Whetū Toa and the Magician

by Steph Matuku

  First published in 2018 by Huia Publishers

  39 Pipitea Street, PO Box 12280

  Wellington, Aotearoa New Zealand

  www.huia.co.nz

  ISBN 978-1-77550-353-8 (print)

  ISBN 978-1-77550-364-4 (EPUB)

  ISBN 978-1-77550-365-1 (Kindle)

  Text copyright © Steph Matuku 2018

  Illustrations copyright © Katharine Hall 2018

  This book is copyright. Apart from fair dealing for the purpose of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part may be reproduced by any process without the prior permission of the publisher.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the National

  Library of New Zealand.

  Published with the assistance of

  Ebook conversion 2018 by meBooks

  To Wi Henry and Elsie

  The magic started with you.

  BEGINNINGS

  ERRANT

  CLEANING

  INTRODUCTIONS

  DIAMONDS AND DIVISION

  INCONSOLABULL

  ARRANGEMENTS

  JOBS

  WHETŪ HAS A LITTLE LAMB

  HARDER THAN IT LOOKS

  DEBT

  GETTING THINGS DONE

  HARD WORK IS GOOD FOR YOU

  THE MAGICIAN RETURNS

  CHANGES

  A NEW JOB

  THE DRESSING ROOM

  ERRANT’S PROMISE

  WARNING

  GETTING READY

  THE SHOW

  DANGEROUS MAGIC

  RECOVERY

  1

  – BEGINNINGS –

  The little cottage in the country was very different to their old apartment in the city. No car horns, just birdsong. No concrete, just grass and flowers. No noisy neighbours banging around next door, just the faint sound of horses whinnying somewhere nearby.

  Whetū’s mother turned off the car engine. It was very quiet without the ancient motor whining and complaining. “Come on, let’s get our suitcases out.”

  Whetū squeezed her mother’s hand. “It’s not too late to change your mind, Mum. Are you sure you want to work for a magician?”

  “A magician is just like anyone else. He needs his house cleaned and his bills paid and his business managed. He’s far too busy to do it all himself.”

  “I’d have thought he could use magic to do all those things,” said Whetū, but only very quietly. Mum was excited about her new job, and Whetū didn’t want to spoil it for her. She was now The Mighty Mikaere’s new personal assistant, which meant she was in charge of his home and business while he travelled the world, performing magic on stage for adoring audiences. The Mighty Mikaere was very famous, very rich, and also very secretive. Neither Whetū nor her mother had ever met him.

  “It’s lucky for us that he doesn’t do it all himself,” said Mum, “otherwise I wouldn’t have a job and we’d have to live in the car.”

  She fished out a piece of paper from her handbag and squinted at it, trying to read the magician’s old-fashioned scrawl. “The key’s under the doormat. Go and look, there’s a love.”

  The front doormat had a picture of a cheerful duck on it. Whetū peeked underneath and took out a big iron key. She stuck it in the keyhole, turned it with both hands, and pushed open the door. As she stepped forward, she trod on the mat, and to her surprise it quacked – loudly and indignantly. Whetū got such a fright she dropped the key, which landed on the porch with a loud clang. The doormat lifted up and the key rolled back underneath. The doormat settled down again, wriggling this way and that, like a real duck settling on its eggs, waiting for them to hatch.

  Mum was getting their suitcases out of the car and hadn’t noticed anything strange. Whetū pulled her back, just as she was about to step on the doormat.

  “Don’t, Mum! I think you’d better jump over it.”

  “Don’t be silly, Whetū.” She trod heavily on the duck’s face and the mat quacked loudly and flapped its edges. Mum squealed and backed away. “I see what you mean. I’m glad I didn’t wipe my feet on it – it might have bitten me!”

  Mum slipped off her shoes and went into the house. The doormat didn’t move. It lay there, quietly innocent, as a doormat should be.

  “Whetū!” called Mum. “Stop scowling at the doormat! Come and choose a bedroom!”

  Whetū toed off her sneakers. Unlike the key, they stayed where she left them, neatly side by side on the porch.

  The house felt as though it hadn’t had any visitors for a long time. Mum threw open the windows to let the fresh air chase away the musty smell. Whetū investigated all the rooms downstairs – the kitchen, the bathroom, the living room, and a funny little room her mother said would do for storage. Old bits of furniture, faded pictures and dusty ornaments were scattered about everywhere.

  Whetū climbed a flight of steep narrow stairs and found two little bedrooms opposite each other. One had walls painted in a soft cream colour, but the other one had dark blue wallpaper with bright silver constellations all over it. Naturally she chose that one, because her name, Whetū, meant ‘star’.

  She crossed over to the window and looked down to the fields below. There were horses in one, which pleased Whetū very much, because she liked horses. A sturdy bull was grazing in another, which didn’t please Whetū as much as the horses did. The field between them was empty.

  On the far side of the fields stood a big red barn, a few tumbledown sheds and another house. It wasn’t like any house she’d ever seen before. It looked more like a lighthouse – very tall, white and skinny, but bent sideways in the middle, a bit like an upside-down ‘L’. Pink smoke billowed from one of the windows, and Whetū knew that was where the magician lived.

  Whetū turned away from the window and caught a glimpse of something darting behind the iron bedstead. There were no blankets or duvets on the bed, just a rather dusty white mattress. She dropped to her knees on the threadbare carpet and peered underneath. Out of the corner of her eye she saw another whisking movement, and the curtains trembled, as if something had just scuttled behind them.

  “Mum!” shouted Whetū. “I think we’ve got mice!”

  There was no answer.

  Still, she thought, it could be worse. It could be rats.

  She tiptoed over to the curtain and quickly pulled it aside, but there was nothing there. She frowned. She had almost definitely seen something. Whetū turned around and gasped. Sitting in the middle of her bed was a large white rabbit.

  “Don’t just stand there with your mouth open,” the rabbit said. “Haven’t you ever seen a rabbit before?”

  2

  – ERRANT –

  “I’m sorry,” said Whetū, after a short pause. “I thought you were mice.”

  The rabbit gave a disgusted snort. “Mice? I am a rabbit, you silly girl. Behold my magnificent feet, my glorious tail, my sweeping ears! I am no more a mouse than I am a goldfish.”

  “I can see that now.”

  Whetū didn’t much like the way he spoke to her. He was a very handsome rabbit, and his fur was groomed and gleamed white, but his teeth were too sharp in front and his eyes were a strangely faded shade of pink.

  “Welcome to the cottage!” said the rabbit, inclining his head graciously. “My name is Errant.”

  “My name is Whetū Toa,” Whetū said. “And my mother is The Mighty Mikaere’s new personal assistant.”

  “I know that,” said Errant. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Is your mother any good?”

  Whetū’s voice grew stern. “My mother is the best ever.”

  “I don’t mean as a mother, I mean as an assistant. There’s more to being an assistant than
just standing to one side looking beautiful.” The rabbit preened himself with a smug expression.

  “Oh! Are you an assistant too, then?”

  “I’m the magician’s stage assistant. It’s a very important job. Why, he wouldn’t get paid half so much if I wasn’t there to help him!”

  “What do you do, exactly?” said Whetū, getting interested. She’d never met a stage assistant before. But then again, she’d never met a talking rabbit or a quacking doormat before, either.

  “What do I do? For starters, I allow myself to be pulled out of top hats. And believe me, that’s not an easy job. One has to perform feats of extraordinary acrobatic athleticism to even get into the thing in the first place! It’s certainly not a job for someone who’s claustrophobic.”

  “No, I suppose not,” said Whetū, who had no idea what claustrophobic meant but wasn’t about to tell the rabbit that. “What else do you do?”

  “I engage with the audience,” Errant said impressively.

  There was a short silence.

  “What does that mean?” said Whetū.

  Errant sighed. “Don’t you know anything?”

  “Of course I do!” said Whetū indignantly. “I know adding and spelling and writing and … I can even skate backwards. I just don’t know much about magicians or magicians’ assistants. They’re not very common where I come from.”

  She waited for him to ask where she came from, but he didn’t.

  “Oh, very well,” Errant said in a bored voice. “I suppose we can’t all be blessed with stage experience.”

  He thumped one of his hind legs on the bed. A cloud of dust rose up. He sneezed and leapt onto the floor.

  “You’d better clean up this mess. And then I’ll take you on a tour of the farm and introduce you to everybody else.”

  “Who’s everybody?” said Whetū, but the rabbit had already vanished around the open door. Whetū went after him. “Who’s everybody?” she repeated, but the hallway was empty.

  3

  – CLEANING –

  Whetū and her mother spent a good few hours unloading their things from the car and getting everything settled. The cottage was very dusty, and Whetū was given the job of going over things with a large pink feather duster. Dusting the furniture was easy enough, but the ornaments on the mantelpiece didn’t like it at all.

  The porcelain goose girl got the giggles when Whetū tickled her with the duster, and ran around in circles squealing with laughter. When Whetū tried to clean the clock, its hands went round and round, faster and faster, and only stopped when she did. Unfortunately, the hands were stuck on the wrong time and Whetū couldn’t work out how to put them right. The spotted china dog growled and tugged at the duster, spitting pink feathers everywhere, and the little wooden Māori boy jabbed her with his carved taiaha whenever she went anywhere near him.

  Eventually she finished dusting the living room and wandered into the kitchen for something to eat. Her mother was washing dirty vases in the sink. Whetū chose a shiny red apple from the bowl on the table and sat down.

  “Mum,” she said, taking a big bite of her apple. “Don’t you think there are a rather lot of weird things going on in this house?’

  “Yes,” said her mother. “But it does belong to a magician, after all. Does it frighten you?”

  “No.”

  “Nor me. I think it’s all very interesting.”

  Mum yanked the plug out of the sink and the water went down the drain with a gurgle. There was silence for a moment, and then the sink let out a terrific burp. Whetū and her mother looked at each other and giggled.

  “Mind your manners,” Mum said, giving the sink a swat with the tea towel.

  “I’ll be going out soon,” said Whetū.

  “Out where?”

  “Exploring the farm. The magician’s stage assistant said he’d show me around. His name is Errant. Isn’t that a funny name?”

  “Do you know what it means? It means ‘misbehaving’. You’d better keep an eye on Errant and make sure he doesn’t get you into trouble.”

  A loud knock at the back door startled them both. Mum swung the door open. Errant sat on the doorstep with a red rose between his teeth. When he saw Mum he stood on his hind legs and made a graceful bow.

  “Isn’t he sweet!” cooed Mum. She bent and took the rose. “What a handsome fellow!”

  “I am enchanted to make your acquaintance, madam,” said Errant.

  Mum blinked in surprise, but recovered quickly. “Er … likewise.”

  “Mum, this is Errant,” said Whetū, sliding off her stool. “I’ll see you later.”

  Mum gave her a kiss and muttered in her ear. “Remember what I told you.”

  Whetū smiled and slipped out the door, pausing just long enough to put on her red gumboots. Her mother was such a worrier. How much trouble could a little rabbit be?

  4

  – INTRODUCTIONS –

  A little winding track ran through the back garden. It led through a few bushes to a stile over a wire fence. Errant hopped through the wires, but Whetū had to clamber over the top. The track continued on through the empty field Whetū had seen from her window. On the other side was a courtyard with a red barn, a chicken coop, a large pig sty and a wooden wagon.

  “Come on, slowcoach,” said Errant, bounding ahead. “I told everyone you’d be coming ages ago. You’re late.”

  Whetū quickened her pace, but she couldn’t help feeling annoyed. Errant had only just called for her. It wasn’t her fault they were late.

  She climbed over the wire fence on the other side of the field and followed Errant into the yard.

  Errant cleared his throat loudly. “Ahem! She’s here!”

  Whetū’s hands were sweaty and she quickly wiped them on her shorts. She wondered who ‘everyone’ was, and if they’d like her.

  There was a low clucking sound, and a white chicken with a bright red comb poked its head out of the coop. It eyed Whetū with its head on one side before making its way daintily down the wooden ramp to the bottom.

  “These are the chickens,” said Errant.

  Whetū waited for more to appear, but there was only the one chicken, scratching idly in the dust.

  “Hello,” said Whetū, a little awkwardly.

  “Buk, buk, buk,” said the chicken, in the way that chickens do.

  “Doesn’t it talk?” whispered Whetū to Errant.

  Errant twitched an ear. “Don’t your tiny ears work? She just said, ‘Hello, how are you, and would you like a worm?’”

  “Oh! I didn’t quite catch that.” Whetū bent down and said to the chicken, “I’m fine, thank you. I’m very pleased to meet you and I’d rather not have a worm, I’ve just had an apple.”

  Errant burst into raucous laughter. He clutched his furry tummy, fell onto his back and waggled his big feet in the air.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Whetū.

  “Chickens don’t talk, stupid! Can’t you even tell when something’s a joke?”

  Whetū was cross. “If that was a joke, it wasn’t a very funny one. How was I supposed to know chickens don’t talk? You do!”

  “I’m not a chicken!” Errant got to his feet. His fur was dusty. “And don’t be so rude, or I won’t introduce you to anyone else!”

  “You’ve introduced me to one chicken. Big deal.”

  “I told you – it’s not a chicken. It’s a whole flock of chickens!”

  “Stop fibbing!” said Whetū, looking at the lone chicken scratching in the dust. “Or I’ll go home!”

  Only half-joking, she turned back towards the wire fence. Errant shouted something that sounded like “Alaka kalaka zalama zoo!”

  BANG!

  Whetū tripped over a feathered white body and landed flat on her bottom in the midst of a seething mass of white chickens that had suddenly appeared from nowhere.

  She struggled to her feet. The entire courtyard was covered in chickens, pecking and scratching and flapping and clucking and
squabbling and strutting. The noise was deafening. Errant sat smugly, perched high on a little wooden wagon.

  “Told you it was a flock,” he called.

  Whetū lifted her gumboots high and waded through the birds towards him. She was careful not to tread on any, but the chickens weren’t so careful about hurting her. By the time she reached the wagon, her knees were covered with angry red marks from their beaks and claws.

  She clambered up beside him and looked down at the mass of chickens. “There must be hundreds of them!”

  “Thousands,” said Errant. “That’s why we keep them all in one chicken. Otherwise they eat too much and do too much damage, scratching away at everything and pooing all over the place. Of course, they do come in handy when a thousand pavlovas need to be cooked. Pavlovas use a lot of eggs, you see.”

  Whetū’s mother always served pavlova for dessert at Christmas lunch, but never more than one. Whetū couldn’t imagine why anyone would need a thousand pavlovas. She was about to ask when there came an outraged baa-ing from the direction of the barn.

  “Wha-haa haa-hat is the meaning of this?”

  The barn door creaked open, and a glowing golden light came shining through, a light so dazzling that Whetū couldn’t look directly at it without squinting. The door opened wider, and the glow grew brighter. Standing in the doorway was a huge woolly sheep whose fleece was the colour of liquid sunshine.

  “That’s Ramses,” Errant said in a bored voice. “He runs the place. Or rather, he thinks he does.”

  “Who let the chickens out?” bellowed Ramses over the clucking and squawking and cackling.

  “That would be me,” said Errant. “This young lady wanted to see them.”

  “I did not!” said Whetū indignantly.

  Ramses fixed her with a stern eye. “Wanted to see them? Have you never seen chickens before?”

  “Well, yes I have, that is–” Whetū didn’t quite know what to say. The ram reminded her of a rather strict teacher at her old school.