly move, much as he wished to escape the cold lumpy ground supporting his body. His stomach growled from lack of food as nothing offered him in this place came in imperial packets. Outside Danzigger’s room, the world was so nightmarish that Tel Arman would could not face it. When he asked what all the strange sights were, he was told that it was earth and grass and trees and that the furry things were lashampas and they furnished food and clothing to the Baschi. No wonder the food had nothing in common with imperial food. Everything about this world was in rebellion against the Empire and Tel Arman was helpless to do anything about it.

“Pir Min is doing better,” Danzigger answered. “Tel Arman is much slower at getting better. His wounds are very deep in his spirit. I think something about him is fighting the healing. I wish I knew what it is. How are you? I think you said you might have trouble for coming to Merithwell the time we saved these two.”

“We lucked out. As it turned out, not too much time passed in our world while we were with you, so my folks thought Brendan and I were just taking our time.”

“That is good.”

Tel Arman wished desperately that he cold strike Danzigger on the mouth for blaming him for not healing as well as the rebel Pir Min did. The reason he was healing more slowly was because Danzigger was trying harder to heal Pir Min. The boys first pulled Pir Min out of the rubble and into the rebels’ den before they pulled him out. Then they tortured his ears with rebel music until his body could take no more and he blacked out. No wonder he was not healing well. Tel Arman felt a light hand on his shoulder.

“Can you talk?”

“A little,” Pir Min answered before Tel Arman could say anything.

Tel Arman decided he would not talk since the boys really wanted to talk to the rebel but not to him.

“We just came to see how you are doing. We all come from different worlds and healing is different in those worlds and we are trying to figure out what is best for you.”

“I still hurt very much,” said Pir Min, “but much less than before. Danzigger and Maranzigga are helping me.”

“It does look that way.”

Because Danzigger was healing Pir Min faster than he was healing Tel Arman, Pir Min had the advantage of telling the boys how evil the Empire was while Tel Arman was too weak to set the boys straight about the Empire’s greatness. Tel Arman had been forced to listen helplessly to Pir Min tell the boys who came to visit about how he and the other rebels were innocently trying to live their own lives when they were attacked by the Empire. At the time of the attack, Pir Min was singing in a choir for what he called a “Gathering,” where people came together to ask their Emperor to strengthen them and fulfill their needs. Tel Arman assumed that Pir Min was talking about the rebel emperor who was pictured in their rebel stronghold. Right when he and the other boys were singing to their emperor, the building exploded. Danzigger, however, told him that the Empire should not have attacked Pir Min and his friends.

“We’ve been wondering if it is worth while trying to get into your world to see if anything is left and if anyone can help you there,” said the other boy.

“I don’t think so,” said Pir Min. “I’m sure my family and friends were all killed. And I do not want to get into the hands of the Empire.”

Then Pir Min burst into tears over all those who had been killed. Tel Arman wished he could tear up Pir Min’s insides with a laser rifle. Some time earlier, when Tel Arman had regained his voice enough to accuse Pir Min of blowing up the Imperial Festive Auditorium, Pir Min had cried then, too, pretending to be upset about what he and the other rebels had done.

“You can stay here with the Baschi if you like,” said one of the visiting boys, “and you can come to our world if you like. My parents are useless, but Luke’s parents will take you, or Chet and Martha Maxson will take you. We’ll find a way to make identification papers for you and everything. Mark wants you to go to his world. That might be good, too. Mark thinks that the guy who runs the house where he stays will take you. Dunsland warned us about taking either of you to his world. Somebody might turn you into a turnip or something. Kyle’s world is awful so you can’t go there. I don’t know why he keeps going back there himself. We’ll probably have to rescue him one of these days, and I have a sneaky suspicion we’ll have to rescue Polnar and Passenell from that temple where they’re singers.”

“Sometimes I wonder about our world,” said the other boy, “but we’ll do our best if you come with us.”

“I like it here,” said Pir Min. “I think I want to visit you and sing with you when I am better.”

“Would it help if we sang now?”

“Yes.”

Tel Arman wanted to yell “No!” but after pretending to be unconscious all that time, he couldn’t very well do that and so he was forced to listen to Danzigger play his horrible instrument while he and the other two boys sang a rebel song with the same words as the song the boys sang before their building was blown up. Once again he had to endure listening to the line “He hath put down the mighty from their seat,” that obviously expressed hatred of the righteous rule of the Empire. Worse, Tel Arman knew he would not be able to get this rebel tune out of his head any more than he could all the others that had destroyed his life. And yet, much as the rebel music frayed his nerves, the pain in his body seemed to be less for the singing than it was before the boys came to see him.

“Those words are familiar,” said Pir Min. “We sang them at our Gatherings.”

“You did?”

“Yes, did they come from your world? Or did you get them from us?”

“We think the words come from our world but some people think that Jesus came from some other planet, so maybe the words come from your world after all. We’ll keep that open.”

“These words I have not heard sung in our world, but I like them,” said Danzigger. “I know the spirits do not like it when one person tries to be too high above other people. We have troubles right now among the Baschi because a man wants to be a chief when he is not a chief and so many people have gone with him. Now there is fighting between those people and the people who stayed with our chief.”

“I’m beginning to think all worlds are alike,” said one of the boys. “What’s happening with you happens with us all the time.”

Tel Arman drifted off into a genuine sleep about then. When he next awoke, it was to the touch of somebody else, Malcoomb. Danzigger and Pir Min seemed not to be around. Tel Arman hoped they would stay away.

“Here’s some midday eating,” said Malcoomb as he handed Tel Arman an imperial food packet. “That’s what you call it, isn’t it?”

“Yes, how do you know?”

“I can get inside your mind and find out what you want, and I know how to cast a spell to create what you want.”

Tel Arman gulped down the contents of the packet. He felt better already.

“Do you know that I want to get out of here?” Tel Arman asked Malcoomb.

“Of course I know you want to get out of here. I couldn’t stand to be in the same tent with Danzigger and Pir Min for two snaps of the fingers, so why should you? I would have taken you away sooner but I had to strengthen you with my spells first. I think now you are just strong enough for me to take you over to my world.”

Once again, Malcoomb was the only boy who was showing him any understanding.

“Then do we go now?” Tel Arman asked.

“Yes, we go now.”

Malcoomb carefully brought Tel Arman to his feet and steadied him until he was ready to walk. Malcoomb cast a strengthening spell that gave Tel Arman a burst of energy and then Malcoomb brought him through the cloth wall of Danzigger’s room into Merithwell. It turned out to be quite a crowded place and Malcoomb seemed to be as startled by the number of boys gathered there as Tel Arman was. All of the boys Tel Arman had seen come visit Pir Min were there and many more besides.

“I was hoping you could bring Tel Arman here,” said Dunsland who was sitting at a reading desk with a manuscript spread across it.

“Why would you want Tel Arman here?” Malcoomb asked.

“Because I found a story about this place that everybody should hear.”

“Why should we hear it?”

Tel Arman, much practiced at noting the reactions of others could see quite clearly that Malcoomb was alienating most of the other boys. Malcoomb seemed not to notice it or he didn’t care. Tel Arman knew that was not a good thing.

“Because it gives us information about Merithwell,” said Dunsland. “If you really aren’t interested, you can always go back to your room at the Academy and stay there.”

“I think we should listen to this,” Tel Arman said to Malcoomb, as it was obvious to Tel Arman that they should know everything about this mysterious place that the other boys knew.

A jangling sound signaled the entrance of Danzigger, who was followed by Pir Min. It was clear to Tel Arman that he would never have been brought to Dunsland’s reading if it were up to Danzigger to bring him there with the way Pir Min had turned Danzigger against the Empire.

“I found this manuscript today while going through these papers here,” said Dunsland. “Maybe it doesn’t mean anything, but maybe it does. I’m amazed you all showed up when all I did was sing a little song inviting you to come if you could hear me.”

Tel Arman hadn’t heard anything and so he assume Dunsland didn’t care if he came or not. If Malcoomb hadn’t fetched him, he would be languishing in Danzigger’s terrifying world all alone while all the other boys heard about what Dunsland had found.

“This manuscript has the heading: ‘The Fall and Rise of Merithwell,’” Dunsland announced.

“Is it about the words on that stone over there?” asked Mark.

“Yes,” said Dunsland. “The words of prophecy come from this manuscript.”

“What does the manuscript say?” asked Kyle, another boy who fussed over Pir Min and couldn’t care less about Tel Arman.

Dunsland cleared his voice.

“‘The Fall of Merithwell. It is with a heavy heart that I, Merrill Stanward, leave this ruined place and return to my own world. But first, I leave my harp, these writings of music on parchment and these words in the hope that a day will come when boys will return to this place and sing together so that the second story of Merithwell will have a different and more glorious outcome than the first.’”

“Does that mean that this place was so dark because it was destroyed?” asked Brendan.

“Yes,” said Dunsland. “This manuscript tells of the destruction.”

Then Dunsland resumed his reading:

“‘A time was when Merithwell was a flourishing center for the study of music between seven worlds where all who came could understand the spoken and written communications of each other. There were many towers and in these towers could be heard ensembles of many instruments from the seven worlds and many choirs from the seven worlds. Among the choirs was a choir of boys who gathered from all seven worlds. As did the other groups of performers, the boys of Merithwell, as they called themselves, built a tower where they could practice together and from which they could go out to sing in all seven worlds. The boys agreed that they would create singing stones, stones that collected the songs from the seven worlds, and they would build the tower out of the singing stones.

“And so they did. They boys created singing stones from the seven worlds and brought them to the place in Merithwell where they were going to build their tower. But when the boys came together, one boy wanted to place his singing stone in one location and then a second boy wanted to put his stone in the same place. While these two boys were arguing, other boys also decided that they also wanted to put their singing stones in the location claimed by the first boy until all seven boys were arguing for the right to place their singing stone in the location that they all coveted. The argument grew so fierce that one boy threw his singing stone at another boy and that boy threw his singing stone at the boy who had thrown his stone at him and then all of the boys threw their stones at one another until every boy was badly injured and all of the singing stones were gone. Then the boys blamed each other for starting the fight and they fought over who was to blame. As they argued with one another, the boys lost the ability to understand the speech of one another.

“‘At the time when the boys were throwing stones at each other, the singers and instrumentalists and composers and scholars of music decided that they wanted to move their towers to the place where the boy singers had torn down their tower and so they tore down their towers and brought their stones to the place where the boys were throwing stones at each other. All of these musicians fell into doing what the boys had done and they destroyed their stones by throwing them at each other and then they fought over who was to blame for the fight and the destruction of the towers of Merithwell. They, too, lost the ability to understand the speech of one another. The arguing did not bring even one stone to life and so Merithwell was plunged into darkness. As one of the boys who fought with the other boys when we should have been building our tower, I leave this prophecy and this hope:

MERITHWELL WILL RETURN TO LIFE WHEN BOYS SING THE STONES BACK INTO BEING WITH HEARTS BROKEN FOR THE LOVE OF SINGING.’”

The boys were silent for some time after Dunsland finished reading the manuscript.

“I was wondering why we understand each other’s speech when we must all speak totally different languages,” said Luke.

“I don’t understand how that happens,” said Dunsland, “but it is certain the Merithwell has a way to make that happen.”

“Maybe that’s why I can read words and music here when I am not supposed to be able to read anything,” Kyle mused.

“Why should we understand each other now if the other boys couldn’t do it?” asked Mark.

“Chet, our choirmaster, teaches us to listen to each other when we sing,”said Luke, “and maybe we’re listening to each other.”

“Kyle’s heart was breaking for the love of singing when I first heard him sing here,” said Danzigger, “and I heard hearts breaking for the love of singing when the rest of you came and sang here.”

Tel Arman’s felt that his heart was breaking over the loss of the imperial songs lost when the Empire was shattered by the rebels, but that did not seem to be what the prophecy was all about.

“Our teachers don’t really believe that the man we call the First Preacher really came from a different world,” said Mark, “because they don’t believe there are other worlds that people like the First Preacher could have come from. But if the stuff Dunsland read is true, then it is possible after all that the First Preacher came from a different world.”

“It would be just like Christianity to send missionaries into other worlds if given the chance,” said Luke.

“And that’s probably how we got the same song called ‘My Soul doth magnify the Lord’ in our world,” said Pir Min.

“If singing builds up this place,” said Mark, “I say we should all sing while we’re here together.”

Tel Arman squirmed inside at the idea of having to listen to more rebel music.

“What will we sing?” asked Polnar.

“I like the song ‘The Western Wind,’” said Kyle.

“The song ‘My Soul doth Magnify the Lord,’ is easier,’” said Peete, “and I know it better.”

“We could try singing both at the same time,” said Mark, “and see how that goes.”

“Poor Orlando Gibbet,” said Luke with a smile. “The Mass setting based on the ‘Western Wind’ is contrapuntal, so I guess it’s okay for us to be contrapuntal, too.”

“What do you mean?” asked Mark.

“Basically, contrapuntal means singing different melodies at the same time in such a way that they sound good,” Luke explained.

Tel Arman wanted to get away to Malcoomb’s world without having to endure the singing, but he knew that he and Malcoomb would turn everybody against them and that might lead to the boys subjecting the two of them to a word bomb just as the other cadets had done to him before they were all killed by the rebel attack. Tel Arman was inclined to sing “My Soul doth Magnify the Lord” because it was a bit easier, but Malcoomb was singing “The Western Wind,” as was Dunsland, and so Tel Arman struggled with that song until, after several repetitions, he could manage it.

Early on in the singing, new stones, filled with light flickering to the music, appeared. And then after the boys had been singing for some time, a star appeared in the dark above the boys. It flickered, then dropped down close to the boys. Its explosion temporarily enveloped Danzigger and Pir Min in its flame. Tel Arman hoped that the two boys had been vaporized as if hit by a laser missile, but the flame subsided into a large piece of wall composed of more singing stones and Danzigger and Pir Min looked healthier and stronger than ever. Worse than that, Tel Arman knew that one more rebel piece was twisting inside of him like a drill press and he was not going to be able to get it out of his head.

Proceed to Chapter the Sixth of Part the Third

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