Chapter the Fourth of Part the Fourth
In which the narrative recounts acts from the life of Brendan McLish in Chicago, Illinois.
“As with Victoria’s Christmas motet,” Chet Maxson explained to the boys, “getting the optimal effect of his Ave Maria requires creating an ambience for it. Do you remember what I mean by ‘ambience?’ Brendan?”
“It’s the space surrounding the music,” Brendan answered, “like creating a giant cathedral with the notes.”
Brendan wanted to add that ambience was like singing in Merithwell, but he couldn’t tell that to Chet or the other boys. Brendan knew he was mostly repeating what Chet said at Christmas time, but he thought he owned the words, too. Recalling the Christmas motet by Victoria that the boys sang at the midnight service on Christmas Eve reminded Brendan of the holiday with its terrible and wonderful memories. His parents threatened to ruin the season by expressing their outrage that his duties as a chorister included a midnight service on Christmas Eve and his aunt and uncle asked him to vacate his room for the sake of holiday visitors. In the end, Brendan moved in with the Kenneys and he had the Christmas of his life with them. Christmas dinner with the Maxsons was his best ever.
“How do we sing the notes to make them sound like what you want them to sound like?” Davy asked.
“That is a much better question than those of you who are rolling your eyes seem to realize,” Chet replied. “The thing that makes this so hard to explain is that it isn’t a case where I can simply tell you to do with your voice and then you do it. There are some effects in music that are achieved only by the mental attitude that is brought to it. So, if you imagine a vast cathedral, as I am asking you to do, and you think of the notes you sing as filling that space, then your singing will be different than it will be if you don’t do the imagining I am asking of you. Brendan, please sing the note.”
For reasons that Chet had explained and Brendan had not fully understood, Chet did not use the piano to give the pitch for a work sung without any instruments, but he relied either on a pitch-pipe or the perfect pitch of a chorister such as Brendan. Brendan sang the note and Chet nodded.
“Now, start us off, Brendan.”
Brendan sang the opening words “Ave Maria” and then the rest of the boys joined in. What the choirmaster said also reminded Brendan of some of the things Chet had said during piano lessons where, again, he suggested mental tricks to make his fingers do things to make a performance more effective. And so Brendan imagined that his singing was filling the vast space of Merithwell and he felt that it really was making a difference.
“That is much better,” said Chet. “Most of you, I think, are getting the idea and the rest of you will soon. I realize that our choir room is not conducive to the imagining I have asked you to do, but when we go up to the church to rehearse this, it will be easier because we will be singing in a somewhat better acoustical space. There is one little detail, however, that needs correction: you went flat by almost half a tone. Brendan, please sing the last note as it should have been.”
Brendan was surprised at how accurately he could tell when the choir’s pitch fell. Finding the right note with the flatted note still sounding in his ears was difficult, but he managed it.”
“Yes, that’s the note. So, we’ll have to work on intonation as well as ambience next time we look at it. Now, let us work on the Sanctus of the Western Wind Mass.”
Getting out the music for the Mass made Brendan think of Kyle and the other boys he had met at Merithwell. A look over at Luke confirmed that his friend shared the same thoughts.
“First, I want you to sing the song this mass is based on,” said Chet. “Remember that this song is unmetered and needs to flow smoothly. The mass itself must also flow in the same way. Luke, the note please.”
Luke sang the note and the choir sang the haunting song that gave this mass by John Taverner its name. Just as the boys were reaching the end of the song, Brendan saw a blur heading his way. He instinctively threw up his arms and something hard struck him in the wrist. The singing petered out. Brendan bent over and picked up a twisted wooden object that looked something like a boomerang.
“WHO DID THAT?” Chet yelled.
Never had Brendan seen Chet so angry, not even when the choir messed up an anthem in church. To Brendan’s surprise, Chet spoke gently on that occasion, trying to console the boys who were embarrassed by their failure. But throwing a boomerang that could have seriously injured somebody was something else. Brendan was shaking as he realized what a close call he had just had.
“I said: Who threw that thing?” Chet asked second time, his voice as hard as steel.
The boys on the other side of the choir room froze in terror with not the slightest sign of gloating over mischief performed.
“Craig Pafko? Was it you?”
Craig broke out into tears at the accusation.
“I’m sorry if I have falsely accused you,” said Chet, his voice showing more concern than anger. “Brendan, did you see who threw that thing at you?”
“No,” said Brendan. “I didn’t see anybody throw it. I think it came out of some other dimension.”
Those words made Chet as puzzled as he was angry. Brendan looked over at Luke, expecting a look that would tell him he shouldn’t have said that, but Luke nodded solemnly at Brendan.
“Do you expect me to believe that this unidentified flying object flew out of some parallel world?” Chet asked.
“I—don’t expect you to believe it,” said Brendan, “but I think that’s what happened. It’s like—it’s like this thing came out of nowhere. And since I don’t think anybody here threw it at me, I’m not going to accuse somebody of it just to get you off my case.”
“I see,” said Chet in that tone of voice that said that he did not see. Luke raised his hand. “Yes, Luke?”
“I didn’t see anybody throw that thing, either,” said Luke. “I wouldn’t put it past some of the boys over there to throw paper wads at me or at Brendan, but I don’t think anybody in this choir is mean enough to throw something that could really hurt someone, and certainly not Craig. It’s easier for me to believe that the thing came out of some parallel world, as Brendan said, than that somebody here purposely threw it at Brendan.”
Chet drummed his fingers on the top of the piano and eyed the boys closely.
“I will trust you to be telling me the truth as well as you can tell it,” said Chet. “Everybody take a few deep breaths and relax a moment, if you can.”
Brendan was still shaking but his gratitude for Chet’s reaction to his absurd but sincere spin on what had happened was deep.
“I think it’ll be easier if we turn to something a bit lighter and then come back to the Taverner,” said Chet. “Get out the Beatles Medley.”
Several boys cheered so that Chet had to pound out the opening chords to drown them out. The attack on “Hello, Goodbye” was poor and Chet had to start the boys a second time. It wasn’t until they swung into “A Little Help from my Friends” that the boys hit their stride. The Beatles’ songs that were going to serve as a light finale to the concert coming up had the desired effect of relaxing the boys and then they were better able to negotiate the Sanctus of the Western Wind Mass. As before, the Mass made Brendan think again of Kyle and Pir Min and Tel Arman, whose world was destroyed by deadly warfare.
When the rehearsal ended, Brendan and Luke came together but before they could say what was on their minds, a few other boys gathered around them.
“Thanks a lot for sticking up for us,” said Craig, who was obviously still shaken by what happened. “You’re a real pal if there ever was one. I promise I didn’t try to hit you with anything.”
Brendan eyed the twisted piece of wood in his hand curiously.
“I don’t think you did, either,” said Brendan. “That’s why I wouldn’t let you take the blame.”
“Is my brother in trouble again?” Sue Pafko asked, giving Craig that older sister look she gave him when she came in after rehearsals to snag him.
“I think we got him out of it,” said Brendan. “Not even Craig is guilty of everything that happens around here.”
“Do you really think that thing came out of some parallel world?” Davy asked.
“Have you been to some other worlds when we weren’t looking?” asked Miles.
“Uh—maybe we visited some parallel worlds right under your noses when you thought you were looking,” Brendan suggested.
“You have been visiting other worlds, haven’t you?” said Kit.
“You guys read too much science fiction,” said Craig.
“I know,” said Brendan. “The more science fiction you read, the more parallel worlds you get to visit.”
“I’ve read as much science fiction as you,” said Sue, “so how come I don’t get a chance to visit some other world?”
“Maybe it’s because girls aren’t allowed in some parallel worlds,” Luke suggested.
“What do you mean girls aren’t allowed in some parallel worlds?” asked Sue.
“He means I have to have a place where I can get away from my big bossy sister,” said Craig.
“We don’t mean to exclude you,” said Brendan, “I’m sure you’re welcome to come to our secret world the next time—“ Brendan’s voice trailed off when he saw Merithwell opening up behind the filing cabinets.
Long exclamations of “Woah!” were about all the other boys could manage.
“It’s like Emerald City—only better!” Sue exclaimed.
“You weren’t kidding about that thing flying in from some other world, were you?” said Kit.
“No, I wasn’t,” said Brendan. “This place is called Merithwell. It’s a tower between the worlds for boy sopranos.”
“You might get to meet our friends if you come in,” said Luke.
“Your help—please!” a boy cried out from inside Merithwell.
There was a scuffling of feet and a flurry of activity.
“Something’s up,” said Brendan. “We’re going in. You can come if you want. That includes you, Sue.”
Brendan and Luke did not wait for the others to make up their minds before dashing in to Merithwell. There they saw Dunsland and two other children wearing gray robes struggling to move somebody. Danzigger and Pir Min and Kyle also were converging on their friend.
“What’s wrong?” asked Kyle.
“Everything,” said Dunsland. “Can you help us get Malcoomb?”
“Can we start healing Raissa right away?” asked the boy in the gray robe. “I don’t think she can last much longer if we don’t.”
“She looks like she’s melting like the Witch from the West!” Sue exclaimed. “What kind of place is this?”
“Weird, that’s what this place is,” said Brendan. “No time for questions, What can we do? Will singing help?”
“I hope so,” said Dunsland. “If it doesn’t, nothing will.”
“Pir Min and I will sing and Kyle will sing,” said Danzigger. “Brendan, what are you doing with our twister?”
“So, you’re the one who threw it at us?” Brendan asked.
“I was throwing it to the other children and it disappeared,” said Danzigger. “I think now I was calling you to come.”
“Funny way to call us,” said Brendan. “Now we’ve really got Craig off the hook.”
“Maybe the twister is needed for something,” Danzigger suggested. “Will you sing, too?”
“All those other boys that came in with Luke and me know the song ‘The Western Wind,’” Brendan replied, “so I suggest we sing that.”
“Looks like that girl needs a doctor,” said Kit.
“She’s been wrecked by magic going wrong,” said Dunsland. “I think singing is our best bet.”
“Here, we’ve had our best luck helping people by singing to them,” Brendan explained to his shell-shocked fellow choristers. “Please help us and let us explain things later.”
“Whatever you say, pal,” said Craig.
“Morrass, can you and Gwendarin get Malcoomb?” Dunsland asked.
“Of course,” said Morrass.
Brendan then saw Malcoomb lying unconscious on a bed in a room filled with blue light. The other student magi ran into the room after him. Kyle started singing the song “The Western Wind.” Sue’s lost look made Brendan feel bad about saying everybody knew that song, but Sue quickly found her place with the stricken girl, holding her hand. Mark Streeter came running in with a group of boys from his world at about the same time that Morass and Gwendarin carried the limp body of Malcoomb into Merithwell and laid it next to Raissa. When Miles and Kit and the other boys started to sing, they seemed to be more in their element, in spite of the strange surroundings and the bewildering crisis they did not understand. Without anybody planning it, the boys changed the words of the song to:
Western wynde, when wilt thou blow,
The small raine down can raine.
Christ, if this girl were healed again
And back to life again!
It was during the third or fourth time the boys sang the verse that Brendan saw yet another room open up. Wondering what new crisis was brewing, Brendan looked and saw Tel Arman, dressed in his brighter-than-life imperial cadet’s uniform. He was sitting in a chair and singing the song with all the other boys. Then Tel Arman struggled to his feet and tried to take a staggering step towards Merithwell only to collapse in a chair behind him, Brendan did not hesitate to go after him. Neither did Luke nor Pir Min. The three of them managed to get Tel Arman back on his feet and over to Malcoomb and Raissa.
As the singing continued, Brendan was quite sure that Raissa was beginning to take on a more solid shape and Tel Arman seemed to look stronger as well. It was hard to see if the singing was having any effect Malcoomb, but then Brendan had no idea what had afflicted him. As the last note of the verse sounded, after countless repetitions, a star high above the boys flared up and dropped down into the room. Craig and Kit covered their heads, but the star found a place for itself as another cluster of singing stones in the tower of Merithwell.
“Woah!” exclaimed Kit and Craig.
“I told you this was a strange place,” said Brendan.
“Thanks for coming,” said Dunsland. “You’re singing is a big help. Tel Arman, I am glad you are here, too, this time. Now we have everybody. I hope you are feeling better?”
“Yes,” said Tel Arman, “I feel better.”
“You sing well,” said Pir Min.
Tel Arman nodded weakly at the compliment. The brokenness in his face showed that he was no longer the haughty believer in the Empire that had killed everybody who opposed it in any way.
“Where are Polnar and Passenell?” asked Mark.
“Where are Polnar and Passenell?” asked Danzigger.
As if in answer to that question, the sound of a boy chanting could be heard. The music was hauntingly beautiful, but the words sang of somebody chopping somebody else into pieces. Then suddenly the voice became high and shrill: “And the High Devoted One raised his knife to slice the innocent body of the Dedicated Singer!”
“Uh-oh,” said Luke. “I think Polnar and Passenell are in trouble.”
“This way!” Mark urged, waving the other boys in the direction of the singing.
“You better stay here,” said Brendan to Sue, “this might be dangerous.”
Sue’s lost look reminded Brendan that he was asking her to stay in a strange place with total strangers, but he had no idea of what to suggest to her.
“Your touch is good for Raissa,” said Gwendarin. “You are safe with us.”
“I’ll stay with you,” said Kit.
“Thanks,” said Sue.
There was no more time to waste. Brendan picked up the twister and ran after the other boys through a small room lit only by a candle and then ran in to a sanctuary where a robed man stood behind an altar and held a knife over the limp body of Passenell. Brendan threw the twister at the man, hitting him in the wrist and forcing the knife out of his hand. Frantic activity in a different direction drew the boys’ attention to other robed men who were seizing Polnar.
“Tormo!” Tel Arman ordered, “spearhead a line to block these guys at the table. Mark, get Passenell. You!” Tel Arman pointed at Miles. “Lead the attack and get Polnar, the other boys those guys have got!”
Nobody questioned Tel Arman’s right to give orders. Brendan dove after the boomerang and grabbed it just in time to beat off the nearest robed man who was trying to get possession of Passenell. Mark picked the boy up off the altar while Tormo punched out two other priests who tried to stop him. Meanwhile, two priests were struggling to drag Polnar to the altar against punches from Miles and kicks from Craig Pafko.
“Give me that!” Tel Arman ordered, pointing at the boomerang.
Brendan surrendered the twister and Tel Arman sent it flying straight into the face of one of the priests who had a hold of Polnar. With Miles flipping over the other priest at the same time, Polnar was sprung free. Kyle dragged him out of the grasp of men in the crowd who were reaching for him. The yelling and movements of the crowd became more frantic. Too late, Brendan saw that a group of priests and their people had cut off their retreat to the room they had entered through. The cries in the temple became deafening as a large animal suddenly appeared in the back of the temple followed by a bright red wagon. The beast lumbered through the crowd in Polnar’s direction. Two men and two women, riding on top of the wagon, wielded heavy sticks against anybody who threatened to come near them. The older man scooped Polnar in his arms and lifted him up to the wagon.
“Here!” cried Polnar. “Inside wagon!”
Brendan gratefully accepted the shielding offered by Tel Arman and Tormo and Miles while he made sure that Craig and the smaller boys with Mark were herded into the wagon. The women and men on the wagon beat off attackers, giving the boys just enough time to scramble inside the wagon.
“Ritzvah! All of you! Inside!” Polnar yelled.
From inside the wagon, the yelling of the crowd surrounding them was more frightening than ever and Brendan feared they were all trapped.
“This way!” Polnar yelled frantically from the back of the wagon.
Brendan saw for himself that the back of the wagon led straight to Merithwell. The sound of a harp, Danzigger’s violin and boys’ singing cut into the crowd’s noise.
“Come on!” Brendan yelled to the others. “We’re safe!”
Proceed to Chapter the Fifth of Part the Fourth