Shadowplay (38 page)

Whatever he saw in my face frightened him. He ran from the stage, and I would be certain he wouldn’t tell a soul he was soundly beaten by a boy he thought might have magical powers.

Micah! Hurry!
Cyan called from below the stage.

I heard Drystan say, “You shall become the love I never had…” and I raced toward the stage. There was less than a minute.

Don’t go up the star trap without me, Cyan, it’s too dangerous!
I yelled at her.

I wrenched open the trap door and jumped down below the stage, even though it was a deep drop, for there was no time for the ladder. Cyan stood near the star trap machine, wringing her hands.

“Thanks,” I panted. “You saved the performance.”

“Yes, I know. No time. Hurry!”

I fiddled with the machinery. Just in time, the trapdoor opened and the automaton slid down the star trap. I caught her and set her down.

“Come on, Cyan.”

She stepped onto the platform. She had painted her face with silver swirls, though at my request, she had made them look less like Anisa’s markings. She bent down and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. An apology. A comfort.

I pulled the lever, and she rose to the stage. She unhooked the sleeves and the audience gasped as she revealed herself to them.

“My love!” Drystan spoke of her beauty and perfection, and she covered her face again, as if in shyness. I pulled the lever, and Cyan came back down the star trap. Up above, Drystan reached for her, and the dress collapsed. To the audience, it was if she had disappeared completely. In reality, the dress was sucked into a tube, which Drystan covered with his leg. The tube and the dress dropped back down the star trap and I caught them.

Drystan cried out in surprise and dismay. He admitted the errors of his ways – and he repented to the Lord and Lady, throwing his magic books into a chest.

Cyan wiped the silver from her face and hurried to the trapdoor beneath the spirit cabinet and climbed the ladder. She emerged from the cabinet up above.

“Is the real girl not better than the magic one?” she asked, teasingly.

Drystan fell to his knees.

“Do you love me?” she asked.

“More than anything, my sweet! More than the moon loves the sun.”

“Would you give up your magic for me?”

“In a heartbeat, though it would be like tearing my heart in twain.”

She reached down and tilted his head up at her. “Then I will not ask such a thing of you. But you must not let it overwhelm the goodness at your core.”

They embraced, and I fought down a scowl again as I climbed behind the stage to the gridiron above.

Stop fretting, Micah.
Cyan said.
Though he’s a good kisser.

There’s still time!
Cyan teased before breaking the kiss. As they did, I ran across the gridiron, releasing confetti and glitter. Cyan and Drystan bowed to thunderous applause before the curtains fell.

 

 “I can’t believe what Taliesin did,” Cyan said backstage, clutching Oli close. “He nearly cost us everything.”

“Taliesin?” Drystan echoed.

“He tried to ruin us.” I said. “He knocked out Oli.”

Oli pointed to his head to illustrate, swaying slightly on his feet.

“Oli, you should go get some ice from the dressing room for your head,” I said. “You don’t want that bump to swell any more.”

He nodded and grimaced before weaving his way to the dressing room.

When Oli left, I took the Eclipse from my back pocket. “He had this.”

“Hurry up and hide it,” Drystan urged. “Anyone sees you with that and they’ll either steal it or report you to the policiers.”

“Styx.” I put it in my suit pocket.

Maske found us, beaming. “Marvelous. You were all marvelous. I couldn’t be prouder.” He gave all of us rough hugs and a kiss on the top of our heads. It was still so strange to see him so affectionate.

The Collective of Magic went to deliberate, and the guests again congregated in the main foyer, drinking and discussing the duel. I hoped they were not disappointed. We huddled in the dressing room. Maske downed a large whisky – the smell of which still made me gag – and the rest of us stared at the bottle of champagne morosely. Drystan and I sat close together, holding hands so tightly it almost hurt. Oli held ice against his head and Cyan wrung her hands together next to him, staring off into the distance.

No. They’re too far away for me to hear, unfortunately. I’m listening to Taliesin and his grandsons
.
The boys don’t know what Taliesin tried to do.
Her voice warmed with triumph.
They’re worried. Couldn’t believe how well we performed.

To be honest, neither could I.

 

After half an hour of deliberation, the Collective called everyone back into the auditorium. The audience took a long time to settle back into their seats. I fought the irrational urge to yell at them to hurry up so we could learn our fate. Finally, everyone fell silent.

Professor David Delvin stood in the center of the stage, flanked by some of the best magicians of the age – the leaders of the Collective of Magic.

Professor Delvin waved to the left side of the stage. Taliesin came out, limping along with his cane, the feathers of his turban bobbing. He tried to come across as triumphant, but I saw how he favored his arm, and how he would not look at me or Maske.

His grandsons followed, straight-backed, smiling disarmingly at the crowd. My stomach felt as though it dropped to my knees. These twins had been born on the stage and lived and breathed magic their entire lives. Their show had far more money behind it, and was flashier. I could not help but think we had no chance, even if I had foiled Taliesin’s plot.

I gripped Drystan’s hand even harder.

Professor Delvin gestured to his right, and I released Drystan’s hand so Maske, Cyan, and he could walk onstage. They blinked under the bright glass globes of the theatre.

“This was not an easy decision to make. The Taliesin Twins of the well-known and beloved Specter Shows performed wonderfully, illustrating their supposed power over death.

“And the newcomers, whom many proclaimed the underdogs, Maske’s Marionettes, also gave a stunning performance, focusing their magic into showing the inherent dangers of letting it overwhelm you. Both acts stunned, delighted, and amazed, just as good magic should.

“And so, how to choose?”

He paused, turning toward the other members of the Collective of Magic. I did not know their names, but they were all men with graying hair, wearing immaculate suits, their blank magicians’ smiles giving away no secrets. Had they found us worthy or wanting?

“After a long deliberation by the Collective of Magic, with input from the Royal Princess Nicolette Snakewood of Ellada herself, we have come to our decision.”

He paused again, and I couldn’t breathe. Maske, Cyan, and Drystan all gripped each other’s hands. I tried to read Cyan’s face, but if she intuited anything, none of it showed. Taliesin glared past the Collective of Magic and Maske and his marionettes, his gaze resting on me. Now that his fear was gone, it was only rage, but impotent. I glared right back at him, my throat tight with fear and anticipation.

“The winners of the duel between the scions of the great magicians of Pen Taliesin and Jasper Maske are…”

Another pause. The tension in the audience rose. Everyone in the theatre, and all the folk out in the parks on the cold night, I was sure, held their breaths. My entire body tingled, and I could not take my eyes from his face.

“Jasper Maske, and his Marionettes: Amon Ayu and Madame Damselfly!”

My knees shook in relief. I sagged against one of the columns to the side of the stage, my face hurting from smiling so hard.

We did it. We actually did it.

“As I said, it was very difficult – almost impossible – to choose between two teams of magicians of such obvious talent and skill,” Professor Delvin continued. “In the end, Maske’s Marionettes won due to a slightly superior execution of tricks, a more cohesive storyline, and a truly spectacular finale. Well done to you all.” He bowed to them, and they bowed in turn. I couldn’t believe it. On the stage, Cyan wiped tears from her eyes, beaming from ear to ear, the grin echoed on Drystan’s and Maske’s faces. Maske stood straight and tall, a man come back to life.

Taliesin’s face darkened with rage. I half-expected him to punch Professor Delvin in the face. Sind and Jac Taliesin, by contrast, were flabbergasted, their eyes wide and mouths open.

Taliesin and his grandsons shuffled to the left of the stage, still visible but no longer smirking. One of the twins looked like he might be crying.

The curtains of the stage pulled back again, and all of our props had been cleared away and the scenery changed to a painted canvas of the sunset over the ocean of Imachara Beach. My gaze rested on the section of the beach where R.H. Ragona’s Circus of Magic had camped last summer.

But then someone came onto the stage. The Princess Royal walked toward Maske, straight-backed. She wore a royal smile – pleasant and distant – but her eyes sparkled. She held a small box in her outstretched hands. When she reached Maske, she craned her neck up at him.

Guards flanked the stage, and when I turned my head, a man stood next to me, flanked by more guards. I started as I recognized the Royal Steward of Ellada. I’d never seen him up close. He had a full head of gray hair and deep pouches beneath his eyes that made him look sleepy, though his eyes were bright and keen as black buttons.

“Who’s this?” he asked his guards.

“One of Maske’s stagehands, Sam,” the other said without a pause, and my eyes widened, a shiver running over me. The Steward gave me a cool stare and looked back to the stage.

“Mister Maske, Madame Damselfly, and Amon Ayu,” she said, and her small, childish voice carried throughout the theatre. “I congratulate you on your victory tonight, and offer you a small token of my gratitude for an evening of delightful entertainment.” The words were rehearsed but I could tell she had indeed enjoyed the performance.

Maske took the box, bowing as low as he could.

“I thank you most sincerely, Your Highness,” he intoned gravely. He opened the box, and within were three large pins set with diamonds and the emeralds of Ellada. The young, future queen asked them all to kneel, and she fastened the pins herself. She then bade them to rise, and they did, the pins sparkling on their breasts. My eyes shone with tears as I watched.

She inclined their head at them again. “Thank you again, Mister Maske. I look forward to perhaps seeing you and your colleagues perform at the palace someday.”

“It would be a singular pleasure, Your Highness.”

She smiled politely at him again and made her way off the stage, toward her uncle and therefore me. Her eyes met mine as she passed. “I recognize you,” she said. My mind spun in a panic. Had I ever met the Princess Royal as Iphigenia Laurus? Only once, and she would have been far too young, only a toddler, to remember me among the crowds at her birthday party at the palace.

“You were the Chimaera ghost!”

Sweet relief flooded through me. “I am… I was, Your Highness,” I stammered.

She smiled, and unlike the one on stage, this appeared genuine. “And you did everything backstage?”

“I did, though our friend Oli helped.”

“Was it difficult?” she asked, and her voice lost that forced, royal cadence. She was like any other curious child.

I smiled back. “It was, Your Highness. I had to run around an awful lot. But it was a lot of fun as well, and very rewarding. I am so proud of my friends.”

“I hope you will come and perform at the palace for me.”

Mindful of the Steward and his cool gaze, I lowered myself to one knee. “We would love nothing more, Your Highness.”

She grinned outright, and I saw she was missing a front tooth. She was so adorable I wanted to gather her into my arms for a hug, future monarch or no.

“Come, Nicolette, it is time to be going,” the Steward said.

“Yes, uncle,” she said obediently, her smile fading.

“Good night, Your Highness,” I said.

“Good night… what is your name?”

I hesitated for a heartbeat, my mind scrabbling for a full name. “Sam… Harper, Your Highness.”

“Good night then, Mister Harper.”

I watched her go before turning my attention back to the stage. Professor Delvin and the other magicians gave short speeches about the merits of magic as entertainment and praising Maske for his performance. Taliesin had limped off the stage in disgust, but the two grandsons remained; it seemed almost cruel for them to still be there. Professor Delvin now listed the prizes: a sizeable cash sum – enough that we could renovate the theatre in full and still have plenty left over; full support of the Collective for new shows and performances; and, as mentioned, the wager of old was settled. Jasper Maske could perform magic and illusion with no hindrance, and Pen Taliesin and his grandsons would have to shut their doors. The Specter Shows would be no more.

I chewed my lip at that. One morning several weeks ago, I had broached the subject with Maske of what would happen if we won – if he would truly keep up his end of the bargain and ruin the boys’ career.

“Why do you care?” he asked. “There’s no love between the twins and you. Especially Drystan.” The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement as he remembered the tale of the fistfight after the Specter Shows.

“No, but it’s not their fault their grandfather is a tosser, is it?” I asked.