The Three Thorns

by Michael Gibney

  “Take hold,” said the voice above his head. Sebastian instantly glanced above him to see the face he’d recognized before. It was the phantom of his parent’s opera house.

  “You!” Sebastian exclaimed, tightening his own grasp onto his rescuer’s hand that lifted him up through a lighting hole in the ceiling.

  Sebastian’s disappearance from the scaffolding had attracted the attention of the entire staff of the opera house that crowded around the stage set to get a closer look.

  “He’s gone!” gasped a fellow worker, pointing to the ceiling above them.

  “Where did he go?” asked another.

  “Shut up, the lot of you!” Viktor shouted over the auditorium. He randomly led a lanky worker by the ear to the bottom of the scaffolding. “Get up there and see what’s going on.”

  The worker was a bundle of nerves when he put one foot in front of the other at the base of the rusted metal joints. Viktor’s chastising didn’t seem to change the worker’s velocity either, until he shook the scaffolding with his boot.

  “Come on you monkey, climb. Faster! Faster!”

  The panicky worker tried to hang on but the added pressure of Viktor’s taunting caused him to lose his balance. At the same time the worker fell toward the ground, a man stepped next to the scaffolding from the theater’s side entrance doors. To Viktor’s horror, a stunned and furious Mr. Jennings broke the fall of the boy.

  “Get this scrapper off of me,” Mr. Jennings yelled, too weak and helpless to help himself. “If I had a penny for every time—.”

  “Just what is going on here then?” asked a familiar voice half hidden by the gloom of the stage corner.

  Viktor kicked the lanky worker off Mr. Jennings, offering a helping hand to the old man. Lifting Mr. Jennings to his feet, Viktor almost jumped out of his skin when he noticed the Inspector emerge from the shadows.

  “Well?” the Inspector continued.

  Viktor couldn’t think of a word to say in response to the Inspector’s question, until another ceiling light blew out, followed by the entire row. Each light blew after the other from the far right of the ceiling to the left.

  The Inspector smiled with a victorious sparkle in his beady eyes. “Care to shine some light on the situation, Mr. Cain?”

  Viktor was unable to contain his temper. “Sebastian!” he screamed at the top of the auditorium. His booming voice travelled through the holes in the ceiling and strangled Sebastian’s eardrums.

  Sebastian crawled behind his new rescuer and watched his parents from inside the dome shaped ceiling.

  “Something fishy is going on here,” Mr. Jennings said with a scowl, pointing his bony finger in Viktor’s face.

  Sebastian looked on as the Inspector kept his calm, walking over to the scaffolding while studying the ceiling above. He thought for certain the Inspector had spotted them hiding behind the dome ceiling somehow, even though it would have been impossible.

  “What is that peculiar noise?” the Inspector asked.

  The reflective stage-lights below pierced through the ceiling’s holes. Sebastian’s eyes adjusted inside the dimness when his rescuer signalled at him to halt and not a moment too soon.

  “What is it now?” asked Viktor, stepping closer to the Inspector. “I have a show to put together in less than an hour.”

  “Whom, may I ask, are you calling to, Mr. Cain?” asked the Inspector, in a suspicious tone.

  “My son,” Viktor snapped impatiently.

  The Inspector slowly took off his spectacles and revealed a wide-eyed stare that chilled Viktor and Greta to the bone.

  “You have a son? You never mentioned having a child of your own, Mr. Cain. How old is he?”

  The man’s questions came rapidly, unnerving the theater owner in front of his wife and staff, as well as the boys hiding above them.

  “Our boy has nothing to do with your runaways, Inspector,” Greta interrupted, nervously fiddling a match between her fingers until she successfully struck it and lit her cigarette.

  The Inspector sneered and tilted his head to look back up at the ceiling. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he smiled. “This boy of yours Mr. Cain…he is, in fact, yours?” he continued, staring back at both guardians. His eyes were scrutinising. The frightened couple swiftly looked to one another for a reasonable answer.

  “My s-show—.” Viktor stammered, noticeably changing the subject.

  “Are you hard of hearing, Inspector? We have a show to put on here, so if you don’t mind discussing this at a more convenient time,” Greta scolded, clearly startled by the Inspector’s probing manner.

  “Well, it’s just as well I purchased my ticket,” the Inspector whispered, raising his hand to show the Cains a single ticket he held between two fingers. “I’m looking forward to the show. I reserved a balcony seat.”

  Sebastian kept perfectly still as he watched Mr. Jennings and the Inspector leave with the policemen. “You must follow me, Sebastian,” the boy whispered back in a very faint tone.

  “How do you know my—,” Sebastian began, but he didn’t have time to finish his question, for his rescuer was already at the other side of the inner dome ceiling. More calls echoed up to him from the stage floor as both boys slid a few feet down a steep horizontal drop, exiting the ceiling and entering the opera house’s overly-large constructed loft space.

  “I’m not going any further until you tell me who you are,” Sebastian insisted, trying to balance himself on the bouncy insulation on the attic floor.

  “You can call me Peter.”

  “You were here before, weren’t you? I recognize your face. You hid at the top balcony when that Inspector visited here a few months ago,” Sebastian said.

  “He is a very dangerous and evil man. We need to leave,” Peter said bluntly.

  “Why?”

  “If he finds out who you really are, he will spare no thought of killing you.”

  Peter’s words sent an instant tingle up Sebastian’s spine.

  “Why would a policeman want to do that?”

  “Because he isn’t a policeman. We have to travel to meet an old friend of mine. We have to make it up to Warwickshire, so please, get a move on,” pleaded Peter.

  “Warwickshire?” asked Sebastian, standing still in disbelief. “You’re one of those runaways they’ve been looking for, aren’t you? You’re one of the Gatesville boys.” Sebastian stepped away from Peter in shock and awe.

  “Don’t be alarmed, I’m not going to harm you,” Peter whispered. “I’ve come to help.”

  “I don’t need any help. I don’t even know you,” Sebastian said.

  “Just listen for a moment. There are others like you.”

  “Like me?”

  “They’re orphans too, only they’re more than that,” Peter insisted.

  “I-I don’t understand,” Sebastian stuttered.

  “Your parents are not your real parents, Sebastian,” Peter said honestly.

  “I know…they already told me a few years ago, so what does it matter?”

  “When you were born, you were left outside one of their opera houses so that you would be taken into their care and looked after,” Peter explained.

  “You’re not telling me something I don’t already know,” Sebastian said…until he realized something important.

  “Wait a minute here…but how…how do you know all this?” he asked, staring curiously at Peter’s honest eyes.

  “Because I was there from the beginning,” Peter said, showing the boy a piece of maroon cloth adorned with the same two-headed snake symbol Sebastian had been wrapped in when he was born. Sebastian’s eyes lit up the moment he saw the golden pattern. “You’ve seen this before in your dreams, haven’t you?” Peter asked confidently.

  “Not in my dreams,” Sebastian whispered in shock as he lifted out his own ragged cloth he’d always kept inside his pocket. “What is it?”

  “It is the symbo
l of my King and his kingdom. I’m a soldier of that kingdom. That is why you have one just like it. You were covered in it when you were born…by your real Father.”

  “This can’t be,” Sebastian gasped. “You’re just a boy yourself.”

  “Only to you. You’re part of something much bigger than what this life has to offer.”

  “Part of what?”

  “A Brotherhood.”

  “Wait…what?” Sebastian asked. He theatrically struck a pose of confusion that made Peter smile.

  “The Brotherhood of Warlocks. Mighty sorcerers. There are two more like you, with gifts similar to yours. They were banished from their home when they were born, as were you,” Peter explained.

  “The boys from my dreams,” Sebastian whispered to himself.

  “Yes. They’re real. I’m the one responsible for planning their getaway from Gatesville,” Peter admitted before Sebastian pointed a warning finger at him.

  “You stay away from me.”

  “I was sent here to bring you back too, Sebastian,” Peter said. “You have to believe me.”

  “Back where?”

  “Back home…to Abasin. The world you’ve seen in your dreams. It’s real. I can show you I’m telling the truth. Please come with me,” Peter implored with conviction.

  “What good are dreams? They mean nothing. What have dreams ever done for me? Viktor and Greta just use my ideas I write down, it’s all I’m good for,” Sebastian said modestly.

  Peter sighed. “And they take all of the credit.”

  Sebastian shot him a look of astonishment. “You have been spying on me, haven’t you?” he asked, shuffling away from the trespassing boy to put several dusty boxes between them.

  “I’ve been protecting you, whether you knew it or not,” Peter admitted, chasing the boy around the attic’s stash of clutter.

  “From who, exactly? Viktor and Greta?” Sebastian asked.

  “The man in your dreams. You know who I mean, don’t you? The one dressed in white,” Peter said softly.

  Sebastian stopped dead in his tracks at the mention of the white-cloaked man.

  “How do you know about him?” Sebastian whispered faintly.

  “Because he’s not just a nightmare, Sebastian,” Peter murmured up close. “He’s real too.”

  “Get lost, or I will turn you in myself.”

  “Listen to me. Dreams don’t haunt you like this unless they are real,” replied Peter, peering back into the passageway toward the ceiling.

  “And I should just trust everything you’ve said, right?” Sebastian asked, leaning against several unpacked boxes near the far corner of the attic. “No, it’s my imagination, just my stupid imagination.”

  “If that were true then how could I know these things?” Peter asked challengingly.

  “Then tell me, this white-cloaked masked man, who is he?” Sebastian asked hesitantly, his voice shaking.

  “He is known to many as the False One but to his people he is King Sa—,” Peter whispered when he was abruptly silenced.

  “Stop! I already know his name. It’s mentioned every time I dream. I don’t want to hear it again…not if I don’t have to.”

  Sebastian groaned, rubbing his neck to keep himself from shuddering. “So, how do I stop having these visions?”

  “Come with me,” Peter urged, nodding his head gently as he reached out a hand to the disturbed boy.

  “Warwickshire sure is a long way north of here.”

  “Longer if you don’t have a map to get you there,” Peter said, unfolding his original copy in front of Sebastian.

  “Oh no. The police already have a copy of that map, I saw them with it,” Sebastian moaned.

  “Then we’ll have to be quicker on our feet than they are,” Peter replied excitably.

  Sebastian crept out from behind the boxes gawking at Peter through his overly large and dusty spectacles. “I’m not sure about this,” he said hastily.

  “I’m offering you a chance to know the real truth about yourself Sebastian, to know where you really come from, to know who your real parents were. This is your chance to do something great. You’ll meet new friends like you and explore your abilities. You can use your gifts to help others and advance the Brotherhood,” Peter said honestly. “Or you can stay here and look forward to washing Viktor’s laundry, if you’re not mopping the toilets for Greta after the show.”

  Sebastian looked around the cold attic. Staring down at the holes in his rags, he noticed his true poverty compared to his rich foster parents and realised there was nothing keeping him there. Sebastian smiled, a sparkle for adventure filling in his eyes.

  “This better be worth it.”

  “I’m not going to lie to you Sebastian, if you come with me, you’ll never be able to come back,” Peter warned.

  “That’s a crying shame. Not even for Christmas?” Sebastian said in a sardonic tone to his bemused guest. “That was a joke, Peter.”

  “There isn’t much time left, Sebastian. The False One has sent assassins. They’ll be catching up to us if we linger. I fear they may have already tracked me down.”

  “Who? The Inspector?” Sebastian gasped, dumbfounded.

  “He’s one of them, I’m sure of it. I don’t know how he got here but I know it’s an assassin, even in that clever disguise. He’s here for us and I’ve led him straight to you.”

  Sebastian took a deep breath again and looked hard at Peter.

  “We must go now,” Peter warned.

  Compared to the usual neediness of Benjamin or the rude childish temperament of Tommy, Sebastian was an island unto himself. The prop boy was different. He had wisdom.

  “Then let’s leg it,” Sebastian insisted, kneeling down to look through a hole in the wall light. “It won’t be long now until the crowds pour in.”

  “But I can hear them already,” Peter whispered back. “How will we slip past when it’s so busy?”

  “We’ll have to become a part of the show,” Sebastian gloated, scrambling to his feet to search the back of the enormous attic for old props and costumes.

  “Go on stage? That sounds too risky. The Inspector will be in the audience,” Peter reminded, cautious of the deadly assassin.

  “It’s the only way,” Sebastian said courageously. “The stage will be the last place they’ll expect to look.”

  “Then take this map, in case we lose each other,” Peter said, calmly handing the boy the map.

  “We won’t lose each other, and we won’t get caught,” he smiled, stopping his large crooked spectacles from sliding off his nose with his free hand. “Besides, my encore is long overdue.”

  “Let’s find some costumes then,” Peter said encouragingly.

  Both tore the large attic apart as quietly as they could in search of the perfect disguise to fit in with the show.

  “I hope you don’t get stage fright,” Sebastian teased, tossing a costume on the floor to Peter.

  “Hey, this is some form of beast.” Peter stared warily at the grotesque donkey suit that was worn and torn.

  “We used it for A Midsummer Night’s Dream a few months ago, but it’s okay because tonight they’re doing another Shakespearean play called Macbeth.”

  “Macbeth?” asked Peter, his face undoubtedly honest by his lack of knowledge of the arts. “Well, the important thing is the play has horses in one scene as I recall,” Sebastian jittered with excitement in his voice.

  Peter lifted the dusty worn out donkey mask by his index finger and sneezed before studying it.

  “It’s perfect. Let’s get ready.”

  13

  Roaring and Curtains

  Outside the auditorium an overflowing crowd of judges, politicians, barristers, doctors, and Shakespeare fans waited in line.

  “What is taking so long?” one voice yelled amidst a muster of complaints.

  A group of workers rapidly climbed to the top of the scaffolding to fi
x the ceiling lights as fast as their hands would allow them.

  Peter and Sebastian could even hear one worker puttering around the inside of the ceiling space.

  “Do you see him?” Viktor called up to the workers. His voice was troubled. “What’s happened to my lights?” he demanded. “Can you see anything?”

  “Of course they can’t, you great brute, the lights are still out,” Greta chastised, walking up the side steps of the stage. She steadied her cigarette holder to her lips and took a long puff. “We will deal with that indolent brat later; just get the lights working. The bouncers are ready to open the main doors. Hurry up and get that hideous thing out of here,” she added, tapping the side of the scaffolding.

  “I’m gonna kill him!” Viktor grumbled back to his wife, marching backstage to ensure his workers were performing their jobs properly.

  It was hard to tackle the task, for the group had hardly managed to fix the lights until half of them went out again. Viktor was left no choice but to solve the slight setback later and go on with the show without them.

  As the boys waited in the large attic space of the opera house, a trembling noise of feet echoed through the airshafts like a stampede of sound. The doors had finally opened.

  Sebastian wore an old crumply archer costume covered in tin foil.

  “Look at me, I’m Sir Lancelot,” Sebastian laughed, swinging a piece of tinfoil and cardboard that had been shaped to resemble a sword. Its visible glue spots made the costume look cheap and shabby.

  “What is Lancelot?” Peter asked. Peter’s naive expression made him appear more alien to Sebastian than anyone he had ever met.

  “You really haven’t heard of any of these people, have you?” Sebastian asked, staring widely into the slits of Peter’s donkey mask.

  “We should go now,” Peter replied.

  “One moment. I have to make sure,” Sebastian pleaded, scrambling toward the crack in the dusty floor to spy on the unsuspecting crowd below them. Audience members kept coming by the dozen to take their seats.

  Sebastian spotted the prop boy who had taken over his job, ushering in the guests that evening using a flashlight. A feeling of relief swept over him at the prospect of a new life where he would never have to show some ill-mannered aristocrat to their favorite seat again.