Josh and the Magic Vial (37 page)

Josh closed his eyes. He thought of his home on Tenth Avenue. He saw his mum and dad, the chestnut-lined street, their funky house with its view of Vancouver. Then he imagined himself stepping out the front door, ready to jump on his skateboard and clatter off to Main Street. He felt comfortable in his baggy shorts, T-shirt, sneakers.

“My God!” Charlie cried. “How did you do that?”

“I'm doing what you told me to do — imagining who I really am.” Josh said.

“But transformations happen over time!” Charlie protested. “I've never seen one take place instantaneously, or one that changed a Sydean into an Outworlder!”

“I am what you see,” Josh insisted.

Charlie hesitated, staring at the figure before him, shaking his head in disbelief. “You are very talented in the ways of magic,” he pronounced at last. “I hope you are as good at public speaking. I believe we can trust you, but the decision to admit you to our movement is not up to me. You must persuade the assembly. You understand there is a risk.”

Josh nodded. “If I don't persuade them, you shall hold me prisoner.”

“Agreed,” Charlie said, “Although, I don't see how anyone, except Vortigen himself, could hold you against your will. Not with the powers you've displayed.”

“I will abide by the will of the assembly,” Josh promised.

Charlie smiled skeptically. “No sense waiting, then,” he said. “Into the fray! Follow me.”

He turned and ushered them under the wooden arch that led into the amphitheater. Josh swallowed hard and followed like a prisoner on trial.

“Gentlemen! Ladies!” Charlie shouted over the hubbub.

The assembly paid no attention, chattering on like a tree full of starlings. They were discussing what they should do about Josh Dempster, the Crown Prince. Some were for instant imprisonment, others thought holding him for ransom might be best, still others thought he should be interrogated because he would have valuable information about Vortigen and the Emerald Palace.

None stood in his favour.

“GENTLEMEN! LADIES!” Charlie bellowed, causing a stir, a snicker, then a general lull in the conversation. “Before we condemn this lad, I think you should at least hear from him. I ask for your silence so the boy can speak.”

“What do we want to hear from him?” a gruff voice challenged. “I say let's imprison him and thwart Vortigen's latest trick. He's sent the boy into our midst.”

“Hear, hear,” several seconded.

“What have you to fear from hearing the lad out?” Charlie cried. “What kind of rebellion do we stand for, when we won't let a boy speak in his own behalf? How will that infamous act be written up in our own history?”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the amphitheatre. “He's right,” one woman shouted. “You can't condemn the boy without hearing him.”

The crowd grumbled.

“Agreed then!” Charlie seconded. “The boy shall speak.”

He turned to Josh. “It's your only chance lad, make good on it,” he advised gruffly, gesturing Josh toward the podium.

Josh advanced shakily. He looked out at the faces surrounding him in the dappled light — angry faces, distrustful faces, mocking faces, anything but friendly faces. What a terrible thing it was to be condemned! If only the rebels could see beyond the circumstances of his case, to the truth in his heart. But they couldn't. All they saw was the pompous young prince in a different set of clothes.

Josh cleared his throat.

“Is that all you've got to say for yourself?” someone shouted.

“Leave him alone, ya big lout,” a voice cut in, the same woman who had vouched for his right to speak. He hadn't seen her the first time, but now he sought her out and caught her eye. She, in turn, held him in her fierce gaze. “She knows!” Josh thought, amazed. She knew the truth that lay stifled in his breast and urged him to speak with her hard, uncompromising stare.

“Thank you,” he said to her, surprised at the way his voice carried.

Was it really him speaking? He'd never spoken that way before — with force and conviction. But now a power to speak swelled inside him and his lone supporter smiled knowingly, giving her complete assent.

“Thank you,” Josh said to her again. “You have given me courage to tell my strange tale.” He looked round the amphitheater, taking in every face. “If you choose to believe me, I will be grateful; if you do not, I will be grateful still that you have heard me out. It shows you are honourable men and women, and true enemies of tyranny.

“And I tell you now, I am Vortigen's enemy too. He tricked me into dishonouring myself, and his stratagem would have worked, if my dear friends had not rescued me. Because of them he has failed, and I will not serve him. I am as determined as any of you to see the rebellion succeed.”

An approving murmur rippled through the assembly, but it was met by a counter-current of skepticism.

Josh told them how he had been deceived by Endorathlil, how he had led an ordinary life until then, and how he was more surprised than anyone when Vortigen chose him as heir. “You cannot accuse me on that score,” he argued, “because the choice had nothing to do with me. Nothing whatever.” Then he explained how he had partaken of the feast at the Emerald Palace, and how the food and drink had weakened his mind, allowing Athelrod to brainwash him with temptations and magic, then how Millie and Ian had brought him to his senses.

“I have learned much during my brief stay at the Emerald Palace, and all that I have learned is at your service. Let me join your cause. I swear, I will not dishonour myself again, but will prove a true friend.”

Silence greeted these remarks. The rebels stared at him now as if he were some sort of exotic species in a zoo, and Josh stared back, confident he had spoken well.

“You have heard what the boy had to say,” Charlie Underwood shouted. “I, for one, have no doubts as to his loyalty and courage. But we are a democratic assembly and mine is one voice among many. There is no time for debate in this matter. We must vote now. All those who would condemn Josh Dempster, raise your hands and voices.”

Some in the audience looked about to see whose hands were raised. But not a single rebel cast a vote against Josh.

“All those who are for admitting this fine young fellow into our company, raise your hands and voices now.”

A deafening shout rang out in the amphitheater and a forest of hands shot up. “Hooray!” the rebels cheered, glad to show their support and relieved that they were of one mind in the matter. Charlie thumped Josh on the back, almost toppling him off the dais. “Well done, my boy,” he cheered, shaking Josh's hand.

“If I do end up staying in Syde, this is where I want to be,” Josh answered, his voice barely audible over the cheers. “You must believe that, and you must believe all that I have said about being a friend of the rebellion.”

“Why do you say this now!” Charlie demanded, worried at Josh's tone.

“Because I have not finished speaking yet, and what remains to be said will certainly cause some . . . er . . . discussion.”

“What are you going to say,” Charlie yelled over the din.

Without answering Josh turned back to the assembly and raised his arms. A hush fell over the celebration. “Comrades!” he shouted, “for now I can call you that.” A cheer went up again, interrupting him. “Thank you for your vote of confidence. But now I have a proposal to make, which will further test your trust.”

Silence descended upon the assembly once more, the rebels looking from one to another as if someone in the crowd might be able to interpret this new turn of events and foretell what Josh would say.

“I am the newest member of your ranks, so I cannot issue advice, let alone commands. I wouldn't dare. But I am also a free man, allowed to do what I will so long as I do not betray your trust. I have been taught from
The Book of Syde
and explored the Emerald Palace. I have talked at length to Vortigen and his highest counsellors. I know their strengths . . . and their one great weakness.”

He waited until they had assessed his words and silence prevailed then continued. “There is a chance — but only a chance, I must warn you — that if we show courage this day, if we seize the moment, we may win our freedom. To do this, we must take a bold stroke. We must march on the Emerald Palace . . . ”

Voices rang out in the amphitheater again. Angry voices, denouncing him. “You're crazy!” they said. “Are you trying to get us slaughtered?”

“Silence!” Charlie boomed. “Hear him out.”

“There is a passage in
The Book
which you should all know about. It is called the
Song of Emancipation
. If you take my advice and march on Ormor, you must learn every note and every word of this song. You must know it in your hearts as well as your minds, and learn to sing it in the true spirit of supplicants — that is with conviction and humility. If you do that, your right to freedom can prevail . . . ”

“Sing?” several voices cried out in disbelief.

“The Ancient Law states that Vortigen must give audience to anyone who sings the
Song of Emancipation
, and he must listen for as long as they wish to sing. He does not have to grant what they ask — freedom to leave Syde — but he cannot banish them for their impudence or molest them in any way until the last note of their singing has ceased.”

“What good will that do us if he doesn't have to grant our demands?” somebody shouted.

“The song is hateful to Vortigen. He cannot bear the sound of it. It is on account of this song that he has banished music in any form from Syde.”

“Then he will punish us all the more savagely when we stop singing.”

“Why would we stop singing?” Josh asked.

The rebels looked from one to the other, puzzled, not quite comprehending what they had just heard.

“Alone, I could sing the song for perhaps a day or two before I succumbed to exhaustion, and that is what I will do if no one else joins me. Then I will be at the Tyrant's mercy. Vortigen knows this, as does everyone else who has ever considered appealing his stern rule by this means. So the song is never sung. But an army of freedom fighters could sing indefinitely, could they not?” Josh continued slyly. “They could forge themselves into a mighty choir, that could sing the
Song of
Emancipation
for days and days, or until the tyrant submitted by granting their wish. They could lay siege to Ormor with the power of their voices.”

Stunned by this suggestion, the assembly stood silent. All eyes turned on Charlie, who remained deep in thought. Finally, he stepped up to the podium beside Josh. “The rebellion started with me,” he began, “and as your leader I have never let you down, have I?”

His supporters answered with silence.

“For almost a century now, we have fought for our freedom,” he continued, “and that makes us free in spirit, even though we are imprisoned in this place. We willingly suffer the consequences of war. We are hunted, cast in dungeons, tortured, and banished to Desolation Isle — all because we refuse to submit to the tyrant's rule. But what have we accomplished with all our efforts? Are we a single step closer to the portal that will take us away from here?”

He paused, glancing at every face. “You all know the answer to that question. Warfare has not won us an inch of ground. The danger is, comrades, that warfare has become a way of life for us. All our energy has been devoted to plotting against Vortigen and his soldiers. We earn grim satisfaction from our occasional victories, but that is all. We celebrate the hollow victory of having bested an enemy, but not the true victory of having advanced our cause.

“On this day, I think the possibility of real freedom is within our grasp. Don't ask me why, but I believe in this boy whom Vortigen has proclaimed heir. He may well prove to be the tyrant's downfall. I, for one, am eager for open combat and for the war to be decided one way or the other. I would rather take a chance on something new than continue fighting eternally without hope. I grow weary with plotting, and ambushing, and running. I long for peace. You have heard him and each of you can make up your own mind, but I am going to cast my vote in his favour.

“Comrades!” Charlie shouted in conclusion, looking to Josh. “We are at a historic moment — a moment of truth. This boy is our friend — that much is clear. He has volunteered to go to the Emerald Palace alone, to sue for freedom on our behalf. I, for one, will not let him face that fate alone. I say we hear this song. If it seems to be a thing of magic, then let us learn it and march on the Emerald Palace.”

A murmur of protest rippled through the assembly, mixed with some grunts of assent.

“This is not the type of uprising I had planned. The day will not be won by the clash of arms and the spilling of blood, but by an assault of prayer and music. I am going to take that risk, and if I am defeated, at least it will be a glorious defeat. Those who are with me, come; those who are opposed, stay, but the time for debate is over. Even if I have to march alone with the boy, I will go and sing at the palace gate for though I have known him but an hour, I am in awe of this boy. He is the one Vortigen thought him to be, but not at all what Vortigen expected.”

“You will not be alone, my friend,” Quiggle vowed. “I will be with you.”

“And me!” a voice piped up. It was the woman who had spoken up for Josh earlier.

“And me!” another cried. It was the white-haired gentleman Ian had approached the day he and Millie entered the Habitations.

“And me!” “And me!” “And me!” others volunteered, until very few were left, who had not cast their fate into the balance.

“Let us go!” Charlie ordered. “To The Circuit and through The Habitations, even though that is the longer way. Let us be heard throughout the land, so that any who wish to join us can. And Josh, you teach us to sing as we go.”