The Book of Thomas - Volume One: Heaven by Robert Boyczuk

Author:Robert Boyczuk
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781927469286
Publisher: ChiZine Publications
Published: 2012-08-20T04:00:00+00:00

Rome

“He’ll be back.”

Lark looked hopeful at my words, but the Jesuit merely shrugged. “You wouldn’t be the first boys abandoned here—nor, I fear, the last.”

We had been waiting for Kite in the upper ante-room for near an hour. But that was only a guess. Like all Assumptions, there were no windows, and so no way to accurately gauge the passage of time.

“We’re going to be in the choir of the Cappella Sixtina,” Lark said, apropos of nothing. “Ignatius promised.”

The Jesuit raised his eyebrows, giving us the once over. “You ought not tell lies, boy.” He looked irritated, perhaps at having to keep an eye on us.

“We are,” Lark insisted.

“The schola cantorum does not take boys unheard,” the Jesuit said. “It is rare for them to grant an audition, and rarer still for them to accept a boy. As best as I can remember, they have taken only two new boys in the last five years.”

Lark looked crestfallen. But this didn’t concern me, knowing that I wasn’t for the choir; I was more anxious about how close on our heels Bishop Singleton might be. I knew Rome to be a large, complicated city; even with Ali’s litter, once away from the Assumption it would be easy for us to disappear into the labyrinthine tangle of streets. I trusted Kite—up to a point—and I’d no doubt he had a much better idea how soon the Bishop would arrive. Even so, I couldn’t push away my worry. What if something had happened to him? I realized I was tapping my foot, and that the Jesuit was watching me do so. I stopped. For his part, Lark looked on the verge of tears. I was trying to think of something reassuring to say to him, when, from the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Ali stir on her litter. The light in the room was poor, and when I looked directly, she lay as motionless as she had since the attack. I had to stare for a full minute before I detected the slight rising and falling of her chest that confirmed she still lived.

Lark began sniffling.

Compassion must have overridden the Jesuit’s irritation, for he said to Lark, “Perhaps he just stopped for an ale. . . .”

I was about to suggest that I go in search when there was a pounding on the door. The Jesuit shuffled over and opened it. Kite strode back into the room. Without a word, he handed me his halberd and scooped up Ali. We followed him into the ante-chamber.

“And what am I supposed to do with this?” the Jesuit shouted after us, waving his hand at the abandoned litter.

“Whatever you wish,” Kite replied, and I heard the Jesuit blow out an exasperated breath before slamming and barring the door.

We crossed the room to the inner portcullis. A Garde posted there shouted up an order, and the portcullis was jerked upwards, the rasp of iron on stone deafening. A moment later we passed under the second portcullis and I blinked at the light, a shock to my eyes even though it was now dusk.

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