Prologue

A sign to the place’s identity hangs from a lone nail at its corner, swinging lightly in the breeze with an ominous creak. However, the wording upon it has long since been crudely blacked out.

What is this anonymous catastrophe, this travesty of a building?

Perhaps it is a house, abandoned and left to disrepair Maybe it was a shop that, no longer bringing profit, was put up for sale… maybe that is what the sign says underneath the angry black paint. A grand mansion of some noble family from days of yore, a carefully preserved relic of the past? An old church, then, condemned, unopened and unfixed due to lack of funding? No. It is none of these things.

If one were to ask the locals for the identity of this forlorn creation, it is likely they would not remember. Its air of mystery and suspicion permeates the village it resides in. Once, it dominated. Now, it is nothing more than a nuisance, like an animal that needs to be put to sleep for its own safety. Like such animals, the people are too fond of it… yet they will not allow it to be refurbished, and will not acknowledge its existence.

There are pictures of it in books in the library, but no information. The old, hand-drawn images, scrawled tenuously in black ink, are only the vaguest reflection of what it might have looked like in its day.

Today, for all outward purposes, it is nothing but a blot on the perfect landscape of a developed street. Sharp angular buildings of steel, granite and glass now oversee the rest of the village, as it clamours for Town status. And this grey-stone ruin seems so small, squashed uncomfortably between an office block and a bank. Its three storeys pale in comparison to the thirty on either side of it.

It is alone, abandoned, and left to the torture of Mother Nature. It is nothing. But once… it was something. Something beautiful, a landmark that the village-folk were proud of. The windows shone in sunlight and moonshine, the steps glistened under the bright electric lights. Each gargoyle on each corner kept watch, unblinking, all-seeing. The roof-tiles sparkled, deep crimson, perfectly aligned. The doors with their wrought ironwork kept the weather at bay, but opened onto a grand, lavish interior. An interior that exists no more, locked forever from the world.

This building was a theatre, teeming with life - actors, audience, staff. Now it is nothing but the dead shell of itself, waiting to cave in and end the torment. It was small for a theatre, but large enough to accommodate the villagers and any newcomers or visitors, and the shows were the highlight of every month. Something happened here.

It is raining. It is always raining, so it seems. A young woman stands opposite the theatre, hands jammed into her coat pockets for warmth, a scarf hiding most of her features. She has no hat, and her hair is sodden. She knows this place. It has been too long since her last visit.

Slowly, she moves her booted feet towards the doors, up the four rough steps. She looks up into the pitch black of the canopy, an abyss with no end. It is familiar, and reminds her of a time long ago. She presses a bare hand to the doors. They are warm, and seem to heave as if breathing. Of course, it is only the hinges compensating to the change in pressure.

The space between the two has widened a little over time, and she peers through, hoping to glimpse what she only remembers in vague dreams. It is impossible, there is no light inside. From her shoulder-bag, she produces a small screwdriver, and proceeds to pick the padlock. After several futile attempts, there is a click that seems to echo off every surface. As the chain falls to the floor with a hideous clatter, she breathes in deeply, remembering each smell, then puts a hand on each door. She closes her eyes, and pushes.

The doors creak gratefully, the sound resonating through her like the voice of an old friend, familiar. They stop when their springs allow it, and bounce lightly before halting completely. The girl slowly opens her eyes and surveys what lies within.

It is just as dark. She scrutinises it more carefully, attempting to adjust her eyes to the wall of black. A random flash of lighting suddenly illuminates everything, and a cry of despair escapes her, mingled with bitter defeat. There is nothing beyond the doors, only a field of grey. It is nothing more than a stone box. She steps inside in case it is an illusion, but it remains the same. It is, truly, a shell.

She leans against the door - it groans against her weight - and slides down it to a sitting position. The floor is cold and unfamiliar to her, as she wraps her arms around her knees. She begins to weep, her body shaking, and then, when her grief is purged, she stares dead ahead. Loosening her grip on herself, she starts to remember… A time several years ago, when she was a girl, and the theatre was full of life… and she remembers, in vivid detail, every event that led to this moment…

1

It took her a while to enter the foyer. She had been sent to a small theatre group in a remote village, which had taken her a long time to get to, but now that she was here, she could tell that she was going to love it. The village itself was as idyllic as she had expected, and it was peaceful. Having grown up in two very different Big Cities, she welcomed the change. The village was renowned locally for its theatre, which she had found that morning, and now, Lucy could see why. The building she stood in front of was only a few storeys high, and took up very little space in its street. The name of it had once hung bright and proud above the double doors, but was long gone and thus the group had coined the name "The Anonymous Theatre Company", and this was now crudely painted in where the sign used to be. A lack of local funding meant that luxuries such as new signs could not be afforded. Before being sent to the theatre, Lucy had telephoned them for a last few details, and made the mistake of asking if they were amateurs. The answer was a very hasty "No.". They were professional to the bone, and if they could only find their niche, they would be famous. They were actually finding it impossible to find that niche, because their style and the people they attracted were both as obscure as each other. Lucy liked a challenge.

It was her third night in the village, having stayed in a local inn until accommodation was arranged in a small cottage - that was the one thing that the theatre could afford, since they knew several local people who willingly took in new members of the group until further living arrangements could be made. (Lucy's cottage was owned by an elderly lady, a regular patron of the theatre, named Mrs. Greenwood.) Now that Lucy was housed and knew her way around, she was ready to go to work, but she was finding it increasingly difficult not to remain outside and stare at the building. It was intricately carved on the outside, with bizarre and grotesque creatures watching, so it seemed, her every move from the corners. Lucy thought it very ironic that gargoyles were supposed to be ugly to serve their purpose, but whenever she saw one she considered it as adorable as a new born kitten. The gargoyles on the outside of the theatre were particularly hideous, with protuberant tongues, pointed teeth, slits for eyes and sharp claws; despite this Lucy had named them like pet animals before she knew it. The five semi-circular steps that led to the entrance were the width of the building, and had scenes from "Doctor Faustus" engraved along their edges. The windows on the third floor, where the dressing rooms seemed to be, each contained a different pane of stained glass, depicting comedy and tragedy masks, and characters from Shakespeare's plays - "Romeo and Juliet", "A Midsummer Night's Dream", "Othello" and even "Macbeth", which she considered very odd indeed. The roof was tiled in the most beautiful crimson tiles that Lucy had ever seen, and right in the centre of the front wall was a stone circle bearing the theatre's crest and Latin credo - both long since worn away. Just as all of this was beginning to sink in, Lucy felt the first drops of the night's rain and was forced to go inside. She knew it would be pouring within a few seconds. In fact, it seemed to rain at the same time every night, perhaps for this very purpose - to stop newcomers and patrons from gazing at the theatre all night.

The foyer was nowhere near as spectacular as the façade of the building. Yes, the carpets were a thick purple plush and the walls were hung with a complex patterned wallpaper, but there was something about the atmosphere that seemed somewhat laid-back compared to the grandeur of outside. Perhaps it was the barmaid who sat reading her book before the customers arrived, or maybe it was because the varnish was peeling from the banisters after thousands of hands had used them, or the tiny section of wallpaper that was peeling at the edges. The man selling tickets in the box office sat slumped over his counter, in fact, Lucy thought, he was asleep. As she turned around in a circle to take in her surroundings, she thought she spotted another person at the top of the stairs, but after blinking and taking a closer look, realised she had been mistaken - there was no-one there. She had no idea where she was supposed to be, so she approached the man in the box office warily and coughed to attract his attention. He opened one eye and looked at her with it irritably before sitting straight and adjusting his hat so it was even more tilted on his head than before. Then he yawned and stretched, obviously in no hurry, before folding his arms and addressing her.

"Yes?"

"Lucy Aldred. I'm the new actress." Her light London-American voice seemed horribly out of place as it echoed through the foyer.

"Oh?"

"I was just wondering where I was supposed to be." The man was obviously not going to be any help without some serious prompting. She rummaged in her bag for the letter they had sent to her with instructions. "This says that I need to meet everyone backstage. Could you give me directions, please?" The man sighed heavily, anxious to get back to his nap.

"Down that corridor to your left, then second door on the right. It's labelled 'Backstage' so you shouldn't have any problems finding it."

"Shouldn't we tell someone I'm here?" This amount of organisation was obviously a new concept to the ticket seller, so after staring at Lucy with a look that suggested he wasn't going to do any such thing, he called the barmaid. She was half-watching the scene and chewing a piece of pink gum, which she blew into a bubble in Lucy's direction.

"Hey, Jules! She's here!" Lucy was not impressed. It had taken her a painstaking seven hours to find the village two days ago and even longer to find her way around. She didn't have time for a sarcastic man in a box office booth wearing a crooked hat.

"Never mind." She decided to risk it and find the people she was going to be working with, secretly hoping that they were a lot more co-operative than this person. Just as she was about to go down the corridor, she was called back.

"Wait, er… Lucy." He stopped and grinned at her. Perhaps he was about to be co-operative? "They're mid performance, so you'd better be quiet." With this he went back to dozing, his head resting on his arms and snoring loudly. The barmaid, Jules, returned to her book, turned the page and read on, open mouthed, flashing her bubble gum at the world. Lucy rolled her eyes and awaited her task. She really did like a challenge.

2

As soon as she did she was met with bedlam. Costumes were strewn all over the floor, the actors were running around in circles attempting to remember their lines, and all of this was happening as the performance went as planned on the other side of a curtain that served as a partition. Everyone seemed to be in a frightful mess. Everyone, that is, except the person she assumed was the stage manager, who sat calmly in a corner smoking a cigar, overseeing the chaotic proceedings. Lucy was beginning to wonder if anyone actually did any work in this place. After standing in the doorway for a few seconds, someone ran up to her and starting shouting frantically:

"Shut that door - you're letting in all of the outside noise!" The person dragged her forwards and slammed the door. Outside noise? she thought. What about all of the INSIDE noise? She decided to make her presence known to them and wandered cautiously forward, attempting to introduce herself.

"I'm not sure who I need to talk to… I'm here to… I'm the… My name's…" She gave up after several futile efforts and stood in the middle of the floor, appealing to heaven. Not being a religious girl, it took a lot to make her do such a thing, but the bunch of maniacs surrounding her made her throw her head back in desperation. When she looked up, however, she was glad she had, because she saw an amazing sight of several floors of rafters. It seemed as though there were too many to fit underneath the roof of the building she had examined so carefully. Before she could take in the view, however, one of the less frantic actors tapped her on the shoulder.

"Can I help you? Are you lost?"

"No. I've been trying to tell everyone - I'm the new actress sent up from London."

"Oh, of course. We've heard all about you. Lucy, am I right?"

"You are. Lucy Aldred." She put out a hand to shake but he was too engrossed in his task to see.

"We were wondering when you'd get here." He disappeared momentarily to fetch a costume from a nearby pile. "I'm Patch. I'll show you the ropes." Well, at least he seemed friendly enough.

"That's a curious name, Patch. I'm assuming it's a nickname." He nodded and showed her his hair, which was dyed several shades of brown. Lucy tried to break the ice. "Do you have a real name?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out. Now, put this on and we'll get you started." He deposited the costume in her arms and led her to a small cubicle in the corner. "I hope it fits," he added as she entered the small box-like room. "We had it specially made for you." Lucy didn't question exactly how they knew what size to make it, and opted to simply follow instructions for the time being. She drew the curtain and started to put on the costume, as Patch chatted to her: "So, if you've come up from London, what's with the accent?" He was certainly observant - her American accent had nearly disappeared completely.

"That's for me to know and you to find out, right?" she joked. "No, seriously, I do hail from Manhattan but I've been trained in England. I didn't think my accent was that strong."

"It's not. It's just… bubbling on the surface." She'd finally struggled into her outfit, and examined herself in the mirror. It did, in actual fact, fit perfectly and she appeared to be dressed as a wizard, in a purple robe covered in embroidered gold stars, and with a tall, if bent, hat to match. Since the hat would not straighten out she assumed it was supposed to be skewiff, and she was instinctively looking for the staff to go with it when Patch cleared his throat impatiently on the other side of the partition. She drew back the curtain and presented herself.

"Tada!"

"Brilliant! Give us a twirl!" She spun around slowly. He repeated, "Brilliant! Right, here's what you've got to do." She followed him as he went into an impromptu acting spurt, leaping around the creaky wooden floor to show her what to do. It appeared that he was one of those people whose brain worked faster than his mouth, and his speech was disjointed and somewhat confusing. "Your first role with us, Lucy, is in one of our infamous sketches. We like to think of it as comedy, but the critics seem to disagree. As long as it pulls in the punters, I'm not going to complain, but anyway, you play a wizard." Never, she thought, but refrained from saying it. "Your name is Nilrem, and you're the Grand Sorcerer to King Ruhtra of Tolemac. Sound familiar?" She nodded, smiling. She was very quick off the mark when it came to words. "Now, in this scene, you're meeting him for the first time - it's a new sketch we've just come up with - you came here right on cue, if you'll pardon the pun. So… where was I?"

"I'm Nilrem and I'm the Grand Sorcerer."

"Oh yes. So, Ruhtra puts out a regal hand to greet his new wizard, and you, as Nilrem, go to shake it. After producing your hand from the folds of your magic robes, you take the King's noble palm and the two of you shake hands. The greetings dispensed with, the King goes to point out the boundaries of his realm from a window, but when he does, he finds upon his royal digits a rubber duck, stuck there mysteriously." Patch's eyes sparkled and he was lost in his own world for a few seconds, caught in the moment. Suddenly he looked at her. "What do you think?" Lucy wasn't sure if she was supposed to laugh or not. Echoing Patch she tried:

"Brilliant?"

"Glad you think so. Are you ready?"

"Maybe with a little practice…"

"We don't have time for that! You're expected after the interval!" He ignored the confused look on her face and instead realised something else. "Where's the duck?" He looked around for it and found it lurking inconspicuously under a pile of masks. "Here it is. How it works is this: you see there's a little hook just here that goes over your hand. At first you need to palm it so it’s hidden from the audience, like this." He demonstrated, so she couldn't see it. "Then, when you shake hands," (he shook her hand) "the hook kind of flips over so that it sits on the King's hand." To her surprise, the duck was indeed now hooked over her hand. "The King will also hide it until he goes to the window. It's as simple as that. Now you try it." She did her best but the duck plainly refused to conceal itself in her hand. "I guess it'll have to do for now. You know, first night glitches and all that. Can't be helped." He turned away again to shout, rather loudly for someone called Tommy, who was apparently playing Ruhtra. Lucy had decided that this had gone far enough, and wondered when the initiation joke would end. Patch was being impossibly loud considering there was a performance going on, and she was beginning to think the stage manager was incredibly irresponsible to let his company get in such a state. Tommy was found, skulking behind a small set piece, apparently suffering from stage fight. Patch explained that he always got stage fright when they were trying a new act. Lucy was sure that she was supposed to be joining a professional group, but after all that she'd seen she wasn't so certain.

The curtains at the rear of the stage suddenly separated and everyone backstage froze in their places as the previous actor bowed out backwards. He was so engrossed with his moment that he nearly walked into Lucy. He heard her cry and turned around to regard her, looking down his nose and sniffing before moving on. He was obviously the Big Star around these parts. The curtains had folded back to their normal position and the crowds went to the bar for their interval drinks. Before she knew what was going on, Lucy was being shuffled and shoved into position, having makeup thrown on her and debriefed once more by Patch. At this point she realised that he was deadly serious. This was no joke. She was going to have to perform in ten minutes. Tommy was breathing deeply to calm his nerves, but Lucy was too bewildered to be anxious. The ten minutes seemed to fly past as Tommy put on his crown and went to the right hand wing. The act would apparently start with Lucy standing in the centre of the stage before Ruhtra arrived to meet her. She was hastily made to repeat lines by Patch in an attempt to learn her part, but it seemed to work and she could always improvise, he decided. Lucy was beginning to get stressed. My first acting job and I get his place? I'm only sixteen - I don't need this kind of pressure in my first show! It was more professional than this in my school play!

She sensed the lights in the auditorium dim and a hush fall over the audience. Patch grinned at her and gave her a thumbs-up. Tommy crossed his fingers, then himself, and took a few more healthy breaths for good measure. Lucy stared ahead as the curtains began to separate.

3

Backstage all was not so calm. When the stage, and the new actress, had exploded in front of them with no help from the stagehands, Tommy practically jumped out of his skin and was now trembling in a corner. His condition was not helped by the stage manager's loud cry of "Damnit! Not again!" as he leapt from his seat. Patch attempted to help Tommy regain his composure, what little he had, and attempted to organise the others.

"Where’s the understudy? She's supposed to be here all the time! Somebody find her!" Bedlam once again ensued, and the stage manager, instead of trying to control his people, simply sat down in his chair again and lit another cigar. He looked pensive as he watched Patch take control. I'm glad I took him on board, he thought. Only eighteen and he's already a natural. He'll go far, that one.

Lucy's understudy was found and thrown into her costume, which fitted correctly in all of the wrong places, before being propelled unceremoniously through the curtains to the waiting crowd. Tommy was dragged back to his original position, looking quite ill, and the new sketch began once more.

From somewhere, Lucy was able to hear all of the chaos that occurred backstage as well as the nervous mutterings of the audience. She was dazed from her whole ordeal, which right from the start had seemed somewhat strange. She ran through it in her mind as she tried to work out where she was and how she had got there. She remembered the front of the building, how small it looked, the huge yet sparse foyer, the manic people she had met behind the curtains, Patch and Tommy, and she remembered a costume, makeup, people talking at her and then something she had never before experienced - stage fright. After that - nothing. As she took in her surroundings she looked down at herself - she was still in her wizard's garb - and then straight ahead. She was lying on her back staring at the ceiling, at the rafters she had seen earlier that seemed too high to be inside the theatre. They seemed closer somehow, imperceptibly so, but closer nonetheless. She still couldn't see the top of the ceiling, however. Concentrating, she tried to place the noises she could hear… they seemed to be below her, but she knew that was impossible. There was nothing above the stage but the technical gear and the endless wooden beams, she had seen it with her own eyes. She decided that the only way to determine where she was would be to get up, so she put her arms by her sides and pushed. They met air and she panicked, flailing her limbs wildly and trying to look over her shoulder. She caught a glimpse of the floor far below and was just about to scream when a hand caught her mouth. From behind her a voice said:

"Shush. If you panic you'll fall." Realising this to be wise advice, she stopped waving her arms in the hope of something to grab on to, and lay still. There was just enough room by her sides for her hands to rest easily - she must have put them further out than she thought, and she was evidently lying on one of the rafters. Before she could take this information in, the voice continued. "If you promise not to move I'll help you. All right?" She gave a careful 'thumbs-up' and the hand was removed from her mouth. Two hands appeared under her shoulders. "Now listen carefully because if you don't you'll get hurt. I want you to bend your knees so that your feet are touching the floor." She was about to question the use of the word 'floor' but opted instead to do as the person told her. Her pedantic attitude was going to get her nowhere fast. "Good. Now I'm going to help you up, but I need you to leave your hands where they are and do what you were going to do before - push up. Right?" Lucy nodded her head and did as she was told. Before she knew it she was standing up. "There. Now walk forward - I've got you - and whatever you do, don't look down again." Very slowly she edged her way ahead, not knowing where she was going but hoping it was somewhere with a larger surface. Finally Lucy and her strange companion were in a corner, where there was room for her to turn around, which she did to face the person who had helped her. Her sudden action made him hide in the shadows, which confused her even more. She quickly scanned the area around her, noticing that the rafters were approximately two feet across, but found nothing but darkness.

"Hello?" There was movement. "Who are you?" Her voice echoed in the blackness.

"I'm not allowed to say."

"Oh. Well, I'm Lucy. Lucy Aldred."

"I know." This wasn't going too well, so she tried a different tactic.

"Where am I?"

"You already know. You're in the rafters."

"How did I get here?"

"It's not important." Lucy was getting quite fed up of the uncooperative exchange, so she spoke her mind outright. She was agitated and it showed in her voice - her native accent came through loud and strong, as it always did when she was annoyed.

"Listen, whoever you are. Today has been very strange and it's not getting any better. First of all I meet a bunch of maniacs who call themselves professionals, then I'm being forced on-stage to perform with no practice, then I'm lying on a rafter somewhere about fifty feet off the ground, and then I meet some boy who can't tell me who he is. All I want to know is what's going on." There was a deathly silence. "Please, just tell me when things start to get normal."

"This is normal. You just need to get used to it." The person moved forward slightly. Lucy could see a pair of feet, which were wearing light, fabric shoes in a dark beige. "I know it seems odd at first, but everyone who joins here has to go through it. It's the initiation process."

"Well it's nice to be warned." Despite her sarcasm she was beginning to understand. "So what happens now."

"Come with me." She found herself being pulled by the hand along the beams, at some speed, and she tried not to trip over herself as she followed. She still could not see the person dragging her, but by the voice and the general size she assumed it was a boy, of about sixteen and very lightly built. After a while, having been led across several of the beams, Lucy found herself in a large, open room, from where she could still hear the action below. It took her several seconds to realise that in fact she was on what appeared to be another stage, but she decided against even thinking about that because things were strange enough as it was. Quickly, her makeshift leader vanished once again into the omnipresent shadows that seemed to dominate the building. She approached the edge of the floor, made from polished pine boards and securely held up with a complex, locked pulley system, following the sound of the performance. She looked over the edge and had a perfect view of the audience and the stage she had been standing on not five minutes ago, where her understudy was performing. She was amazed by the view - why hadn't she seen this platform from below? Something about the silence behind her made her keep watching, so that she finally knew what she was supposed to have done earlier. When the understudy had finished, to an amazing round of applause and appreciative laughter that made Lucy rather jealous, she remembered that she was utterly bemused by the whole experience. It was time for answers, and so she turned around and made a visual search for the curious person who had saved her life. She examined every corner, but without moving herself, and eventually conceded defeat and sat cross-legged on the floor.

"Where are you?" No answer. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm sorry I shouted and I didn't mean to scare you." From somewhere in front of her the boy's voice seeped out.

"You didn't."

"Good. Well, then, why are you hiding?"

"It's in my nature, it's what I do. Nobody's allowed to see me."

"Not even me?"

"No."

"Was that you I saw on the staircase earlier."

"No." She didn’t believe him for a second, but decided against saying so.

"Well, can you tell me a little about yourself because I'd like to know who you are and how you - we - got up here." There was a pause while he apparently considered her request. After a sigh and a cough to clear his throat, he began.

4

"I can't really tell you who I am, not yet. I'm the Big Secret around here and you're not supposed to know about me. In fact, you're not even supposed to know there's a secret, but everyone works it out eventually. I think this place has an aura, something strange about it, that's why they think there's something going on. The Stage Manager, that's the man who smokes the cigars, he tells them that they're wrong or imagining things. Have you heard him speak yet?" Lucy shook her head, but doubted whether he could see her so confirmed it with a 'No'. "Well, that's good, because when you do, you should never listen to him. All he ever tells is lies.

"This place is stranger than you ever imagined. From the outside, as I'm sure you noticed, it's small and fairly insignificant, but inside it's huge. It goes on forever in every direction, North, South, East, West, above and below. There are hundreds of floors, but they're so small that nobody can walk on them. The base of the theatre is reinforced because there's nothing but a chasm underneath, but the sides of it are dotted with beams, the same as over your head." Lucy looked up instinctively, and despite being higher up, still could not see the ceiling. "Everybody stays safely on the two main floors. I doubt that they've told you anything, they never do. All of the newcomers are subjected to this ritual of unrehearsed first performances and no map or directions of the theatre. The poor people are left to work it out for themselves, and like I said, this place is huge. It's up to me to tell you about the theatre. Firstly, the ground floor contains the stage, foyer and public bar, as you've seen. That's all you can get to. Only the chef is allowed into the kitchens, which is just as well since he's the only one who knows how to get to them, apart from me. The next floor has all of the dressing rooms, and there's more than you think. I'll take you to yours later, and if you ever get lost, just give a short whistle and I'll be right there."

There was a pause while he let this information sink in. Lucy was amazed already. "That's quite a story, but I get the impression that that's not all there is to it. There's something you're not telling me. I promise, if it's such a big secret, that I won't tell a soul." As an after thought she added with a gesture: "Cross my heart." He didn't appear to understand; she was learning how to read the silence, and after her comment she sensed some confusion. The silence conceded defeat, and she made herself more comfortable on the hard boards while she listened.

"All right, you asked to hear about me and hear about me you will, but not here." Lucy's voice filled with dread as she contemplated this.

"I'm not going to scramble all over those beams again."

"You won't have to." The voice was suddenly behind her, and before she knew what was happening, she had been scooped up and was flying upwards incredibly fast. She considered screaming in panic, but something made her stop. She felt as though she trusted this odd character, and instead of noisily expelling her lungs, she assumed he was attached to a wire, and took the opportunity to look at him closely. He was, as she suspected, about sixteen, with scruffy brown hair and olive green eyes. He was very strong for his size and she would never have expected him to be able to lift her, because, she had to admit, she wasn't exactly the lightest person in the world. His face was determined, as though he was concentrating intently on a difficult task, and as she kept looking, she noticed that whatever was holding him up was of a very good design - she couldn't even see it. Just as she was about to comment on this, they landed on a platform built into the corner of what seemed to be a tower. The noises of the performance were now a distant murmur, but other than that it was completely silent. She still couldn’t see the ceiling and was beginning to understand that the idea of 'hundreds of floors' had not been an exaggeration. She positioned herself on the edge of the triangular platform, with her legs hanging over the side, feet pointing towards the dark abyss below her. If she fell, she would certainly die on impact, but she somehow knew that she was going to do no such thing.

Since there was nowhere for her companion to hide, he sat next to her and didn't say a word. She was getting used to having to initiate the conversation, so after once more tenaciously peering over the edge, she cleared her throat and managed: "Wow."

"Impressed?"

"No, more like mildly amazed. How did you do that? I couldn't even see the wire." He stifled a laugh.

"I'll tell you later. First of all I'll finish the story." He paused as though he was contemplating a big decision, then started, in the same whispered tone as before. "I have lived here all of my life. I know this place better than anyone. I don't know how I got here, or why, or how long I'm supposed to be here, all I remember is being very young, and being here. Possibly I was born here, but I've never really found out. Don't get me wrong, I've seen daylight; I've seen the sun, felt the rain, heard the wind as it bellows outside, because right at the top there's windows that open. It seems as though they're only for my benefit since nobody else can reach them. I'm confined in this theatre and yet I never want to leave. It's my home.

"Most of the group down there are the original actors, the man who walked into you, for example, he's been here for years. There's new people, like Patch and Tommy, and the barmaid and ticket seller are only here voluntarily." Lucy nodded - that would explain it. "All of the new actors have to go through the same process as you did and for years I've been watching it, watching them suffer as their confidence is lowered and as they often collapse in frustration. It's a terrible sight. It's inhumane, and yet the group doesn't seem to notice. Finally I decided that the only way I was going to stop this would be to rescue them, and you are the first one. I've been planning this for months, creating little explosions in the performances, dropping trapdoors at inopportune times, that sort of thing, so they'd get used to me being… tricksy. I'm glad it worked. I'm going to keep doing it."

Lucy was beginning to feel like a guinea pig for a scientific experiment. It was no wonder Tommy was so nervous if he'd had to go through the same torture as she nearly did. Patch was obviously too full of life to have even noticed, let alone let it affect him, but Lucy… what would it have done to her? She couldn't even contemplate it. However, she could sense something not right. "There's still something you're missing out."

"You're very perceptive. There is. It's so amazing you'd never believe me."

"Try me."

"You know just now, when we came up here? There was no wire." Lucy blinked at him.

"Excuse me?"

"There was no wire. Nothing helped me. You can check if you like." She examined his back. There was certainly no harness showing, and she would have been able to see it through his shirt. No harness would fit him - he was too thin. She prodded his backbone and he laughed, but she couldn't tell if he was simply laughing because it tickled, or if he was laughing at her. It annoyed her slightly, but she didn’t let on.

"All right, I'll accept that. I've seen enough other weird things around here to believe you, but how exactly did you get up here?" He rose to his feet, put his hands on his hips and stared proudly at the opposite wall, supposing he looked like Robin Hood. Then, speaking heroically, he said:

"I'm a Leaper." There was a deathly silence.

"A what?" Instead of answering her, he bent his knees and started to jump. He was evidently trying to prove something. Whatever Lucy was expecting, though, it wasn't what happened next. The boy effortlessly jumped approximately four feet in the air and landed again silently. He then resumed his original pose. Lucy was mildly amazed for a few seconds, but then had an idea.

"Show me the soles of your shoes."

"Why?" Impatiently, she grabbed his ankle and pulled him over. He fell with a dull thud next to her and complained. She ignored him and examined the base of his feet.

"You must be wearing springs or something. Nobody can jump that high. It's impossible!" Before he answered her, he had got to his feet and grabbed her again. They were travelling through the air at a greater speed than before, straight upwards into the apparent oblivion of rafters. This time she screamed, but still managed to hear him say:

"Nothing's impossible in this place. I thought you’d realised that by now."

5

It was all very mysterious. A boy who hid in the shadows, a theatre company who required their new actors to earn a position by almost circus training tactics, and not to mention how the theatre seemed to be so small on the outside when it was so huge on the inside. Lucy thought about all of these things in an attempt to justify them, but did not succeed. It was just too… strange. There was no other word to describe it, and the boy especially had been the strangest thing of all.

What had she found out about him? Barely anything, except that he was sixteen (or so she assumed - she was unable to get a straight answer from him regarding his age) and that he did actually live in the rafters of the theatre. That much she could accept easily, and she considered herself fairly open-minded, but the rest of it - Leapers, secrets, everything she had been told - she found almost impossible, despite seeing it with her own eyes not hours before. And as for the boy's name… He would not tell her, no matter how much she swore herself to secrecy. He had been eager enough to find out all about her, naturally, but refused to disclose any information about himself. He had said:

"When you've got a friend to confide it to, I'll tell you my name, and only then." She had asked if Patch counted, he was friendly enough with her, then wished she hadn't mentioned it. "Not Patch, you can't trust him. He's on the other side already, poor boy. Don't cross him, whatever you do. No, they recruit people every few months, soon you'll find a friend, and I'll be helping them in exactly the same way. And now I've got you to help me it'll be even easier." So that left a few more unanswered questions. 'The other side'? What was that? It was beginning to sound like warfare.

While she was running through all of these things in her mind, she failed to notice the downpour she was walking through, and was bemused to get home and find herself soaking wet. Mrs Greenwood was waiting for her. Lucy groaned and awaited the inevitable.

“Miss Aldred… I expect you to be back before the small hours. What were you up to all this time?”

“I… was…” what? She couldn’t exactly say ‘sitting in the rafters with a weird Leaping boy’, could she. “…Um…”

“Well obviously you can’t remember, no doubt due to an unnecessary amount of alcohol consumption.”

“I’m NOT drunk! In fact I’m very sober.”

“Yes, well.” That seemed to be the woman’s answer to most things. “Bed. Now. You’re dripping on the carpet.”

“I know.” Lucy turned to go upstairs, but so as not to leave the conversation on a negative note, she looked back apologetically at the older woman. “Sorry for being so late, Mrs. Greenwood. I should have called to say I was going to be late.” Mrs. Greenwood nodded at her.

“Goodnight Miss Aldred.”

“Goodnight.” The two of them parted company and went to their separate rooms. Lucy got ready for bed quickly and then lay there in the dark for several minutes, still running over the bizarre events of her evening. However, tiredness quickly took over and she was soon fast asleep…

Lucy woke up in a cold sweat. It was just a dream, a nightmare. The same one she always had when she was stressed. Except this time it seemed a little too close to home following the day’s escapades in the theatre. Some of the details were different, such as the wizard costume - before she had always been in period dress in her dream. And this time she knew the theatre as being that of the Anonymous Theatre Company, it was vivid. She put all thoughts of her day and her nightmare from her head and tried to drift off to sleep again. Luckily she managed it.

The next morning, Lucy awoke from a peaceful sleep, only vaguely aware that the end of her recurring nightmare had changed… or rather that it had ended at all. She felt calmer and practically drifted down the stairs. It was only after breakfast that it dawned on her - why was this strange person invading her subconscious. It was more than a coincidence that this particular part of the dream had occurred now and never before. She put it down to pre-performance stress, the shock of the new and the previous day’s bizarreness (which, she noted, she was beginning to pass off as a normal day), not some mind-washing conspiracy.

When Mrs. Greenwood brought in the post, there was a large brown envelope with Lucy’s name on it, but no address and not in a handwriting she recognised. She opened the envelope and found enclosed a short note and the entire script for the night’s show, including the section from her ‘initiation’. She read the note.

“Lucy,

you’ve got to learn this now, and bring the whole thing back with you in secret. Leave it under the bottom step of the staircase in the foyer - you’ll find a slot at the bottom - because you should have time just before the show starts... Make sure nobody sees you. This is very important. You can’t delay in returning it because he will notice if it’s missing. Good luck.”

That was it, no name. She knew, however, that it was from her newly found friend. Then she examined the script - sure enough, she could learn this… if she did nothing else for the entire day. With a sigh she realised that there was nothing for it and that she’d have to lock herself in her room until six o’clock… and it was ten thirty now. She sighed again, inducing a comment from Mrs. Greenwood about ‘love letters’, which she barely heard, but shook her head anyway hoping it was the right response.

After downing her now-cold coffee, Lucy marched back up to her bedroom, locked the door, sat on the bed and started reciting her lines...

6

“I can’t believe how well that went!” she said. “I’ve never heard so many whistles from a crowd!”

“Don’t get your hopes up, dear, they’re always like that.” said Tommy, who, it transpired, was an extremely good actor once he got over his stage fright. Seeing her face drop at this, he added: “But I have to admit, they did seem louder than usual.” He smiled at her and disappeared up the stairs to his dressing room. Lucy beamed with pride and continued laughing.

“I’m very impressed that you managed to do it all perfectly. You’ve got fantastic comic timing.” said Patch. Lucy, not entirely aware of what she was saying, decided to get the truth out of him.

“So… my initiation is over?”

“Initiation?”

“Yes. That’s what this was, right?”

He looked at her, almost scared, and at the same time deeply suspicious. “How did you-?”

“I just figured it out. I’ve been through plenty of initiation procedures in my time, but this was the best yet.” she grinned almost evilly, quite obviously hiding something and making it clear that she wasn’t going to tell anyone what it was. Patch only stared at her, then shrugged. She shrugged back and skipped up the stairs two at a time to her dressing room.