Horten's Incredible Illusions (8 page)
“I bet I can find it first,” said Fit Stuart, bouncing on his toes. “Get ready. Get set.
Go!
”
“What about a ‘loudest burp’ competition instead?” said Jokey Stuart, who then burped incredibly loudly and raised his arms in triumph. “I’ve won!”
Stuart felt a tap on his arm. It was Silent Stuart, and he was pointing at the other end of the arch. Stuart followed him across. Silent Stuart placed a finger on one mirror, and Stuart peered at the image. And there it was—the little indented scar on the chin.
“Thanks,” said Stuart hoarsely.
“You’re welcome,” said Silent Stuart.
“So you
can
speak?”
“Only when I have to.”
“So what are you doing the rest of the time?”
“Thinking.”
“Oh. Perhaps
I
ought to do a bit more of that.”
Silent Stuart grinned, and together they went back to the easel. Stuart fitted the mirror into the frame, and suddenly the vast dark space full of arguing, moaning, yawning, sprinting, and burping Stuarts was empty. Only Stuart himself was left, and the mirror in the frame was now just a mirror. Stuart frowned, smiled, and yawned, just to make sure that his reflection did the same, and then he went over to the arch again.
It too had changed. Instead of rows of Stuarts, each mirror now showed the image of an identical letter.
A wide silver
W
.
The light began to fade slowly, as if someone was turning a dimmer switch. The silver letters dwindled and disappeared. For a second there was complete darkness, and then the light flashed on again, and Stuart was back in the museum, blinking with the shock of it.
“At
last
!” said April, who was sitting on the high bronze throne of the Reappearing Rose Bower, surrounded by the curling stems of a hundred metal flowers. “You’ve been ages and ages. And I’ve been dying to tell you what I’ve found.”
“What?” asked Stuart, still a bit dazed. When he’d left, the room had been sunlit, but now the sky through the window was heavy with dark clouds, and the odd drop of rain streaked the glass. “Just a moment,” he added, going over to the Arch of Mirrors and retrieving the Magic Star from its socket. Before the adventure, it had had five spokes; now only four remained.
April waited for him to return. She looked rather grand, sitting high on the throne, her legs crossed.
“The reason I took ages was because I kept getting the wrong Stuarts,” said Stuart. “How did you find the right April so quickly?”
She shrugged. “Easy. Like I said, I just looked for the one that was me. The one with my expression.”
“What expression’s that?”
“Sort of decisive and determined. It’s what makes me stand out from my sisters.”
“And what expressions have they got?”
“June’s very, very serious, and May’s just crazy and hysterical.”
“Is she?”
“You know, once you start observing instead of just
guessing
you’ll find it quite easy to tell us apart,” said April, sounding like a particularly bossy teacher. “Anyway, I want to explain about what I found. I was sitting here eating my lunch, and I accidentally dropped a grape down the side of the seat. When I tried to reach down for it, I felt a funny little lever.”
“What happens when you pull it?” asked Stuart, suddenly curious.
“I didn’t try,” said April, looking a bit offended. “
Obviously
I was waiting for you.”
“Well, try it now.”
“Okay.”
April slipped her hand down next to the seat and pulled something.
Clickety-clack.
She let out a squeak of surprise as the twining rose stems snapped together into a tight thicket, surrounding the whole throne like a silver basket.
For a moment Stuart couldn’t figure out whether he was witnessing machinery or magic. “Are you still in there?” he asked, trying to peer between the branches. He couldn’t see a thing.
“Yes, I’m here.” April sounded slightly nervous. “A sort of silver band has snapped across my middle. A bit like a seat belt.”
“Pull the lever again,” suggested Stuart.
“Okay. Here goes.”
Clackety-click.
This time she gave a loud scream.
“April?” called Stuart worriedly.
“
Get me out!
” she yelled. Some good hard kicks came from somewhere inside the illusion.
“Where are you?”
“Hanging
upside-down
. The whole throne flipped over.”
“So that’s why there’s a seat belt,” said Stuart thoughtfully.
“But how do I get out?”
“Pull the lever?”
“Okay.”
Clickety-clack.
Instantly the twining rose stems relaxed into their starting position, and Stuart could see the throne again.
It was empty, though, and it looked somehow … different. There was a pattern on the seat that hadn’t been there before.
He ran a hand over it and felt a trio of grooves beneath his fingers: a wheel with just three spokes.
“It’s here!” he exclaimed. “The place where the magic star goes. There must be
two
thrones, one on top and one underneath, and they revolve.”
“Can I
remind
you,” shouted April from somewhere directly beneath him, “that I am still hanging
upside-down
in
total darkness
.”
“Sorry. Try the lever again.”
Clackety-click.
With a rattle and a screech, the rose stems snapped shut once more, blocking the view of the throne.
“Still
upside-down
,” shouted April, by now sounding rather annoyed.
“Pull it again.”
Clickety-clack.
There was another scream from behind the basket of stems.
“Right way up now,” she called through gritted teeth. “One more pull.”
Clackety-click.
The bower screeched open to reveal April, looking red-faced, her hair sticking up in dusty clumps. She got out quickly.
“That was
not
nice,” she muttered, brushing herself down.
“But we’ve found out how the trick works and where the star goes,” said Stuart encouragingly, trying to cheer her up.
She folded her arms and looked back at the throne. “Hmm. There’s just one problem, though. Isn’t there?”
“What?”
“Who’s going to use it?”
“What do you mean?”
“You can only put the star in the right place when the lever’s been pulled and the seat’s flipped over. So only one of us will be able to go on the adventure. The other one will spend the entire time hanging upside-down in a fifty-year-old metal box full of dust and
insects
.” Delicately, she picked an earwig off her T-shirt and flicked it away.
“Right,” said Stuart, nodding. “I see what you mean. In any case, it’s not the next adventure. It’s the one after next.”
As he spoke, there was a brilliant flash outside, followed by the rumble of thunder. As lightning flooded the room, they both saw that three illusions now failed to sparkle in the sudden brightness: the Well of Wishes, the Pharaoh’s Pyramid, and the Arch of Mirrors.
“I forgot to say—did you see a letter
W
,” asked April, “reflected in the mirrors right at the very end?”
Stuart nodded. “So we’ve found an
S
and a
W
so far.”
“I wonder …” began April thoughtfully.
“What?”
“I wonder what they’re leading us to? We still don’t know, do we? When you were following the trail of coins, you knew you were searching for your great-uncle’s workshop. But one by one, we’re squeezing the magic out of these tricks. What’s going to be left at the end?”
Before Stuart could think of a reply, his stomach gave a loud growl and he realized how hungry he was. He’d left his lunchbox in the roomful of Stuarts, and it seemed hours since breakfast. He checked his watch and was startled to see that it was a quarter past five.
“Aren’t we supposed to be going somewhere?” he asked, frowning.
April smacked a hand to her mouth. “Clifford’s performance! I totally forgot!”
They ran.
The entrance to St. Cuthbert’s church hall was down a dingy alleyway between a pub and a butcher’s shop. A board was propped against the wall, with the words:
MAGIC SHOW THIS WAY
, 6
P.M.
! handwritten on it, the letters blurred by the brief rain shower. A tiny line was waiting outside the door. It consisted of a teenage girl, a very small boy, and three older ladies.
April got out her notebook and scribbled something down.
“What are you doing?” asked Stuart.
“I’m supposed to be writing a review for the
Beech Road Guardian
,” she said. “I’m just setting the scene.” She showed him what she’d written:
A small but enthusiastic crowd gathered eagerly outside the hall.
“They don’t look very enthusiastic to me,” said Stuart.
The teenage girl was checking her makeup in a mirror, while the boy sucked on a huge jawbreaker. He kept taking it out of his mouth to check to see whether it had changed color.
“Why’s it
wed
?” he asked.
“Don’t know,” said the girl.
“It was all
gween
and now it’s
wed
. How did it turn
wed
?”
“No idea,” said the girl. “You’ll drop it if you keep doing that,” she added.
“I won’t. Why isn’t it square? Why’s it
wound
?
“Because it just is.”
One of the old ladies tapped the girl on the shoulder. “Is that your little brother?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Aren’t you a kind girl taking him out!”
“Mom’s paying me,” said the girl. “She said he was driving her mad with his questions.”
“Why are we waiting here?” asked the boy. “Why can’t we go
in
?”
Just as he spoke, the door opened to reveal Clifford, dressed in a badly fitting silver suit and with a large Band-Aid on one hand.
“Sorry to start so late,” he said, “but I had a problem with the wild-animal finale. Come in.”
They filed into the hall. About a hundred chairs were arranged in rows, and a purple curtain drooped in front of the stage. Clifford disappeared behind it, and Stuart and April sat down in the front row. April did some more scribbling.
A late start was due to the magician being savaged by a wild beast.
“You make it sound as if his arm was hanging off,” said Stuart.
“Reviews have to be
dramatic
,” replied April loftily. “Otherwise no one will read them.”
From behind the curtain came a short burst of spooky music, and then all the lights went out, other than a flickering green EXIT sign by the door.
“
Oooh!
” said one of the old ladies. “Exciting!”
There was a long pause before the curtains opened in a series of jerks, revealing a darkened stage. After a moment a desk lamp clicked on, and Clifford hurried into the feeble spotlight, pushing a small cart decorated with silver stars.
“Welcome,” he said, “to the marvelously mysterious world of Mysterioso the Magician. A world where anything can happen—where red handkerchiefs can turn green …”
He took a red handkerchief out of his pocket, stuffed it carefully into one fist, said, “Abracadabra,” and pulled it back out again.
“It’s
gween
!” said the small boy in an awed voice.
There was a smattering of applause.
“A world where green handkerchiefs can turn red …” continued Clifford, doing the same trick again, only in reverse.
“And now it’s gone back to
wed
,” said the small boy, slightly less awed.
“Yes, a very mysterious and magical world where a blue handkerchief can turn yellow …” announced Clifford, taking a blue handkerchief out of his pocket and doing the whole trick all over again. “And where a yellow handkerchief can turn blue!”
This time, only Stuart and April applauded.
