Rainbow's End - Wizard (40 page)

‘Have you thought about what you want to do tomorrow, Thomas?’ he asked the boy.

Thomas closed the book. ‘I thought I’d go and see a film,’ he said, and mentioned a name. ‘It’s about…’

‘I know what it’s about, Thomas,’ Izzy interrupted gently. ‘A fantasy place
, with fantasy creatures and giant trees...’

Thomas nodded, embarrassed, and Izzy asked, softly, ‘Will you really not go back, Thomas?’
and sighed when the boy quietly shook his head. ‘You cannot hide forever, you know,’ he said. ‘You have been here three days - thirteen back on the Earth. You have to open up sometime; face what happened and forgive, then carry on with your life.’

Thomas gave another nod. ‘I know, Izzy,’ he said, in a voice ba
rely above a whisper. And then - seconds later, ‘Can we leave it for tomorrow night?’

‘Of course we can.’ Izzy gave him a kind smile. He finished o
ff his whiskey and said, standing. ‘Let’s call it a night then, shall we? Bring your book, if you want to finish it.’

That night, after two of not doing so, Thomas dreamed of Rainbow’s End again.

*****

Bryan Stone stood in the shadow of the high castle wall, and watched his “soldiers” come out of the win
dow-and-door-less monolithic structure. They assembled around him, and he counted them to make sure none had decided to shirk. There were nine besides himself, including Rudi’s two ex-henchmen, André and Gerick. But not Rudi, himself. They were all dressed in their still-almost-new black finery, but despite the thickness of their clothes, shivering in the dark, biting cold.

‘Where to?!’ shouted Gerick,
next to Bryan’s ear. The howling wind made it impossible to hear normal speech, and Bryan shouted back - ‘London!’

Gerick leaned closer once more. ‘Are we just going, or do we have a reason?!’ he shouted.

Bryan lifted his brows at what he took to be an insolent question from the bigger boy, but when he saw the eager expression on the other’s face, relented; with a twisted smile - ala Kraylle - shouted back, ‘Course we have a reason! We’re going on a recruitment drive!’

The wind burned the exposed skin of his face, and he happily turned into its frigid breath, then walked into the light of the ever-present moon. The
Dark Crystal dangled on its silver chain, fastened around his wrist and twisted between his fingers.

*****

‘Joshi said the crystal will leave me when it is ready - and
not
when I want it to,’ said Thomas.

Izzy shrugged. ‘True,’ he said. ‘One day you will wake up and it will be gone. And so will a large part of your life: Your grandfather, purpose, your home…’

He saw the clouds in the young Traveller’s eyes and continued, relentlessly. ‘Yes, Thomas, your
home
. For let’s face it: Rainbow’s End
is
your home. This,’ he waved a dismissive arm around him, grimaced and said, ‘this and Pine Cottage; they are just houses, Thomas. Places to stay in, or whatever. Memories to
live
, and live
in
when you choose…’ He fell silent for a few seconds, watching the boy. Then said, softly, shaking his head, ‘But they are
not
home, Thomas… They are not
your
home.
Your
home lies where the rainbow begins. At Rainbow’s End. So does your life.’

Izzy fell back in his lounge
chair, seeming to deflate, leaving a perplexed and thoroughly confused Thomas staring at him.

‘What would you have me do, Izzy,’ he asked after some seconds, and Izzy heard the wretchedness in his voice.

‘I don’t know and I won’t pretend to Thomas.’ Izzy sighed. ‘What I can tell you, you’ve already heard twice: from Ariana and Joshi. I can do no better. You have to follow your heart, and before you tell me that’s what you’ve done, let me add this: it is sometimes alright to change your mind.’ A wry smile. ‘Or, as some people would say - to have a change of heart.’

He sat forward again. ‘Remember, Thomas,’ he said, ‘remember that I once
- albeit for different reasons - had to make the same decision; the same choice, as you. My choice made me a very happy and contented man.’ A probing, very serious look, then, ‘Will yours do the same? Or will it make you bitter and unhappy; and old before your time?’

Thomas sprang to his feet with an impatient sound. ‘I have to think, Izzy,’ he said. ‘I have to get out of here.’ He was pale and gave Izzy a twisted smile. ‘I do it best on my feet, Grammy used to say
. Think, I mean. Is it all right for me to go downstairs?’

Izzy looked surprised. ‘To the street?’ he asked, and Thomas nodded.

‘Alone?’ Another question and another nod.

‘I won’t go far,’ Thomas assured him. ‘Just a block or so. I’ll walk up and down… I need space, Izzy.
I need to be by myself for a while…’

Izzy’s look
was doubtful. ‘I don’t think so Thomas,’ he said. ‘It’s not a good idea. Not alone - not a boy, eleven years old.’

‘Almost
twelve.’ Thomas’ look was steady, and Izzy tried again, not at all sure of how to treat an eleven - almost twelve year old, in a situation like this. ‘Can’t I at least come with you then?’ he asked. ‘It’s very dark out, you know…’

Thomas smiled at the last, lamely uttered statement
; shook his head. ‘No, Izzy. I know it’s dark, but there’s plenty of light down on the street. It’s not much different than during the day.’ Adding, ‘I really
do
need to be alone. Besides,’ he fingered the crystal through his shirt’s fabric, ‘I have this to protect me, don’t I?’

Izzy’s look was still troubled, but after another minute of being subjected to the boy’s green-eyed stare, relented
. ‘Well, all right.’ He sighed - long-suffering. ‘But only in this block. You’ll stay between the two traffic lights?’ Thomas nodded.

‘You promise?’ Izzy asked.

‘I promise.’ Thomas smiled.

‘And no
t more than an hour?’

‘No more,’ Thomas assured the still not very happy old man.

*

The aging guard in the foyer was named Billy, and he was very surprised to see Thomas step out of the elevator by himself. ‘Evening, Mr. Thomas.’ He touched the peak of his cap
. ‘Going for a walk, are we?’

‘Good evening, Billy,’ Thomas returned his greeting
. ‘Just up and down the block, yes,’ he said. ‘I need to think.’

The guard frowned. ‘Does Mr. Greenbaum know
, then?’ he asked, glancing at his watch. ‘It’s after ten, already.’

‘Yes, he knows,’ Thomas
said, ‘and he said it’s alright, as long as I don’t go further than this block.’

Billy
beetled his bushy eyebrows. He’d worked for Izzadore Greenbaum almost thirty years, and knew the man for what he was: good and kind, and certainly not irresponsible. It was not his place to question him. He buzzed open the door to the street.

*

The city block had only two buildings on the one side; the Rainbow Building and one other, with an alley just wide enough to drive a lorry into, separating them. Both of their ground floors - all of the block, was taken up by shops: hairdressers, clothing boutiques, a jewellery shop, electrical outlet and repairs, a Chinese takeaway; they all catered mostly to the daytime traffic, and had already closed.

Thomas
took no notice of any of them - he’d told Izzy that he needed to think, and that’s what he did. It was a nice night to be out; a slight wind had taken away most of the pollution and left the air smelling fresher than usual. Very few people were about; there was almost no nightlife in this, and the surrounding four or five city blocks, a few restaurants only, like Christina’s, which was situated three blocks to the east.

And Thomas thought:
He thought about what he and Izzy had talked about; about a possible life here, or going back to Rainbow’s End; about Orson and Ariana, and the children… His mind was one large jumbled puzzle, and he - no matter how hard he tried - couldn’t seem to get a single piece to fall into place.

The
second time he passed the alley, Thomas thought he heard something, and stopped for a few seconds, peering into the dark and calling a soft “hello”: received no reply, and walked on again, shaking his head. I’m hearing things now, he thought wryly. On the next pass, the sound stopped him again, and he stood listening. Someone was crying, but when he called out again, the sound abruptly stopped once more. Looking to his left and right, to make sure nobody else was around, and after taking a deep breath to steady his own nerves, Thomas stepped into the dark.

The alley smelled of dirty drains and putrid vegetables, cloying and musty and dank, but it was warmer than the street. Street - and shop lights illuminated the first few metres, but deeper in, it was dark; the further, the darker. Thomas called out again, softly, but still received no reply; walked in a bit further and lit a fireball.

There were two doors, four or five
metres on: one on the left and one on the right - presumably leading into the back of the electrical shop on the Rainbow Building side; and the takeaway on the corner of the other. The takeaway’s door was partly obscured by a pile of black plastic refuse bags, some of which had been ripped open by cats or rats, spilling out rotten vegetables and other unidentifiable bits and pieces of what Thomas presumed was also food of some sort. He walked slowly further and the fireball accompanied him; and then he could see behind the bags and he stopped. A boy sat on the doorstep, hugging his knees. He was no more than six years old, with dark hair and big eyes, staring open-mouthed at the crackling, floating ball of fire.

*

His name was Eamon, and his grey eyes reminded Thomas of Orson’s. His clothing threadbare: stringy denim pants and a baggy yellow jersey; one running shoe gaped at the side, and his small belongings in a white plastic bag at his feet.

He wouldn’t talk at first, but after a slight “Push” couldn’t seem to stop, and T
homas let the fireball fizzle out, careful not to attract unwanted attention. It seemed suddenly very dark without its comforting presence.

He had run away from the man w
ho had fetched him and his baby sister from their flat that afternoon, Eamon said. His Da had died in a car accident a few months ago, and his mother hadn’t come home from her job as a waitress since two nights back. The baby cried all the time after she’d finished the bottles left by their mother, and the neighbours - fed-up - had eventually phoned the police. They - after being let in by the small boy, and looking in drawers and boxes for a while, spoke in adult whispers of the suicide they had a couple of nights ago - “jumped off a building’s roof, she did, poor woman”, and “look at this” - waving at the small flat; untidy and smelling of used nappies. “Must have been at her wit’s end.”

He’d seen a film of a boy his
own age, named Oliver Twist, Eamon said, and he wasn’t going to no orphanage, resolution - and fear - in his voice.

‘When did you last eat, Eamon?’ Thomas asked. ‘Are you hungry?’ He could see the boy’s nod in the dark, now that his eyes had adjusted to it, and
Thomas made two decisions. One - he would take Eamon back to the penthouse with him, and two - they would both Travel to Rainbow’s End the next day.

‘Come,’ he said to Eamon, and they both got up from the doorstep. He took the smaller boy’s hand in his own, and Thomas felt suddenly light as air, as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

*

And then they were blinded
and surprised by the beam from a torch and a taunting young voice. ‘Well, well,’ it said, ‘and what have we here?’

Black silhouettes filled the entrance to the alley,
bunched together, but enough to block all routes of escape. He couldn’t see any of their faces, but judging from their sizes, they were all children, Thomas thought. Some as tall as he, some a bit more, one or two the same size, or just slightly bigger than Eamon. ‘Who are you?’ he asked.

‘Nothing to do with you, rich boy
.’ The reply was snide, and accompanied by the torch’s light, moving slowly up and down Thomas’ body - taking in the elegant navy jacket, the snow-white shirt, the sharply creased off-white trousers. ‘Run along to Mamma, then,’ it said, mockingly. ‘Our business is with him.’ The flashlight’s beam jumped to Eamon, and Thomas felt his small hand grip tighter, saw the fear in his eyes.

‘I don’t think so,’
Thomas said. He felt himself getting angry; the crystal was suddenly hot against his chest and his heart beat very fast. Three or four of the dark silhouettes came slowly closer, and Thomas started a fireball: a large one. They
were
all just children; boys, he saw. All dressed in black. Their leader, presumably - he carried the flashlight and did the talking - had red hair and strange blue eyes. Surprise in them, but no fear.