by Steph Matuku
“There,” he said with satisfaction. “We’re halfway done already.”
He was moving towards the door as he spoke, and Whetū fell in behind him. Together they walked back onto the first floor landing. The magician shut the door, and the noise of the performers and the cry of, “One minute till curtain, Juggling Gents!” was cut off, leaving only silence.
“And now,” he said, “we shall go to rehearsal. We really haven’t a moment to lose.”
The magician led her up two more flights of stairs to a gallery. Unlike the floors below, there were no doors around the walls, just a single archway. Whetū followed the magician into a large empty room. One wall was covered with mirrored panels. A jumble of things took up one half of the room – a table with a top hat, a black cabinet, silver saws and swords, chains and scarves and a big cage that reminded Whetū of the one the carnivorous lamb was locked in.
“Props. I’ll show you the ones we’ll be using presently. But first, I need to share a little magic with you.”
“Will it hurt?” asked Whetū. A hint of nervousness was coming back.
“I shouldn’t think so. But it’s different for everyone. Some people are ready to accept a little magic in their lives, and some never will be, not even if they live to be a thousand years old. Hold out your hand.”
Whetū put out a trembling hand, and the magician firmly grasped it and closed his eyes. His lips began moving, muttering words that Whetū couldn’t understand. Finally he said something that sounded like, “Alaka kalaka zalama zoo!” and Whetū felt a fizzy warmth shoot up into her arm. It spread throughout her entire body and made her cheeks puff out in a little “Oh!” of astonishment.
“There!” said the magician. “Just as I thought. Perfectly ready for magic. Now, shall we begin?”
Whetū blinked. The world seemed different somehow. It was as though she was really seeing for the first time. Everything was clearer and brighter than before, and a faint golden glow lay over everything, as if lit by early summer sunlight. She had the strangest sense she could do anything she wanted, if only she tried hard enough.
“It takes a little getting used to,” the magician said. “Now, if you could please wheel over the little red table and the cabinet, and I’ll show you how we shall make our grand entrance. Let us begin!”
18
– ERRANT’S PROMISE –
The next morning, Whetū woke up, fingers and toes still tingling. A ray of sunlight streamed through the gap in the curtains, shining directly on a large star on the wallpaper, making it look like it was twinkling and turning.
Magic, she thought happily.
She got dressed and hurried through her breakfast, eager to get to the farm. She headed straight for the barn, where Ramses was lying on his straw.
“Good morning, Mr Ramses,” Whetū said. She retrieved his grain from the cupboard and poured it into the food trough.
“It’s a good morning for some,” the ram replied, “unless you’re a small rabbit with a very big ego.”
“So Errant knows I’m the magician’s new stage assistant? I suppose he’s not very happy about it.”
“He’s furious,” said Ramses with satisfaction. “And whatever little magic he did have is now quite gone. He’s just another plain, ordinary, unemployed rabbit.”
Whetū couldn’t help but feel it served Errant right. She fetched her broom and swept up the old straw. Then another thought struck her, “But what about the carnivorous lamb? If he hasn’t turned it back to normal, then–”
“Then he never will.”
“Oh dear. But I have a little magic in me now. Perhaps I could try?”
“You could,” said Ramses, but he didn’t look very hopeful.
Whetū finished cleaning Ramses’ stall as quickly as she could, then went outside and behind the barn. The silk-covered cage rattled as she approached, and she quickly undid the ties on the silk cover.
The fabric slid off, and the lamb threw itself against the bars, squealing and blinking in the morning light. A long rat’s tail dangled from its blood-stained mouth.
Whetū closed her eyes and tried to do what the magician had taught her the day before.
“Concentrate,” she murmured. “Think about what might be, and then make it happen!”
She threw out her hands as she thought the last word, and was almost immediately thrown onto her back from the force of a particularly spectacular explosion. The lamb had disappeared behind a huge veil of pink and yellow smoke. Coughing, Whetū raised herself onto her elbows. The smoke cleared to reveal the lamb lying on its side, blinking. It got to its feet, staggering a little, and then let out a high-pitched squeal and threw itself towards Whetū, growling fiercely. There was a loud clang as it hit the cage bars, and Whetū scrambled away until her back was against the barn wall.
“So much for your magic. I can’t wait to see what kind of mess you’ll get into on stage.” Errant strolled into view, his expression mocking. Whetū had been feeling guilty about replacing Errant as stage assistant, but his comments made her angry. She got up and brushed off her clothes.
“It was only my first time. You couldn’t do it, and you tried for ages.”
Errant scowled at her. “Anyway, I don’t even care. Nobody cares about magic any more. It’s old news. In fact, I hear this performance is going to be the last one the magician ever does. Even he knows it’s all over.”
“That’s not true,” said Whetū, but she remembered with a sinking feeling that the magician had asked her to perform just the once. What if Errant was telling the truth? She and her mother might be out of a job after all.
“We’ll see,” said Errant.
“If I can’t change the lamb back, I’ll have to tell the magician what you did. It won’t matter, now that you’re out of a job anyway.”
For the first time a look of fear passed over Errant’s face. “You wouldn’t.”
“I’ll have to. The cat’s fed up with feeding it, and it’s dangerous! The magician will take care of it, I know he will.”
“He’ll be so angry!” Errant crouched down as if avoiding some winged danger flying overhead. His paws came about his head, and he squirmed miserably. “He may even … he might get rid of me too.”
Whetū didn’t understand what he meant at first, and then the full meaning of his words hit her, and she gasped. “No, he wouldn’t!”
“You don’t know what he’s like,” whispered the rabbit. “He gets so angry. He’ll kill the lamb and then … and then … he’ll kill me!”
“He won’t,” she said, but she wasn’t sure. The magician was such a strange man, so kind one minute, so stern the next. Who knew what he’d do if he found out Errant had been using his magic for mischief?
“Give me one day,” said Errant, fixing Whetū with a pleading pink eye. “One day, and I’ll get rid of the lamb, and no one has to know.”
“But how?” said Whetū.
“The less you know, the better. I’ll sort it out, don’t worry.”
“Well … all right. One day. But if it isn’t done by tomorrow, I’ll have to tell him.”
Watching the rabbit writhing with fear in the dust had made her feel quite sad. One more day couldn’t hurt. She got to her feet and threw the silk fabric over the cage again, tying it carefully.
“Thank you, Whetū,” said the rabbit, and a flash of something that looked like triumph passed across his face, so quickly that Whetū thought she may have imagined it. “You won’t regret it. I’ll make sure of that.”
Errant was as good as his word. The next day, the silk-covered cage was gone.
19
– WARNING –
The week passed in a blur of animal feeds and rehearsals, and Whetū was getting better and better at both. Errant’s comment about the magician giving up magic forever did prey on her mind. A few times she wondered if she should tell her mother, but now that Mum had sorted out all the little bits of paper, she was happy in her work. Whetū didn’t want
to ruin it for her. And as for asking the magician himself? Well, that felt like impertinence. Although Whetū was becoming more used to him, she was still too in awe of him to chat to him like a friend.
She was heading back to the cottage for a quick snack when she noticed the bull standing by the fence, watching her. She raised a hand to wave. The bull flinched, but didn’t run off crying like he usually did. In fact, he looked as if he quite wanted to say something to her, but after two or three gulps he snorted and retreated to the far end of his field.
“He’s getting used to me,” thought Whetū happily. She was getting used to the farm too. Feeding and mucking out the animals was fun. Rehearsals with the magician were fun. She could feel her magic getting stronger, tingling in her fingers and toes, waiting to be used.
There was a banana sandwich waiting for her on the kitchen table. Her mother was folding a stack of clean clothes, wiping down the kitchen surfaces and keeping a close eye on the broom sweeping the floor. Mum quite often did lots of things at once.
“Last rehearsal today!” said Mum.
“Dress rehearsal,” said Whetū. “And technical rehearsal too. So that means costumes, lights, music, the works. All done to time, exactly as if we were on stage doing the real thing. All that’s missing is the audience.”
“So you get to wear your new dress! How exciting,” said Mum, but her face was sad.
“What’s the matter, Mum?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s just that I won’t be at the show. I can’t afford a ticket. And I’d have loved to see my little girl up there, in front of the King and Queen. Never mind. You’ll have to tell me all about it later.”
Whetū went quite pale. “I forgot!”
She ran up to her room. She came thundering down the stairs a moment later and handed her mother a gold envelope. “I was supposed to give you this yesterday.”
Her mother opened the envelope, and out fell a gold ticket and a note. She read it out loud:
Dear Ms Toa,
Please come to the Dressing Room at 1pm and wait to be seated.
I do hope you can come.
Signed, The Mighty Mikaere (Magician)
Her mother hugged Whetū happily. “A front row seat! Of course I can come. I wouldn’t miss it for anything. I’m so proud of you.”
“It’s only for one performance. He hasn’t asked me to be his permanent stage assistant.”
“All the more reason to enjoy this show as much as we possibly can.”
“Someone told me he might be giving up magic altogether,” Whetū blurted. Her mother should be prepared for the worst. “Which means you might not have a job any more, and we might have to leave the farm. If he’s not doing magic, then he can be his own animal keeper. And now the animals have sorted out new ways to make money, he won’t have to go on stage anyway. We’ll have to find somewhere else to live.”
“Who told you all this?”
“Errant.”
Her mother snorted. “I told you that rabbit was trouble. He’s making you worry for nothing, out of pure spite and jealousy. The magician hasn’t said anything to me about giving up magic. And even if he does, it won’t matter to us. We’ll still manage, and we’ll still be together. Okay?”
“Okay,” said Whetū. She felt better, but the thought of losing the magic she had tingling in her toes and fingers also made her feel sad. No wonder Errant had been furious when his magic had vanished.
She finished her sandwich and rinsed her plate. “I’d better go. I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Break a leg,” her mother said. At Whetū’s startled expression she added, “That’s what people say before a stage performance. It’s bad luck to wish you good luck.”
“That’s weird,” said Whetū.
“That’s show business,” said Mum.
As Whetū walked back through the empty field, she saw the bull was standing next to the fence again. He opened his mouth before shutting it firmly and stepping back again.
“Hello,” said Whetū, carefully. “Did you want to tell me something?”
The bull gave a little nod and then quickly shook his head.
“I’m the animal keeper,” Whetū reminded him. “You can tell me anything. I want to help.”
The bull looked around as if checking they weren’t being watched. The horses were rolling on their backs at the far end of their field, and nobody else was in sight.
“Be careful,” he finally said out of the corner of his mouth, in such a hoarse whisper that Whetū could barely hear him.
“What?” she asked.
“At the show. Be careful at the show. It’s not safe.” His gaze flicked to somewhere behind her, and he gave a little snort through flared nostrils.
Turning, Whetū saw Errant slowly loping across the courtyard, disappearing behind the barn. She turned back to the bull, but he was already halfway down the field, heading towards his usual hiding place behind the clumps of flax.
Frowning, she continued towards the magician’s house, wondering what that was all about. It was the first time the bull had spoken to her of his own accord, but what he was saying, Whetū had no idea. The show wasn’t safe? What did he mean?
She pushed the magician’s front door open and ran up the staircase. Her feet tapped out a happy little tune on the stairs, and by the time she reached the first floor where the magician was waiting with a smile, she’d forgotten all about the bull and his mysterious warning.
20
– GETTING READY –
On the day of the show, Whetū woke with butterflies in her tummy that didn’t settle, even after a good breakfast of bacon and eggs and toast. She went straight to the farm after her meal to do the feeds and the mucking out, and found that work calmed her nerves considerably – after all, there’s nothing so grounding as a hefty pile of pig dung.
All the animals told her to break a leg. Even the chicken managed to spell out ALL THE BEST with kernels of corn across the courtyard, before he ate them.
“I only wish I could be there,” sighed Ramses, as Whetū swept up the barn. “But unfortunately everyone would be gazing at me and not the show.”
“It’s a pity,” agreed Whetū, with a hidden smile at the ram’s vanity. “It would be so easy, too. You’d just have to go to the dressing room in the magician’s house and you’d find us easily enough.”
There was a soft scraping sound from the barn door and she looked over, but no one was there. Still, she had the distinct feeling someone was listening.
“I’m a little worried, though,” she continued. “The dress rehearsal was terrible. I forgot my lines, the table didn’t collapse fast enough, and one of the lights fell from the ceiling and squashed the canary.”
“But that’s excellent!” said Ramses. “If the dress rehearsal is bad, the show will be spectacular. Everyone knows that. It’s when the dress rehearsal goes well that you have to worry.”
The door creaked open, and Errant hopped into the barn. “They said you were in here.”
Whetū had expected him to be cold and aloof, maybe even angry, but instead, he looked as jaunty as ever.
His teeth gleamed in a beaming smile. “I do hope you break both legs. And the magician too.”
“Thank you,” said Whetū. Although Errant had spoken the traditional words of good luck like everyone else, he’d said them as if he really did hope her legs got broken. She leaned the broom carefully against the wall. “I’ll be back for the evening feeds, and I’ll tell you all about how it went and what the Queen was wearing and – oh, everything!”
“I’m sure you will be a triumph,” said Ramses, with an arch look at Errant.
“Indeed,” said Errant. “I’m sure it will be a show we’ll never forget!”
Whetū was about to follow Errant out the barn door when Ramses said in a low voice, “That rabbit is up to something. Be very careful, young Whetū!”
First the bull telling her to be careful, and now Ramses! Whetū gave him a smile, but it c
ame out a bit wobbly.
“Thank you, Mr Ramses. I’ll see you this evening.”
“Farewell, animal keeper turned stage assistant.”
As soon as she’d finished at the farm, Whetū went straight to the cottage for something quick to eat, and a wash. Then she ran to the magician’s house. Her nerves had returned in full force, and her stomach was churning, and her palms were wet with sweat by the time she got there. The music tinkled merrily under her feet as she ran up the stairs, but she was distracted, and for once her favourite song did little to transform her mood.
The magician was waiting in the dressing room, which was, as usual, a hive of activity. A group of tap dancers clattered noisily through the stage door, and the magician pulled his fingers out of his ears with an audible “pop!”
“Thank goodness they’ve gone. They were giving me a headache. Hallo, Whetū! The big day has arrived! Are you ready?”
Whetū could barely manage a nod of her head. She had a terrible feeling that if she opened her mouth to speak, she would vomit all over the floor. The magician made a lightning pass with a hand, and a bouquet of red roses appeared. He stuffed them into a vase on her dressing table.
“For you,” he said. “For luck.”
There was a rustle, and a waft of musky perfume floated through the air. Miss Pumbleduff settled at the dressing table next to Whetū’s.
She appraised Whetū’s pale face with a knowing look. “First show nerves, darling? Treasure them. You’ll never feel anything like them ever again.” She picked up a thistledown puff and began to powder her face.
Miss Pumbleduff was right. Whetū was feeling exactly how she was supposed to be feeling. It was all right. Everything was going to be all right. She gave Miss Pumbleduff a grateful smile in the mirror and received a wink in return.
Carefully Whetū laid out the cosmetics she’d been taught to use, and began making up her face. She darkened her eyebrows and outlined her eyes with black kohl. She powdered the shine from her nose and reddened her cheeks and lips. It took longer than she expected. When she finished she slicked her hair back into a tight bun like a ballerina, and looked critically at herself. She thought she looked unnatural, rather like a doll.
