The Dragon in the Theatre CH 4 + 5

4

An odious man



The Hunters sat at a bench eating their breakfast pastries, steam rising from the wrapped parcels they held tight in their hands. Elliott stuffed his food into his mouth as if it was in danger of being poached from his hands from a bird circling overhead whilst John watched him and eat his own slowly, remembering to chew. Elliott finished his Pastry quickly, and wiped the crumbs away from his mouth.

‘Dad, In the Theatre, did you ever find a secret room?’ Elliott asked his father.

Father did not look at Elliott, but he smiled.

‘He has a lot in the Theatre. That building has been there for years, and he hasn’t left the building in the last ten. When we arrived here he moved in and took over, spending all our money restoring the place. Your Grandfather opened the place as a working theatre but Mister Poyle wouldn’t allow it to stay open.’

‘He has a magic room. Did you know that.’ Elliott replied.

John laughed then put his arm around his son. He could tell his son was about to burst if not allowed to talk. John had thought about the Theatre many times over the years and his Father’s obsession with it. He wished he understood it, but he could not comprehend his Father’s choice of a place over his family. He wondered to himself if there was in fact more to the Theatre than he had previously understood. Had Elliott discovered something about his Grandfather that explained the old man’s behaviour?   

‘Go on son tell me about.’ He too was now curious.

‘I found this room that I didn’t remember being there. I’ve been in that part of the theatre before, first balcony, and this door wasn’t there, it’s new. I went through the door and inside I found a Library. Not just full of books either, it was full of all kinds of Treasure.’ But before he could say anything more a shadow fell over the two Hunter’s.

‘Treasure, really?’ interrupted an odiously large man with a pale complexion noticeably contrasted by his thick black beard. He stood in front of them, uninvited and imposing. A large bulbous man dressed in a royal blue tunic coat with gold leaf stitching. Full of self-importance and pomposity, the man stood in front of them staring down his nose at them.

‘Hello Mr Poyle,’ Father said. ’You know my son Elliott.’ Elliott could feel his Father’s dislike of the man. John was being polite, but it was not based out of respect, it was based out of something else, Elliott could tell, but he did not know what made his father respond in this way. John’s eyes were focused on the man before them, but all the time he had one hand placed in front of Elliott, shielding him. 

‘Of course, Elliott Hunter, I believe you will be in the selection at the Academy this week yes?’ Poyle spoke every word to its full pronunciation, making the most of every opportunity to sound superior. 

Elliott did not respond. He just stared at Poyle, not acknowledging his question. Elliott did not like Mr Poyle, and not just because of his Father’s suspicion. Normally Elliott could ‘feel’ a person, but when he looked at Poyle he sensed nothing. It was not something he had ever talked about but he had always felt an echo of any person when he first met them in his head. It is as if a shadow of their self joined with him. The echo was always dominated by their strongest trait. With Lucien he felt honesty, with his father an overwhelming sense of protection. But with Poyle there was nothing. Elliott felt a void where he had expected something else to be and it unnerved him. Poyle was a dark space; empty like a deep well and for the first time ever Elliott was both disturbed by this and relieved all at once. He found himself staring at the centre of his mass as if looking for something he knew not to be there. 

‘He’s shy,’ Father tried to cover for him, ’He gets very talkative when he wants to be.’

‘Well let’s hope so. It would be an awful shame for a promising student to fail their assessment and end up with a life of manual labour would it?’ Poyle’s face reminded Elliott of a desert lizard with a pointy nose and narrow eyes. He could not imagine anyone trusting this man.

Father could hear the sneer in Poyle’s voice. Poyle lingered. He wanted to ask a question, Elliott could tell, but something was stopping him. It was as if he was a predator who had a sniff of prey and was hovering for the kill. No one in Prosperity liked Poyle, but John knew there was something about him that was deceitful and vain, but had helped him to achieve and retain power. Poyle’s eyes were now fixed on Elliott, his pupils closing in. It was as if he too could sense what the boy could see, that Elliott considered the man to be a mystery. For a moment Poyle swore to himself that the boy was looking straight into his soul and he felt a chill run up his spine. Poyle could not bear it any longer, contact with normal people and in an instant Poyle turned on his heel and walked away from them both and off towards the main town building. He left without saying a word.

‘That guy is just odd,’ Elliott said. ‘What do you think he wanted?’ His eyes followed Poyle as he walked away.

‘I don’t know,’ John replied. But he suspected he did. Poyle had heard the word treasure and one thing John knew was that Poyle was ultimately only interested in himself. If he thought there was something in the Theatre worth having then he thought Poyle was sure to go after it, whether it was legal or not. He wondered whether or not he should warn his Father. Poyle had closed the Theatre down all those years ago for a reason and there was plenty of bad blood between Poyle and John’s father. What if Poyle had suspected something then and that’s why he had tried to get his hands on the Theatre? John felt certain there was more going on than he could see, but he had no idea what it was. 

‘Come on son, I need to pick up my things from the Boat.’ John took Elliott’s hand and they carried on up the street towards the docks.  They left the market square and walked down the quieter streets towards the stony path that led to the shipyards.

         Elliott felt the bumpy stones of the cobbled street through his shoes and they were uncomfortable. They were the only people heading towards the docks. Everyone else was heading into town. A man with a horse pulling a cart stacked high with crates passed them, the smell almost too much for Elliott to bear. It was he smell of fresh fish caught in the sea now packed in crates of ice. Another man walked behind the cart, and as John and Elliott passed he stopped and smiled at them.

         ‘John,’ the man called out, ‘was everything okay?’ John turned, recognising the voice. It was Coleman; the Captain of the fishing vessel John worked for.

         ‘I’m sorry Jed, my son’s been having a few difficulties.’ Jed Coleman, a big bear of a man looked down at the boy with a smile that went from ear to ear. Jed looked down at Elliott.

         ‘Are you going to be fine now with yer father, son?’

         ‘Yes sir,’ Elliott replied politely, to a grinning Jed.          

         ‘Well I’m glad. Can I talk to yer father for a moment lad?’  The two adults walked to one side, Jed Coleman putting his arm round John. Elliott stayed where he was. ‘Will you be ok John, do you need some time? There’s a big day coming up for him isn’t there?’

         ‘There is Jed, but he just does not seem to realise what could happen to him if it does not go well. I’ve tried to explain it to him.’

         ‘It’s not easy talking to a boy. Don’t forget I had two myself,’ Coleman stated shaking his head, ‘Listen I was thinking, why don’t you take a couple of days and be around for him. Don’t miss the things you need to be there for if you understand my meaning.’

         ‘Are you sure Jed?’ John appeared a little worried but at the same time relieved. He had not been sure how he would be able to work and attend the selection as well. ‘I really appreciate this.’ He felt a huge amount of relief.

          ‘It’s fine John. You’re one of my best men. Look I’d best be catching up with the boys, I’ll speak to you tomorrow.’ But before he had had a chance to step away Elliott had approached him. As was typical of Elliott the boy did not speak but he looked up at the big man, smiling. Coleman looked back down at him. ‘How are you Elliott, Can I help you son?’

Elliott looked at him for a few seconds then with a smile simply told him, ‘I know you think it will be fine. But you need to get it fixed. If you don’t you will all drown.’

        Coleman looked stunned, but he clearly did know what Elliott was referring to. John took Elliott by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes. ‘What is it son? What did you see?’ But Elliott did not answer, not straight away. He turned away from his father and looked again at Mr Coleman and asked him, ‘Do you know what I mean?’

        ‘I think so,’ Coleman replied. Coleman looked at John. ‘There was a problem with the hydraulic pump on the engine this morning, but I didn’t have time to get it fixed. I was going to leave it until next week. Is that what you mean Elliott, lad? But how did you know about it?’

        ‘I can see a metal box about this big,’ and he held out his hands about a foot apart, ‘and it has a pipe going in at each end and hums.’

        ‘That’s it,’ Coleman responded, ‘it maintains hydraulic pressure on board.’

        ‘If you don’t get it fixed, it’s going to explode. It will destroy the boat, and you will all drown.’

      ‘How? How did you know about it?’ Coleman pleaded.

      Elliott looked up at his father first as if asking permission to speak. John nodded, giving him his approval.           

      ‘Sometimes I can feel what will happen or what could be. This is too strong though. It has to be true, it’s not just a possibility. Please promise me you will get it fixed. You can change what should happen.’ Coleman could see from the look on Elliott’s face that this was no story, no lie. ‘Okay son, I promise, I won’t take the boat out until I get it looked at.’

        Elliott’s grin was ear to ear; it felt good for him to be believed by someone other than his father.

        ‘Mr Coleman, when I finish at the Academy can I join the crew of your boat?’

      The question took both Coleman and John by surprise. John was the first to respond. ‘Elliott I know you’re always asking me about the boat, but I’m surprised.’

      Coleman looked at John, his mouth turned downwards. ‘John, you known how much respect I have for you, but who I can take on is controlled by the evaluation level given at the Academy. You’re the only exception I have even been able to make.’ He turned and addressed Elliott. ‘You’ll need to get a tradesmen evaluation at the academy tomorrow or I cant take you on. I hope you understand.’

Elliott seemed to understand what Coleman was saying.           

        ‘It looks like we wont be pushing out tomorrow after all. I’ll see you in a few days. Best of luck.’ The big man smiled once more and turned making grand strides to catch up with his cart that was a fair distance ahead.

‘When can I come out on the boat with you dad?’  John’s response came not from his mouth at first but his eyes. That was exactly what he did not want, his son following him to a life at sea, but this was the first thing that Elliot had ever actually shown an interest in. ‘Why do you want to join the crew son?’

‘I think the sea may be quiet, not so many voices out there. The land is too crowded too noisy, too many things pushing their way into my head. Out their I may find some peace.’    John wrapped his arms around the boy. ‘Well if I have a few days off I needn’t go to the boat. Come on son lets get home.’ He was relieved but he knew there were some things he just could not control.                              

Once home John pushed the code into the keypad on the entrance locking mechanism. The numbers themselves were practically worn away and the keys resisted, so he pressed hard. He pulled the door open and pushed Elliott through, then pulled the door shut behind him. You didn’t leave the doors open any longer than you had too here. It was widely known that an open door was an easy target for the thieves and bandits that patrolled the streets at the north end of town, and once in the building a thief would wait until dead of night then strip each and every residence in the ring. It did not happen often but that was no reason to take chances.

Each domestic ring had fourteen residences, each housing a family, four stories high. These residencies were reserved for families and were amongst the most desired in Prosperity because of their size and relative comfort. Four rooms to each residence meant that often families had a degree of privacy and space and room for children to play. Elliott and John considered themselves very lucky, as they were one of the smallest families to have a residence here. They walked to the central stairwell.

‘How are you today young man?’ An older lady with an open front door spoke as they walked past. Her home smelt of baking.

‘Good afternoon Mrs Kasterr, How are you today?’ John replied.

‘Good and how’s the younger man?’

But Elliott did not speak, he just looked down at his shoes as they stopped in front of her door.

‘He doesn’t talk much does he John?’

‘Sometimes he doesn’t stop talking trust me,’ he replied, ‘other times nothing.’

‘When he has something to say I’m sure he’ll say it. Would he like a cocoa biscuit?’

Elliott smiled and walked forward. She stepped out of her front door and held forward a plate covered in brown round biscuits covered in rich chunky chocolate. Elliott picked up the top biscuit and immediately bit into it. He gave Mrs Kasterr a broad smile, which she returned to John.

‘Thank you Mrs Kasterr,’ Elliott finally said, then father and son walked off towards the bottom of the staircase. Their residence was on the fourth level and they walked up all the stairs until they got to their floor. Their front door was green and again John typed in the keycode opening the door. Elliott ran in and John flipped on the lights as Elliott threw off his coat and ran into his bedroom.

‘Dad where are my cards?’

‘Where did you leave them?’

John took his own coat off and hung it on a stand next to the front door. He pointed at Elliott’s Coat, and motioned for Elliott to pick it up and pass it to him. Elliott picked the coat up.

‘I left them on my bed.’

‘Well that’s probably where they are them.’

Elliott walked into his room.

‘They’re here.’

‘That’s a relief,’ John said smiling to himself, amused by the boy’s concerns. John walked into the kitchen.

‘Come and sit down.’

Elliott did as asked and sat at the small table in the corner of the kitchen bringing a small pack of cards with him. ‘You know you have your evaluation coming up don’t you,’ John reminded him.

Elliott did not answer.

‘It’s important you know’

Elliott continued looking at his cards, his eyes not deviating their gaze.

John became agitated.

‘Can you talk to me please?’

Elliott didn’t respond. Then he stood up and left the table and walked away with his cards. He did not look at his father.  He walked into his room and closed the door behind him.

‘Elliott,’ John shouted, ‘I need to talk to you.’

John walked over to Elliott’s door, then just stood and waited for a moment. He opened the door and walked through. His son was already asleep, motionless wrapped tight in his blanket on his bed.

‘Ok son, I get the picture.’

John walked in and put his hand on his son’s shoulder just firmly enough that the boy woke.

‘I’m sorry; I need to take you back to school. Get yourself changed.’

They left home again almost as soon as they had arrived, John leading the way with his reluctant companion trailing somewhat behind. The walk did not take long but it was conducted in silence and John realised that the happiness of just an hour or so ago had already been lost to history. Such was the way with Elliott. His mood could change with the wind, as if he changed into a different person at whim. They arrived at the school gates, an imposing stone structure with wrought iron gates guarded by a sentry who appeared to be guarding something far more than a school. The guard approached the pair from his blue wooden hut as they arrived. He took off his golden helmet and addressed John first.

‘State your business please sir.’

‘I’m returning my son to the Academy,’ John replied. Elliott was hiding behind his father. The Guard glanced at Elliott, seeing his uniform and he nodded at John acknowledging the boy’s status as a pupil.

‘I’ll take him in for you sir. You can say your goodbye’s here.’

There was no emotion in the guard’s voice, as if he viewed this as merely a formality.

‘Son, you just need to get through the next few days. Once you get your assessment we can talk about what happens next.’  John had knelt down to look his son in the eyes but Elliott avoided his stare, as he always did. He turned and walked away and said nothing, resigned to his return. He joined the guard who escorted the boy through the gates whilst John watched. Elliott’s head hung low but as he passed through the gate and it closed behind him he turned and gave a small wave to his father. It was not much John thought but it was something at least more than he normally received from his son. John stood there until he saw Elliott walk across the courtyard and into the main academy building then he turned and left.

After classes Elliott returned to his dorm room. He had had to spend the day alone with his tutor Loctus because he had been off campus. Lucien was sitting on his bed, directly opposite Elliott’s. There were six other beds in the room, four on each side but they were the only 2 boys in the room. The room was dark, as there were only small slit windows at the very top of the room near the ceiling. Elliott did not speak to his friend. He slung his bag under his bed then lay down on the bed, his face buried in his pillow.     

‘I never got to say thank you,’ Lucien said from his bunk.

Elliott didn’t move, but he had heard his friend because his eye glanced over.

‘They wont come near me now. Today’s been brilliant and that’s all because of what you did.

Elliott sat up and turned to his friend.

‘But I don’t know what I did, not really. I just woke up and it had happened.’

‘Doesn’t matter. Yesterday Pollux would have hit me any chance he got, today he wont even look at me. Best day of my life, all because of you.’ Lucien stood up. ‘Come on lets go to dinner. I cant wait to see what they do when they see you.’

The two boys left there dorm room and went to have their meal and everywhere they went the other children spoke of the two boys who had spent the night in the forest and how Pollux had come running back screaming because of Elliott Hunter. Elliott heard it all in his head and it made his head hurt, but for the first time he did not seem to mind.     

That night all Elliott could see in his dreams was Poyle. It was real to him, as if he was in the room. He felt as though he was the shadow, and all around him the events he could see were real.

He saw Poyle enter the Council building and step into the private glass elevator that would take him to his office. From that moment on Elliott was stood behind Poyle feeling everything through Poyle’s eyes. Poyle’s personal assistant Iratus was waiting for him.

‘Good morning Sir, Is there anything particular I can get you this morning?’

The door closed and the elevator started ascending.

‘Actually, yes. I Think I would like to visit the recording rooms.’

‘Really, Sir?’

Poyle looked down at Iratus with displeasure. Iratus was a small man only a fraction of Poyle’s significant stature, but he was efficient and that had made him valuable to Poyle in the past. Every aspect of him betrayed that efficiency from his dress to his use of very few words.

‘Arrange it please, once I’ve been to my study. That will be all, Iratus.’

The door to the Elevator opened and Poyle stepped out onto the top floor office that was his alone. He walked to the far end of the office where his desk and chair were. Coiled around the base of his chair was his pet lizard Ignatius. When it saw its master the creature’s eyes opened wide and it leapt up into his arms.

‘After breakfast are you Ignatius?’

The creature let out a low yelp, then dropped down to the floor. Poyle opened a drawer in his desk and took out a bag filled with dry scraps of meat. He threw them to the floor and the creature eagerly swallowed them.

‘What do you think Ignatius, is Iratus after my job?’

The creature stared up at its master its expression almost bemused. Poyle walked past and looked at his refection in an ornate mirror that hung above his desk. He looked into his own eyes.

‘Do you think the boy was right? Has he been hiding treasure in the theatre all this time?’

Poyle’s face loosened from the proud man that entered the room, he started to fade from a confident man into one whose guard was down. His mind was racing.

‘I need money Ignatius. My investors are impatient. The manufactories simply aren’t paying what I need them to. Business is bad.’

Then the image of Poyle in the mirror broke away from the trappings of the real Poyle and spoke to him.

‘You know what to do.’ Was all it said and the face in the mirror was frozen whilst the real Poyle looked on in shock.

Poyle stepped backwards, staggering as he did so, beads of sweat dripping from his brow.

‘What trickery is this? Who is responsible? Iratus if this is your doing I will have your head!’ he screamed.

‘Don’t be a fool, who else would speak to you this way,’ the reflection responded with a dry smile, ‘But you?’ Poyle realized the reflection was right. No one would dare address him in such a manner particularly not his assistant, who would grovel rather than show any true intention. 

Poyle froze and looked around the room. Everything was where it should be. His desk, his paintings, his wardrobe, nothing appeared to be disturbed. Ignatius had hopped up onto his desk and was now staring at him as if amused by his sudden odd behaviour. Then the lizard spoke.

‘You know what to do.’

Poyle turned when he realised where the voice was coming from, shocked into silence.

‘You know what to do. The Mines. What is in the Mines is key.’

The Lizard repeated the phrase over and over.

Poyle listened intently, keeping one eye on the mirror.

‘Why? Why the Mines?’ he asked.

The Mirror image spoke.

‘You do not need to know why. The Mines. That is all you need to know. In it you will find what you need. And once inside your problems will be over.’

‘What are you?’ Poyle asked, his voice shaking.

‘Later,’ and the image faded from the mirror until the mirror held only black. Poyle stared at where his image had been until his true mirror image returned. He stumbled backwards until he found his chair; sweat dripping and the beat of his own heart now resonating within his chest. It was all he could hear, all he could think of. It had only lasted a few seconds, but for the first time in his life, Poyle had truly felt fear. For the first time in a long time, he was not the one in control.

Elliott sat bolt upright in his bed, remembering who he actually was, so real his dream had been. It was so real in fact that Elliott knew it had been true, that he was not dreaming, he was seeing what was happening across town in a room on top of the County hall. Elliott too could feel his heart beating, and he knew that both he and Pyle had become connected by something larger than themselves. And he knew that whatever Poyle was now looking for would not be good for anyone else.

































5

The Mirror’s message



         Prosperity had been built on precious stones. The town sat on a cove, which acted as a perfect harbour for fishing vessels and transport ships which stopped in the town on their way up the mainland. This had brought people and the fishing vessels had ensured a constant supply of food, but it was the mountain range that sat just a few miles behind the town that gave the people of Prosperity their independence. The earliest peoples here had often used the caves at the base of the mountain range for shelter during harsh winters, and had strayed deep into the rocks during that time. It had not taken them long to find all manner of rocks and precious stone. Over time and with the earliest village on the edge of the cove others began to recognise the value of these stones and soon peoples began to trade these stones. Of course Prosperity was not called Prosperity back then, its old name had become lost in time. Ships began to arrive looking to trade in the stones found in the mountains and when no new stones could easily be found, the mining began.

         This was of course good for the town and a place that had been just a few hundred people soon became a town of well over two thousand. Many worked in the mines, but just as many now worked to provide services for all the visiting merchants that frequently visited the town. They demanded rooms to stay in and meals to eat, and usually at a higher standard than afforded the locals. Prosperity became known for its wealth and its high standards and the role of the city council became one of ensuring these standards were met. An unfortunate element began to make its presence known in the town, and the council determined that it was time to expand the forces of law and order that it already had in place. Thus the agents of the warrant were created, special constables with the power of judge and jury, able to issue immediate punishment at their own evaluation. It was a move that many of Prosperity’s resident’s were not at all happy with, coming as it did with an increase in taxes and a reduction in personal freedoms. The town was changing and many citizens, particularly those who could afford to, began to move away to other towns along the coast that were quieter and above all safer.

         It was around this time that Gracias Poyle emerged from the council as a bright young man who had much to say on many of the issues affecting what he called the common man. He spoke often in public and garnered a following quickly, so quickly in fact that when it cam time to elect a new senior councilman, there was only one candidate put forward. Poyle spoke on such issues as crime and the role of the warrant agents. He had promised to curb their powers once the city was safe, and ensure a fairer share of the profits from the mining operations.

         However once Poyle took office he discovered that many of the ideals he held were difficult to maintain. The Agents of the Warrant, far from winning the battle against the criminal underworld in Prosperity were in fact barely denting it, as he discovered a massive illegal operation existed right beneath his very nose, operating with the approval of the council. They were receiving a portion of the proceeds and so were quite happy with the situation. Poyle was given a choice. He could either turn a blind eye, or he would find himself a victim of Crime himself. Poyle cared more about his own skin than anything else and he soon decided that being on the receiving end of ten percent of the organized crime was actually quite a deal. Every now and again there would have to be a high profile sacrifice he pointed out to his new criminal cohorts, to keep the public happy.  A happy public he argued would be more likely to look the other way when something did happen provided they saw Poyle making every attempt to clean up the Town. Of course Poyle was right, and every year he had been able to argue for an expansion of the number of warrant Agents and an increase in their powers, based on the success they had had so far. New laws were introduced, but Prosperity quickly became a place where any opinion other than Poyle’s proved instantly unpopular. He had amassed power very quickly, and no-one had the strength to challenge him.

         Poyle now waited impatiently. His men had promised him results and he did not like to be disappointed. Iratus had not returned, probably fearful of what would happen if he came back with nothing. Poyle had sent him personally with a message and instructions to the chief of the Mining crew. Poyle paced up and down but didn’t for a moment consider leaving his study, his sanctuary. The City of Prosperity and his duties were no longer important. He had delegated many of his official responsibilities to the Chief Warrant Officer some years ago, and he had total faith in his ability to manage the town. He after all had far more important things on his mind.  He had not heard the voice again and that troubled him. He half expected never to hear it but something deep inside convinced him that it would return, even if the other half, the half that always felt somehow inadequate, thought that in fact he had never seen or heard anything at all. But then there was the boy. The boy had seen something in him, and there was something about the boy, everyone said so. He was different, and there had been only one person ever who had troubled him so much, and that was the boy’s Grandfather. He wondered if it was possible that the two of them were the same, not just relatives. He had beaten the Grandfather, would he need to do the same to the child he wondered? But he thought again, he hadn’t beaten the Grandfather had he, he had just contained him he realised. Would that prove to be a fatal mistake he wondered? 

He looked at the map of Prosperity on his wall. The Chief Engineer of the Mining Corporation had recently started to excavate in a new area on a far side of the mountain. Things had not been going well in the last year. It was as if the source of the stones had run dry. Poyle never fully understood where they came from. His Chief Geologist had tried to explain once, but Poyle had had to admit he was not that interested, something about temperatures of liquid rock and some such. There had not been a significant find in over six months and this was troubling to Poyle. The majority of the trade he did was with the mainland, and supplying them with stones was his main source of income. But his ‘partners’ were becoming not only impatient but suspicious. At their last meeting they had almost accused him of hiding something from them. He needed something that he could use against them. He needed leverage. Would this help him do that, free him from their clutches?  Poyle had pressured the chief Geologist into trying to discover new sources of stones, and the Engineer had calculated where the most likely site would be. So far the excavation had discovered nothing, but something had made Poyle’s chief geologist choose that location. The man had never been wrong before and he was one of the few employees that Poyle actually trusted to be. Was that the mine the voice had referred too? Poyle had sent Iratus with the specific instruction that he should return only if and when something unusual was discovered.

A red light flashed on Poyles desk. It was Iratus. He had returned and Poyle was impatient for news. Poyle pressed the button next to the red light.

‘Come,’ Poyle commanded.

The door opened at the far end of the office and Iratus walked in. He stooped low always maintaining eye contact with his master. A tall slender framed man covered in dirt followed him.

‘Sir, this man believes he may have found what you are looking for.’

Poyle looked at the Mine employee with a combination of disgust and excitement. It was as if he could not bear to look at a commoner, but was desperate to know what he might have found.

‘Please, don’t hold back.’

‘Mr Poyle, I discovered this in the new mine sir,’ the man held out a small wrapped package out. ‘It’s not like the normal stones sir in terms of its colours, but it has exactly the same density as the most valuable forms of diamond.’ The Miner placed the package on Poyle’s desk. It was about the size of a clenched fist and wrapped in what looked like the man’s shirt. ‘The thing is sir; I can’t bear to look at it. Most of the stones we find sparkle as soon as they are in the light. This does the opposite; it drains the light around it, that’s why I wrapped it.’   

Poyle stepped forward and took the package and walked back to his desk with it. He placed it down on his desk and started to unwrap it. Then he stopped and looked up at Iratus.

Iratus understood, and led the miner out of the office. He closed the door behind him. This must be what the Mirror had referred to.

Poyle continued to unwrap the package. He carefully opened the folds of fabric. Inside he discovered a short shard of crystal. The crystal was a deep black that reflected no light. Quite the opposite in fact, it seemed to suck the light from the air around them. Poyle could not take his eyes off it.

From the mirror behind him he heard a voice.

‘Yes. ’

He turned and looked at the mirror and saw his own his own face looking back at him, but again it was not his reflection.

‘This is what you wanted,’ Poyle asked, but he already knew the answer.

‘Yes,’ the mirror responded. Poyle sensed a hunger in the voice.

‘What is it?’

‘It is matter, it is pure.’

‘Is there more?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you want the rest too?’

‘Yes.’

‘You want me to get it for you?’

‘Yes.’

Poyle now understood why the mirror image had chosen to appear to him, even if he did not understand what it was. But he also knew that he was a businessman.

‘But what do I get?’ There was a pause before the mirror responded. Poyle knew this was his only chance to exert some control over the situation.

‘What do you want?’

Poyle knew exactly what he wanted. He had only ever been jealous of one thing, something he did not fully understand, but what he called a heart desired it.

‘The treasure the old man keeps in the Theatre. I know he’s hiding something in there. Help me get it.’

‘Very well, I will help you as that also serves my purpose. To get the treasure of the Theatre you must destroy what the old man treasures most.’

Poyle paused and thought.

‘You mean the boy?’

‘Yes.’

And Poyle knew what he had to do, and how he could do it. He sat down in his chair content. His eyes felt heavy but he had no desire to fight it. The image in the mirror began to laugh and the real Poyle fell into a deep sleep, the crystal in his hand. The mirror Poyle stared at the crystal, its eyes turning black and the crystal started to melt. The liquid stayed in on mass and slid across the table until it reached Poyle. It covered its fingers until it found a weak spot, a cut on his index finger. It pushed open the skin and seeped into his body until it was all inside. His skin shimmered black for a second and then it was gone.