Sebastian of Mars Read Online Free Page A

strange look pass over Thomas’
features, which was quickly banished. He almost spoke but then
gathered himself and nodded. “Very well, Sebastian. I will have it
removed. I think it a wise decision.”
    I gave him a smile. “I bet old Parum didn’t
enjoy seeing it, though, did he?”
    Thomas threw back his
head and laughed.
    T hat night I drew
from its hiding spot behind my dresser, where even prying Amy
hadn’t been able to find it, my most prized possession. Newton had
given it to me the year before, when, as he said, I was finally old
enough to appreciate it. He could have given it to me when I was a
little kit and I would have appreciated and cherished it, because
it had belonged to my mother.
    It was a strange keepsake, a book of the Old
Ones, which made it, of course, immensely valuable. But no price
could be put on this artifact, the only object in existence with a
connection not only to my mother but also my grandmother, who had
been a sad woman, from what I was told.
    It was a picture book, of strange-looking Old
One musicians. Many pages were missing, and some were brittle, and
I always took great care when I handled it lest it dissolve to dust
in my hands.
    Three pages in particular were special.
    The first was a portrait of a tall, thin Old
One with a completely naked face and a high mane of hair on the top
of his head (a feline book had claimed that, in certain Old One
ages, this was not real hair at all but something called a wig!)
standing next to a musical instrument. One of his strange, long
fingered paws rested on its keyboard. The name under the picture
was FRANZ JOSEPH HAYDN.
    My mother, I had been told, was named after
this Old One by my grandmother, just as my mother named my sister
and me after two other Old One Musicians.
    My own picture was partially torn away, but
showed most of a portrait of a rather fat, smiling Old One, also
wearing what looked to be a wig. His name, also partially missing,
was SEBASTIAN BACH. And Amy’s picture was of a proud looking woman
named AMY BEACH.
    I carefully studied each picture, and the
relatively hairless creatures the Old One’s had been. So like and
yet so unlike us. There was still so much mystery surrounding their
origin, and also their demise. How did they relate to us? Where had
they gone, millennia ago? One of Newton’s Science Guild colleagues,
who had been studying the Old Ones all his life, estimated that
they had died out nearly two million years ago. Why?
    It was one of the questions that had always
intrigued and inspired me.
    This was the kind of King I wanted to be: one
who gave his people answers instead of questions, and I resolved
that my reign would, hopefully, begin a golden age of knowledge on
Mars.
    I fell asleep with the book on my lap, and
was only roused, hours later, by the sound of a door quietly
opening.
    I knew instantly by the stealthy nature of
the sound that it was not Thomas or one of my guards come to check
on me. The lamp next to my bed had been extinguished. Through the
opening crack in the door I saw the guard, his head lolling, asleep
or worse in his chair outside.
    And then the light in the hallway went out,
and I could see nothing.
    The door opened wider, squeaking slightly on
its hinges. Holding my breath, I angled myself out of the bed,
leaving the book behind.
    The door closed behind a figure now inside
the room.
    I could feel the presence of the other. There
was a heat, a slightly sweet odor, a slight breathing that
announced the intruder.
    Was this how my reign would end, before it
had even begun, at the hands of an assassin?
    The other stood silent, and now I could make
out a slight shape in the darkness as my eyes became used to the
dark.
    The shape moved to the bed, to the lamp next
to it, and stood still. It was hovering over the bed, its hand
moving over the wall to the switch.
    I stepped back, my hands out to shield me, as
the lamplight turned night into sudden day.
    “ Charlotte! ” I cried.
    She froze,