Order of the Majestic Page 8

  Joey’s eyes widened. Redondo had learned magic from the ghost of Houdini! It was almost too much for his brain to handle. “This is what they’re after, isn’t it? The Invisible Hand… This is what that guy in the top hat wants.”

  “You catch on fast. Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.” Redondo plucked the wand out of the air and held it aloft. “After the death of Merlin, the Order of the Majestic was formed to preserve any magic worth saving. The Invisible Hand rose up in opposition. They’ve spent centuries collecting and stealing magic-infused items. Consolidating power. Nothing that once belonged to Merlin remains intact, but his wand… This is the prize. The most coveted magical artifact in the world.”

  “What makes it so special? What’s it do?”

  “Almost anything. You have to understand, the majority of magical objects do very specific things. Most of them were created long ago for singular, extraordinary purposes. Whips that leave behind gold coins when you crack them, boots that let you walk across water, hourglasses that slow time to a crawl… All quite miraculous, yes, but ultimately limited. It’s only a select few relics, like this one, that are able to act as conduits, tapping into the world’s dwindling supply of magic—harnessing it to bring imagination to life.” Redondo aimed the wand at the enchanted playing cards. They disassembled and reassembled themselves in the form of a scale model of the Eiffel tower. “To enchant nonmagical objects.” He flicked his wand again, and they rose into the air, taking the shape of a snowflake. “To make new magic.” One last, tight circular motion with the wand had the snowflake rotating in midair as the cards flipped and turned like a kaleidoscope image. “It takes a lifetime to learn how, but for those who know how to use it, this wand can do nearly anything. Its connection to magical energy is stronger than any other known artifact. Are you still with me?” Redondo asked, snapping his fingers to draw Joey’s attention back from the floating cards.

  “I’m with you.” So far it was easy enough to follow. The majority of the world’s magical objects worked with a spotty Wi-Fi magic signal, but Houdini’s wand had a hard-line fiber-optic connection to the source. Joey declined to share this analogy with Redondo.

  Redondo brought his hands together with a clap, and the wand vanished between them. The cards continued to turn in the air like a Ferris wheel.

  Joey blinked. “This is unbelievable.”

  “Not for a magician. Magic requires belief. Also focus. Clarity of thought. Absence of fear. The relics aren’t enough by themselves. You can’t simply pick up a wand and say ‘Abracadabra.’ It takes more than that.”

  “You need a wand or a relic…,” Joey said, the wheels in his head turning along with the cards.

  “You need all of it.”

  “How did I get here, then? To this place? Wasn’t that magic? I didn’t have a relic. I didn’t have anything.”

  Redondo smiled. “Of course you did. Open the Mystery Box.” Joey picked up the empty magic set, only it wasn’t empty after all. When he opened it, the skeleton key was back inside the case, once more attached to the golden string. Redondo untied the knot around it. “I enchanted this key using Houdini’s wand a long time ago. Anyone who displayed the proper zeal for magic… this key would bring them to me, wherever I was—provided they believed. That was the first part of the test,” Redondo added. He handed the key to Joey. “From now on this is how you get here. Use it on any door. Unless you’d rather keep running the gauntlet outside?”

  “Definitely not,” Joey said, happy to know he would be able to avoid future run-ins with the shadows of the Invisible Hand. He took the key as if he were being handed a priceless diamond. “My own magical object. This is so cool.”

  “There’s a small bit of magic in there, but enough. Treat it with the respect it deserves, prove you can handle it, and maybe one day I’ll trust you with more. For twenty years I’ve kept Houdini’s wand safe from the Invisible Hand. If I bequeath it to you, that would become your responsibility. You think you’re ready for that?”

  Joey looked up with a start. He hesitated for a second, then said, “Yes.” Mainly because it felt like what he was expected to say. Redondo didn’t seem convinced.

  “We’ll see.” An unpleasant cough rattled out of Redondo. “As you continue to remind me, time is not on my side. I thought it was enough to keep this wand away from the Invisible Hand, but I see now I was wrong. Someone has to use it. I’m just not sure that someone is you.”

  “Who else is there?” Joey asked.

  Before Redondo could reply, they were interrupted. Someone was calling Redondo’s name. The voice was coming from outside the office. It sounded like it belonged to a young girl. Redondo checked his pocket watch, his expression casual and unconcerned. “That was fast.”

  “What was fast? Who is that?”

  Redondo gestured to a window on the wall. “See for yourself.”

  Joey knew that opening the window was pointless since they were down in the subbasement, but he got up and threw the shutters open just the same. He was surprised to find Redondo’s office was actually on the back wall of the theater, high up above the balcony, facing the stage. Looking down, he was even more surprised to find two sleepy-eyed children waiting below. “What the…? How?” Joey asked, unable to form a complete sentence. “Who are they?” he finally managed.

  Redondo joined him at the window, looking out. “They’re your competition.” He turned to Joey with a devilish wink. “Welcome to the second part of your test.”

  7 May the Best Magician Win

  “Competition? Since when is this a competition?”

  “Since about…” Redondo checked his pocket watch. “Five minutes ago.”

  Joey nearly fell over. “I was with you five minutes ago!”

  “Why are you acting so surprised? You saw me send out the birds.”

  “The birds?” Joey didn’t see what that had to do with anything. Then he realized Redondo must have been using the paper doves like messenger pigeons. “I thought you were showing me a trick. I didn’t expect—”

  “I told you, ‘expect the unexpected.’ To be honest, I’m not even sure this qualifies. Surely you don’t think you’re the first person to show up here looking to claim Houdini’s wand.”

  “I didn’t come here to claim Houdini’s wand. I didn’t even know it existed.” Joey leaned out over the windowsill, trying to get a better look at the other two children. “How did they know? Where did they come from?”

  “Over the years great magicians from around the world—my peers—have urged me to take on a protégé. I haven’t been in the market for an assistant in quite some time, but still they’ve sought me out, asking me to train their children and pass on Houdini’s legacy. Up until now I’ve refused them all. I’m sure these two were surprised to hear from me tonight, but they didn’t waste time getting here, did they?” He patted Joey’s shoulder. “They’re going to hate you, young Kopecky. Shall we join them?”

  Joey’s head whipped around toward Redondo. “Did you just say they’re going to hate me?”

  “Trust me, they hate you already. You’re in their way.” Joey felt a lump in his throat. He didn’t like this. “If I could offer you some advice, stop repeating everything I say in the form of a question. It makes you seem terribly dim. I’m telling you this for your own good. You don’t want to embarrass yourself down there, do you?”

  Redondo lifted a long black cane out of an umbrella stand by the door. Passing the cane to his other hand, he twirled it with a theatrical flourish. The fancy walking stick had a shining silver handle in the shape of a perched raven. Reaching up with the cane, Redondo hooked the silver bird through a steel ring in the ceiling and pulled open an attic door. The rectangular hatch above their heads swung down, and a wooden stepladder folded out and locked neatly into place. Redondo gave it a shake, testing its sturdiness. “That’ll do,” he said, satisfied with the ladder’s durability. “Up you go.”

  “Up?” Joey repeated, staring into the p
itch-black attic space. Redondo sighed. Joey was doing the question thing again. “Sorry.” Joey didn’t understand how climbing up the ladder would lead him down to the stage, but he did as he was told, ascending into darkness.

  Redondo clapped his hands. “Chop, chop, young Kopecky. The hour is already late. No more questions. Climb.”

  Joey picked up the pace, his stomach clenching tighter with each step. Before he reached the top, his head bumped on a low ceiling. There was nowhere to go.

  “That’s it; you’re nearly there,” Redondo said, urging him on from below.

  Joey pushed on the ceiling, which gave way, rising on a hinge. Light poured in through the opening, and Joey saw the footlights of the stage, along with two pairs of illuminated feet. Somehow, the attic door in the office ceiling doubled as a trapdoor in the stage floor below. It made sense in a roundabout sort of way. They had gone down to go up, so naturally they had to go up in order to get back down. Even so, as Joey pushed the door open the rest of the way, he gawked at the main house of the theater with eyes as wide as billiard balls.

  Joey crawled out of the door in the floor and gave a nod to the boy and girl who stood there waiting patiently. They both looked to be about Joey’s age and had identical “Who the heck are you?” looks on their faces. The boy was at least a foot taller than Joey. He had a linebacker’s body, light brown skin, and a judgmental scowl. Joey felt the boy looking down on him both literally and figuratively. He wore black pants, a bright red shirt, and a cape that went down to his waist—Lando Calrissian style. The cape was black to match his pants, with a shiny gold interior lining. Joey almost joked that he didn’t know this was a costume party, but something told him the boy wouldn’t find it funny. Standing next to him was a young girl who had wavy black hair with a bright red streak in it. Several pendants and medallions hung around her neck, and she wore a folk dress with embroidered patterns and beaded fringes. The girl studied Joey with a curious expression. She was very pretty. So much so that Joey shied away from looking her in the eye. It was an awkward moment. He didn’t know what to say. “Hey” was all he could muster. The other two children said nothing. Their dead stares made Joey uncomfortable, and he struggled to fill the silence between them. “Hi. I’m, uh… My name’s—”

  “Excuse me,” Redondo broke in. “One side please.” Joey realized he was blocking the trapdoor exit.

  “Sorry.” He scuttled back a few steps to make way for Redondo.

  Joey felt relief as the spotlight shifted away from him. Once Redondo took the stage, he was no longer the center of attention. Redondo stood tall, all eyes on him, which seemed to suit the old man just fine. Taking his moment, he circled the trapdoor and tapped it shut with his cane. A cloud of dust puffed up as the door slammed down, causing Redondo to lapse into another one of his coughing fits. “Pardon me,” he said, frowning, once he regained his composure. Not exactly the entrance he had hoped to make, if Joey had to guess. Redondo turned to face the three children. “Let’s get the introductions out of the way. You know who I am?” Everyone nodded. “Good. You’re Hassan’s boy, I take it?” he said, addressing the boy in the cape.

  The boy stepped forward. “I am indeed,” he replied in what sounded like a Middle Eastern accent. “Shazad Hassan of Jorako.”

  “And how are things in Jorako?” Redondo asked. “Well, I hope?”

  Shazad smiled. “Always.”

  Redondo gave a nod. “Welcome to the Majestic Theatre, Shazad.” He continued on to greet the young girl. “You can only be—”

  She stepped forward. “Leanora Valkov, formerly of Freedonya, presently of the traveling Nomadik clan of magicians. Why are we here?”

  Joey’s eyebrows went up. This Leanora was a bold one. She spoke with a tone that commanded respect—and got it. Her tough Russian accent was part of the reason, but there was more to it than that. She was confident and direct. The way she kept her chin up, looked Redondo square in the eye, and held his gaze was more than impressive; it was downright intimidating.

  Redondo smiled. “Why do you think you’re here, Leanora?”

  “I take it you’re looking for an assistant?”

  “More than that,” Redondo said behind a tiny cough. “A successor.”

  Leanora’s eyes widened, appreciating the opportunity before her. “In that case, I have a different question. Why are we all here?”

  “I’d like to know that as well,” Shazad chimed in. “Surely, you don’t need—”

  “Anyone but me,” Leanora cut in, raising her voice to be heard over Shazad.

  Shazad and Leanora eyed each other competitively, sizing each other up with standoffish looks. Each of them was clearly of the opinion that they were the most talented young magician on the stage. Joey wished he had some of that same fire in his belly, but there in that moment, his stomach felt cold as ice. He was still reeling from the news that it wouldn’t just be him learning magic with Redondo. Even worse, he might not get the chance to learn anything at all. Instead of teaching Joey, Redondo had decided to turn the whole affair into a reality show competition. Welcome to America’s Next Top Magician! Joey worried that his origin story was going to be over before it began. Already out of his element, he suddenly felt way out of his league. Where did these two come from? Freedonya? Jorako? Joey had never heard of any of these places. “I’m sorry, what does that mean?” he asked, trying to keep up. “The traveling Nomadik clan? What’s that?”

  “It’s a nice way of saying her people are too reckless with their magic to ever stay in one place very long. A Nomadik’s only home is the road,” Shazad said with a detached air about him.

  “At least we use our magic to do more than hide,” Leanora replied, getting defensive. “What’s the use of having magic artifacts if you’re afraid to do anything with them?”

  “My family keeps magic artifacts safe,” Shazad countered. “We don’t put them at risk by going out and playing hero.”

  Leanora smirked. “You’re the only one here wearing a cape. Where’s your mask, Boy Wonder?”

  Joey snickered. Shazad shot him a stern look and he stopped laughing immediately.

  “This cape is a priceless relic, cut from an ancient cloak of transfiguration,” Shazad told Leanora, reaching for the hem of the shiny fabric. “I promise you, I’m not afraid to use it.”

  Leanora set her jaw and fixed Shazad with a hard stare. Joey watched as she clutched at one of the medallions that was strung around her neck. At the same time, she made a fist with her other hand. It lit up red and orange, like burning embers in a fire. Joey saw the bones inside her hand, silhouetted in black. His mouth fell open. Shazad didn’t bat an eye.

  “Is that supposed to scare me?” he asked.

  “It should,” Leanora told him. “It’s a firestone. With this I could punch a hole in a mountain. What do you think it would do to you?”

  Joey took a couple of steps back. He was afraid of what was in Leonora’s hand, even if Shazad wasn’t. She drew her fist back, ready to throw a fiery punch.

  “Ah, ah, ah…,” Redondo said, intervening. “We’ll have none of that.” He waved Houdini’s wand in the air, drawing light and power away from Leanora’s hand until the wand lit up like a magnesium flare. It hurt Joey’s eyes to look at it, but Redondo extinguished the light simply by covering the tip with his fingers. It made a hissing noise, like a red-hot poker being plunged into ice water. “We’re all friends here,” Redondo said. Everyone stared at the wand as smoke drifted up and away from it. “Well, perhaps not friends,” Redondo allowed, “but this is a friendly competition. Which means you are not to threaten, endanger, or otherwise end the lives of any of your rivals in this theater. Do I make myself clear?”

  Joey gulped. Did he just say “end the lives”?

  Joey tried to gauge Leanora’s and Shazad’s reactions to that, but it didn’t look like they had heard a word Redondo had said. They were staring at the wand as if in a trance. On the plus side, Redondo inserting the wand into
the situation had quelled the bourgeoning unrest between them. “Do I have your attention now? Good. You want to know why you’re all here? This is why,” Redondo said, brandishing the wand. “To prove yourselves worthy of inheriting Houdini’s legacy. Go ahead. Have a look.” He handed the wand to Shazad, surprising him. Shazad took the wand carefully, as if it were a sleeping baby he was trying not to wake. He felt its weight in his hands and studied it in awe before passing the wand to Leanora. She accepted the wand with care and examined it like a museum curator inspecting a priceless work of art. Next, it was Joey’s turn. He knew from Redondo and the other children’s reactions that the wand was a one-of-a-kind treasure, but it didn’t feel like anything special. He held it aloft as if ready to cast a spell. Houdini’s wand didn’t strike him as any more substantial than the wand he had purchased at Universal Studios the summer before last.

  “Nothing happened,” he said.

  “Of course nothing happened,” Redondo said, taking the wand back. “What did you expect? Swirling winds? A choir of angels serenading you as heavenly light shined down from above? You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

  “I don’t understand. Why are we here now?” Shazad asked. “My parents asked you to take me on more than a year ago.”

  “Mine as well,” Leanora added. “With all due respect, why are we called here out of the blue, and at such an hour?” She put her hands up. “Don’t misunderstand. I’m grateful for the opportunity. My parents thank you. I thank you.… I came running, of course. But what is different? What has changed?”

  “Two things. Number one, I’m dying.” This information elicited the appropriate expressions of alarm, concern, and sympathy from Leanora and Shazad. “As for difference number two…” Redondo waved a hand, presenting Joey, whom no one had paid any attention to so far. “It’s him. This boy. Joey Kopecky of Hoboken, New Jersey. He changed everything.”

  Joey froze as all eyes turned once more to him.