Little Boy Blue

By Harper Kingsley

Ashlevarnis has enjoyed a blessed existence in the Pit, where he is the favored lover of Erusidamus, the Master of Gold. He is content with his life, but Franciscus has been his friend since childhood and pleas with him to flee to the human realm - a world where Franciscus will no longer be a serf and they can enjoy an unheard of freedom.

In the human realm, Ashlevarnis is known as Ashley Valentine and must find something to assuage the pain he feels over the loss of his Master. And so he joins a band and sets out to make music and build a future for himself.

Unfortunately, just as his band has begun to approach commercial success, the Master of Silver Ignipatros sends Her devils to kidnap Ashlevarnis as leverage against Erusidamus.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harper Kingsley
• Release date: Jun 15, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458128881

Harper Kingsley

Harper Kingsley is a science fiction and fantasy author living in Washington State.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The birth of a child was a joyous occasion. He kept careful track of every single birth in His domain, and though He allowed His duxaltu to watch over the birth of serfs, He was always there for the birth of a therapon or Master's child.

The child is born! a caretaker cried, barely poking a head out of the Birthing Chamber.

Erusidamus let out a sigh of relief. He had been present the few times a child had been stillborn or died soon after birth, and He had hated it. Those tiny bodies lying there, so still and cold looking, the skin turning blue, and the looks on the parents' faces as they gazed down on their child--a child that died before it even had a chance to live. It was a painful and lonely thing.

He waited two more hours after the birth, giving them time to clean the child and feed it and care for it a little. He spent His time completing some leftover paperwork and generally kicking His heels. It would have been easier for Him to just leave after He received word of the child's birth, and maybe if He had been another Master He might have, but He was the Master of Gold and He took His every responsibility seriously.

We are ready for You now, Master, a gentle-faced caretaker said. This was the kind of person anyone would feel comfortable with, sweet and kind with the kind of presence that bespoke of love for all the little newborns. There was something nice about thinking of a baby in this tender care. A part of Him could almost feel a bit jealous that He had ever had to grow up.

One of His guards held the door for Him to pass into the Birthing Chamber.

The parents stood off to one side, silent and composed. They had had time to prepare for His arrival and knew better than to attempt unwelcome conversation with Him. They were barely worth His notice, just two therapons.

The baby lay naked on the displaying table. A caretaker stood close to ensure that the baby stayed safe, but basically it was alone. It would face its first meeting with the Master completely unguarded, its mind open and malleable in its innocence, none of life's protections laid in place yet.

Erusidamus surveyed the child. Saw that it had the correct number of fingers and toes and was otherwise whole. It was an adorable baby, pink and beautiful and brand new. It was precious looking, with damp red curls and almond-shaped eyes, the kind of child He had always dreamed of having Himself someday. Seeing these children always gave Him a sense of the inevitable, His life of the future pressing back in on Him stronger than He had ever imagined. If He closed His eyes in these moments He could almost See the child He would have, could almost catch a glimpse of the partner He would share it with. It caused an ache in His chest that took days to dispel.

The child's name? He looked at the parents.

Ash... Ashlevarnis, Master, the voice was hesitant and nervous.

Erusidamus nodded and looked back at the child. Ashlevarnis. Ashes and bones. That is a name with history behind it. I am sure your child will grow into the greatness of the name you have given it.

The parents smiled, relieved.

It had been known that if He did not approve of a child's name, the child would have to be named again. The parents had been so certain of the name they had chosen for their child that they had been unable to think of a secondary or even third choice if the first was unacceptable. Neither one knew what they would have done if the Master had denied them the use of the name.

Drawing in a deep breath, Erusidamus reached out and touched the child on the forehead. His fingers warmed, the tips almost burning. He could feel the energy emanating from His center to pass down His arms and through His hands. The true test of His power was His ability to control the force of it--an energy that could topple whole cities focused down to a mere pinprick of heat.

The child seemed to flinch at His touch, but it did not cry. It just lay there, blinking dimly up at Him. Even as He lay the Mark on it, the child was silent, completely unafraid and patient with it. He felt a flare of pride at its stalwart nature. This baby would grow up to be a welcome addition to His service in whatever position He chose for it.

When He removed His hand, the Mark of His domain was inscribed on the child's forehead in glowing lines. As He watched, the Mark faded and disappeared from view, but its power was left behind. He would be able to call on the child whenever needed. He would hear whenever the child called His name.

May you grow into your name, Ashlevarnis, He whispered. Do not dishonor the history of your line.

The baby blinked upward. For a second its eyes locked on His, yellow on yellow.

March 2004

SAYING GOODBYE TO WONDERLAND

A tired looking construction site shut down for the afternoon. Heavy machinery rested quiet in a semicircle, waiting for the next day's work. There was a wealth of possibility in the tons of shaped metal, rubber and plastic. Piles of dirt settled in upon themselves; the just-tilled, almost fluffy look of the rich dark earth was already lightening, taking on the cast of the terrain around it, melding into normal background with a light dusting of white. Orange caution cones were set up around the work area to keep out the curious, as though bits of colored plastic could actually stop anyone from doing whatever they wanted--a weak human magic of rules and largely unwritten laws.

Two figures emerged from the depths of the earth. Their clothes were covered in red soil and they blinked at the bright light swelling around them. The day wasn't even close to being warm, but the sun shone above, reflecting off the thin layer of snow.

Where are we? one figure asked, sounding tentative and a little confused. He raised a hand to his eyes and looked around, his lip quivering even as he tried to stop it.

His stronger, more confident companion laughed. We are right where we want to be. I just did not think that they would build a pipe around the tunnel exit. We were lucky you could get us out.

It was not very hard. Weak Earth metals, you know. Still, the boy looked around in sudden doubt, "are you sure this is where we are supposed to be?"

His friend clapped him on the shoulder, raising a puff of red dust from his clothes. "I made sure of the coordinates. Do not worry. This is right where we want to be. The world is ours!"

Very well.

They wandered off across the landscape, unknowing that they had just left a construction area that was almost finished. If they had arrived even a week later they would have Gated into a steel pipe filled with rushing water and chunks of ice.

There was much they had yet to learn. At least one of them was excited about learning everything he could about this world and this life. And if his friend wasn't quite as enthusiastic, he had enough hope and energy for the both of them.

As they passed between the standing line of orange cones, one of the boys accidentally kicked one over. He didn't even look back, just walked on, not even noticing the clatter of plastic against the uprooted mounds of asphalt.

June 2004

ASHLEY

A gray beach with the sun reflecting off the water sparkling like diamonds. The sound of surf and waves so near the sound was completely touchable, yet far enough away that it could be allowed to fade into a background murmur. There were houses above the beach, wide spaces in-between them to offer the illusion of privacy. They were all the same--two-story ramshackle huts that were somehow bigger on the inside than on the outside, all sharing that same outer color scheme: blue-gray with white trim to match the ocean below.

The days had begun to run one into the next, blurring around the edges. There was something timeless and forever about his life, something he had never had before. There was no order, yet no chaos either; just a sort of endless passage that didn't touch him at all.

All he really cared about was the music and the sea. Everything else had blurred into yesterday for him and disappeared. He was lost here, just drifting through the days as though they were a dream. Everything was so new and strange and there was so much he couldn't touch, so much he simply could not wrap his mind around, which left him with a mind-numbing sense of void inside.

He sipped from a cold glass of juice and gazed out at the ocean, listening to the beat of the world. That soundless music vibrated inside of him, almost begging him to join in the life around him, but it wasn't the life he wanted or the world he saw in his dreams, the home he had left behind.

What have I become? he wondered. He knew it should have mattered to him, but he just couldn't make himself care. His life could end completely and it wouldn't matter. He had fallen down a deep well and had just ceased to give a damn.

The darkness is my friend, he thought. If the darkness swallowed me, I doubt it would even hurt.

Hey Ashes, what are you doing out here? a friendly voice asked.

He turned his head and could see the worry in his friend's eyes, knew that he had put it there, but there was nothing he could do to make it better. Nothing. I was just watching the waves.

Sometimes he thought about just coming right out and saying what he felt, but he knew he couldn't do it. Franciscus was his only friend here, and he couldn't stand the thought of ruining what they had. They went back a long way--a really long way.

Why do you sit out here so much? Franciscus asked, coming to plop down next to him in the sand.

Ashley shrugged. I don't know. I guess the ocean is such a primal force that it reminds me of us.

Oh Ashes, we've given up that life and become like everyone else. Let it go.

I can't, Ashley said. You may have forgotten life in the Pit, but I never will.

I haven't forgotten, Franciscus said. I'll never forget. It's just that we have a new life here, and I won't let the Pit taint what we've found.

"What you've found. Me, I'm still searching and striving to find my way. I wake up from dreams where I'm still in the Pit and I can't help the way I feel."

And how do you feel? Franciscus asked, looking at him intently.

Ashley stared out at the crashing waves, unable to meet those eyes. I miss it, he said slowly. I miss it so much that it hurts. He finally turned to look at Franciscus. I was made for life in the Pit, it's all that I know, and even though I hate myself for it and how it hurts you, I miss it. I miss the people and the places and my everyday life, but mostly I miss the Master and how He would control us, how He would love us.

You always were His favorite, Franciscus said. He sounded almost bitter. He had never been one of the Master's favorites, had never been one of the Master's anything.

Ashley smiled sadly. Well I'm not now, am I? I gave up my position and my old life to come here with you. And now I have nothing.

Nothing? Here in the Mortal Realm you could have anything and everything you want if you would only try, Franciscus said, irritated. Instead you mope around and do nothing. You haven't even gone out to see the world. The only things you have seen and done are looked at the damn sea, listened to the most depressing music you could find, and sleep. He growled in his throat, a sound of angry frustration. The whole world is waiting for you and you don't seem to care!

I care. But I can't help it that I miss the Pit and the Master, Ashley said. They are all that I've ever known. You're all that I have here, and I can't help it that I miss what I've given up.

And you don't think that I do?

Ashley looked at Franciscus thoughtfully, examining every bit of him. No, I don't think that you do. You've dreamed of leaving the Pit from your first conscious moment. This is what you've always wanted.

I thought it was what you wanted too, Franciscus said.

Ashley shook his head. I only wanted it because you did. You made the Mortal Realm sound so beautiful and wonderful, but I'm telling you straight out: it's not the Palace of Gold.

"Well I'm sorry I never experienced the wonder of the Master's love and that I dragged you away from the Palace of Gold kicking and screaming. I'm sorry that I brought you here and that I thought you would find a new life that you would like. I'm sorry. There, I said it. I'm sorry for everything."

Ashley sighed and touched Franciscus' knee. "No, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a pain. It's just so hard. My whole life is just suddenly different and I wasn't as ready for it as I thought I was going to be."

One side of Franciscus' mouth turned up. I know. I dragged you here and you came because I needed you.

Ashley grabbed Franciscus' hand, squeezing hard to show that he really meant what he said. "No! I came because you're my friend and I wanted to come. It's just... I don't really know anything about this world and I get scared."

Franciscus smiled at him. You don't need to be scared. I'm here with you and I won't leave you.

I know, but this world is still very frightening for me. It's going to take time.

They sat there, gazing out at the raging ocean and thinking their separate thoughts.

Ashley knew that Franciscus didn't understand his fear. Knew that Franciscus was so strong and brave that he couldn't imagine anyone not being just as fearless.

Ever since coming to this world Ashley had felt an emptiness inside. There was nothing known and familiar here. There was nothing of his world. He was so lonely and so afraid all the time and there were no words he could say that would magically make everything good again. This was not his home, and he didn't know that it ever could be.

Dinner that night was strange and uncomfortable. Without saying anything to Ashley, Franciscus had invited a group of humans home with him--five college students he had met at the local tavern the night before.

Ashes, relax and be your usual charming self, Franciscus whispered into his ear.

Ashley swallowed uncomfortably and wished he was sitting back on the beach. At least there he could be himself and not have to worry about making mistakes. He didn't know what to say to these people. They were human and strange, alien to everything he had ever known.

So, man, what do you do? a young man asked, looking right at Ashley. There was something in his eyes that made Ashley uncomfortable. It seemed as though those eyes were trying to devour him whole, as though they wanted to suck all the life out of him and keep it for themselves.

I don't really do anything, he said softly, battling down the need to hunch his shoulders and fold in on himself until he disappeared. I listen to music and gaze at the ocean. It is very beautiful.

Are you taking a break? a brown haired girl asked. I wanted to take a couple of years off before starting college, but my mom wouldn't let me. She said it was education first, fun later. She really shot my idea down quick. I practically got whiplash.

Ashley tried a smile but couldn't find anything to say.

He had no real human education and was barely able to read English, and then it was an experiment in patience, trying to control his frustration at stumbling over words that should have been simple. He doubted that he would have been able to graduate elementary school, much less enter college. He had nothing in common with these people. He was completely out of his element. What could he really say?

We just moved here, Franciscus said. We were lucky this house had just gone up empty so we could get it for cheap.

{What are their names again?} Ashley Asked, meeting Franciscus' eyes across the table.

A smile quirked the other's lips. {The yellow-headed boy is Sam, the dark skinned girl is Monica, the blue haired boy is Shane, the girl in the red dress is Lily and the dark haired boy is Gregor, though for some reason everyone calls him Scooby.}

{As in that ridiculous cartoon dog that I was watching on television?} Ashley Asked disbelievingly.

Franciscus nodded, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He wanted to laugh but was restraining himself. {Try talking to them,} Franciscus Said. {Maybe you will find out they're more like us than you think.}

Ashley sighed. So, uh, Scooby, ridiculous name, how do you like your school?

Scooby sipped at his beer. Oh, I don't go to school. I play guitar for my band.

"You make music?" Ashley felt his eyes go wide with wonder. He had never imagined he would meet such a person in a place like this. Had never thought that he could talk to one without knowing the complete uniqueness of the individual instantly. As though the music would shine out of their very soul, blinding him with the radiance of a gift he could only envy.

The boy nodded. Sure, though we've been thinking about dumping our front man. Don't tell him, this to the others. He's been going heavy with the drugs and that goes against the image of the band. Especially when the music suffers for it.

You should have Ashes sing for you, he has a wonderful voice, Franciscus suggested.

Ashley felt his mouth fall open. Him make music? But that was only for the highest of high, those chosen at birth for cultivation and training. He had never even been considered for it.

At birth, those destined to make music were taken away and ever after kept separate. Some of the males were castrated, and others were fed a lifetime of drugs to enrich their voices. All of the music-makers were given voice enhancements to make their already beautiful voices even more so.

Music-makers were almost another species, honored and revered above all others. He had always wished that he were one of their number, had whispered his sad secret dream only to Franciscus and no one else, because it was foolish to ever think that he might have been one of them. They were the most special in a species known for its ability to produce wonderful and unique individuals. They were the glorious and unattainable dream, never to be touched by one such as him, immured too deeply in the ideals of the flesh. Their perfection was untroubled by the worry of the worlds around them, and their songs shone with the power of their faith in the greatest and most lasting thing of all--the beauty of the soul.

Now the one person he had felt he could trust completely was mocking him, twisting his dream into a dagger to gouge his flesh. The agony of it was so terrible--not just the betrayal, but that he could not find the will in him to retaliate, to use any of Franciscus' dreams against him. It was a sign of weakness that he could not respond well enough, could not take his pound of flesh.

Must you be so cruel? Tears filled his eyes, and he leapt to his feet. I thought you were my friend!

He ran out of the room.

SCOOBY

What was that about? Monica asked.

Franciscus stared after his friend, then shrugged. He doesn't understand. This is all just too new and he hasn't seen enough of this land to know all of the opportunities he can take advantage of.

Scooby felt a little weird. Franciscus was talking like it was nothing, but he had seen the guy's face when his friend ran out. There had been a lot of guilt and pain there.

His name is Ashes? Scooby asked.

Franciscus smiled. Not truly. His name is Ashley. I just call him Ashes. It is my personal name for him.

Huh. There wasn't anything else he could really say. He was still reeling from the overwhelming visual pleasure of Ashley. His ears were ringing from the memory of that voice. He felt a little numb.

He had just sat there, that's what felt the worst. He had had the chance to talk to the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and he had blown it by just sitting there like an idiot. And when he had spoken, he had somehow said the wrong thing, though he still couldn't understand what it was. He just knew that he had ruined the single best opportunity he had ever had.

Where did the two of you meet? Sam asked. He had always been a rather nosy bugger, always nudging in where he didn't really belong.

Franciscus looked a little uncomfortable. We lived near each other for our entire lives, but we only really met when we were teenagers. He's my best friend in the whole world, and that's why he moved here with me.

Uh huh. When Franciscus wasn't looking, Sam shared a look with Shane that spoke volumes. Both snickered.

Scooby rolled his eyes and wondered what was wrong with the world. Everyone was acting like kids about something that wasn't really that big a deal. Then he wondered if Franciscus and Ashley really were together, then wondered why he cared. It was none of his business, and he should leave it alone for his own good.

He drew in a steadying breath, then lifted his beer for a large swallow--as if alcohol was going to make everything all right.

When he had first come in and seen the shining silverware, crisply folded linen napkins and sparkling crystal, he had felt a little afraid. He wasn't prepared for anything formal and didn't know what was expected. Then Ashley had come in.

Franciscus had said something to the boy, and Ashley had nodded and disappeared for a moment. He had returned with a tray bearing an aged bottle of red wine and two pitchers of beer. Scooby had felt like the gods sent Ashley to bring him what he most needed to hold himself together. And now, gulping his beer, he tried not to think about how Ashley had run out; tried not to think about the torment he had seen on the boy's face. There had been so much hurt there that it had made his own chest ache--he had dealt with broken dreams himself, knew how much it hurt to know you would never have what you most wanted and that no one really cared, especially not the world.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. Excuse me, but can you tell me where the bathroom is? he asked.

Through that door and down the hall. Third door on the left, Franciscus said, pointing without really looking up. He was gazing down into the depths of his glass of wine as though there were answers hidden in there. There was a slightly pinched look to his mouth, thoughts hidden inside that head of his.

Thanks.

Scooby wandered through the house, looking but not really looking.

Fate smiled on him.

Ashley's room was across the hall from the bathroom, and he had left the door open. Scooby peered in, not really wanting to intrude, but being urged on by something he couldn't have named.

The boy was lying across the bed, sobbing as though his heart had been broken. He had kicked his sneakers off and his socked feet pointed toward the door. His face was half-buried in a pillow, and the lemon-yellow comforter was crumpled around him. His red hair spilled around his face so only snatches of his features could be seen, beautiful glimmers that made Scooby's stomach ache.

Swallowing a mouthful of spit, he stepped through the door. Scooby felt a bit like he was invading Ashley's personal space, but he couldn't leave it alone. It was wrong that someone so completely aesthetically pleasing should be in pain like this, not when there was something he could do to make it better, comforting words he could offer.

The room was large, looking even larger because of its barrenness. All that was in it was the double bed and a closed closet door. The floor was polished hardwood and made the room look spare and somehow untouched. It didn't look like anyone had ever lived here. The room was somehow desolate and ignored, like the boy that sobbed out his heartbreak on the bed.

Scooby carefully touched the boy's shoulder. Muscles clenched and twitched under his hand. Are you all right? he asked.

Ashley turned his head to look at him. Tears seeped from behind his orange-tinted glasses. What are you doing here? he demanded, his voice breaking. What do you want?

Nothing. I just wanted to know if you were all right.

Ashley snorted a laugh. Yeah right. I want to go home.

Why don't you? Scooby asked, curious.

I can't.

Why not?

Ashley's face twisted and it took him a few minutes to control himself. I can't go home because of how I left.

Scooby sat down on the bed carefully. What do you mean?

I ran away with Franciscus during the night. We didn't even tell anyone we were leaving. I didn't say goodbye to anyone. He turned his face back into the blanket.

Why did you leave?

Ashley's voice was muffled. Franciscus was my friend. As if that explained it all, and maybe it did.

Why were you so upset when Franciscus suggested you could sing for us? Scooby asked.

Ashley made a sound deep in his throat. Because I can't.

Scooby frowned. From the way the boy spoke, he knew that this was a very touchy subject. He would have to be careful. Why not? he asked.

I wasn't chosen to be a music-maker.

Scooby frowned, confused. What do you mean?

Music-makers are chosen at birth, and I was never even considered. There was something almost bitter in Ashley's voice, though it was aimed more at himself than anyone else. As though he was thinking it was his fault he wasn't good enough. A terrible birth defect that he should have been able to overcome, but hadn't because he wasn't good enough.

That's pretty weird, Scooby said. He to wonder where Ashley was from. I've never heard of anything like that, he said. Here in America, anyone can be in a band if they can play an instrument or sing, and sometimes they don't have to do either and they're considered musicians because they say they are, never mind that they suck.

Ashley abruptly sat up. He brought his knees against his chest and squeezed them tightly with his arms. There was such an intent look on his face that it was almost frightening. Anyone is allowed to make music here? he demanded, his eyes on Scooby's face, trying to absorb him up, proof that what he said was true.

Yeah. Scooby nodded. There's a lot of crap out there, but our freedom with music has resulted in some really great stuff.

Ashley was looking at him in such a way that he felt a nervous fluttering in his stomach. No one had ever looked at him like that, as if he was the center of their world. He could have held the universe on his shoulders with the power of a look like that focused on him. Warmth shot through him and he wondered if he was sweating through his clothes.

If I wanted, Ashley said hesitantly, I could make music?

Scooby nodded. Sure, anyone can.

He had never seen anyone move so fast. One minute Ashley was sitting there looking vulnerable and alone, but slightly hopeful; the next he was launching himself across the bed. Arms wrapped tight around Scooby like steel bands and a face pressed against his neck. He could feel Ashley's heartbeat fluttering through his skin and the warmth of breath tickling the ends of his hair.

He held the boy and wondered if he ever wanted to let go. He had never been so close to anyone so entirely beautiful. He would probably never get a chance like this again.

Sex had never been that big a deal for him. It was a catch as catch can sort of thing that tilted more toward worthiness than anything else. He only slept with people he liked and he wasn't exactly a slut. He wasn't one of those people that screwed around so much that faces and names blurred together and slid through the cracks forgotten. Each person was an individual, and he treated them as such--precious nighttime flutterings his heart refused to ever let go. He could call up the face of every person he had ever loved, could trace each feature of their body as though they were right in front of him.

Holding Ashley was like magic. It made him feel nervous and safe at the same time. His heartbeat pounded and his mind slowed down and sped up until he didn't know where he was or even who he was. His heart felt like it was going to shatter in his chest and he didn't even care because he somehow knew that this was exactly where he wanted to be, forever, with Ashley wrapped around him tight.

He could feel the life in Ashley. It made him excited and nervous, yet at the same time it felt good and clean, a purity he would never be able to express in words. Everything was confused in him. All he knew was that he never wanted to let go; never wanted this moment to end. He breathed the scent of Ashley into his soul, stored it where he would never forget.

Then Ashley pulled away. The moment was broken. Scooby watched the tattered edges of that closely binding minute fading away, and somewhere he was a little sad. He would never have that precious newness again.

Ashley's shoulder-length dark red hair was wild about his head, and his golden skin sported a hint of a flush as though he were fevered. Let me make music with you, he said fervently. I'll do anything you want, just let me make music with you.

Scooby felt blood rush to his face and was glad he had ethics. If he didn't... well, an offer like that wouldn't get too far. You don't have to do anything. Just come to my garage tomorrow night and meet the band. We'll play some of our songs and you can try out.

There was such a glowing look on Ashley's face that he felt uplifted. He had done the right thing and it was good.

FRANCISCUS

Sitting in the dining room with the young humans, Franciscus felt as though a sun had gone nova in his chest. The burst of Ashley's sudden joy left him almost breathless. Tears prickled his eyes, but he ignored them. He had to pretend that nothing special had happened, that everything was as normal as it had always been, even when the world had just shifted on its axis.

From the first moment he had known him, Franciscus had loved Ashley. They were friends, and somewhere inside he felt as though they had been meant to meet. It had felt as though they had formed some invisible connection. It was because of Ashley that he had been driven by the impulse to better himself, to find some kind of happiness in his life rather than to just grind through each day, looking forward to nothing because it was all the same.

Franciscus had hope now, and he had Ashley to thank for that. It felt good to know that he had finally given something back to his dearest friend.

Though he had said nothing about it, he had felt the pain in Ashley's heart. Ashley would never have complained, but for as long as Franciscus had known him, Ashley had been looking for something--something he was never going to find if he stayed in the Pit. He would forever be denied the earth shattering joy that he deserved. He wouldn't have been unhappy, would have been content to live out his every day--but at the same time there would have been whole realms of emotion he would never get to explore, and something inside of him would have quietly died.

To feel Ashley's joy bursting through him made Franciscus feel as though he had finally done something right in his life. He had made his friend happy, and though he was still searching for his own life's dream he had the contentment of knowing that he had the chance to look. If he had stayed in the Pit his life would have been an endless stream of sameness. Here there was the hope that someday he would find something that would make him as happy as creating music made Ashley.

A smile curved Franciscus' lips as he raised his glass of wine in a silent salute.

June 2004

ASHLEY

He felt excitement burn through him and could barely sit still. It felt as though he had been plugged into the biggest electrical current in the world. More energy was flowing through him than when he had curiously poked the tines of a fork into one of the electrical sockets to see what would happen.

Are you certain this is what you want? Franciscus asked.

Yes! he fairly shouted. Why didn't you tell me that I could make music here? My desire, my dream...

He was so filled with energy and excitement that he wasn't scared like he usually was when Franciscus drove the deadly machine. He was able to ignore the fast