The Bootlace Magician

by Cassie Beasley

  Every wave hit the barrier harder, stretching it farther, until Micah found himself sitting directly under a sheet of fire that was close enough to touch. He knew the barrier was working because the air in the tent should have been scorchingly hot by now, but it was only a little warmer than it had been at the start of the performance.

  “It won’t last much longer,” the Inventor said suddenly, peering up into the flames. “Would you like Firesleight to stop? Or should we let her finish?”

  Micah didn’t quite understand what she meant. “I’m okay.”

  He regretted saying it a minute later when the barrier shattered.

  Micah had dropped a lightbulb on the kitchen floor once, and the sound was exactly the same. A loud pop that made your stomach flip over inside you. But this was no lightbulb.

  The pop was followed by a roar as the whole world turned to fire.

  Brilliant blue light sprang to life around Micah, and the tent was instantly ten degrees cooler than it had been. The Inventor had a tight grip on his arm, and when he looked at her, he saw her calmly adjusting one of the knobs on her metal cylinder with her free hand. The device was shining with the exact same blue light that surrounded the two of them.

  “A much stronger shield,” she said, by way of explanation. “You’ll stay close?”

  Micah would have liked to superglue himself to the Inventor. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  She let go of his arm.

  The fire died a minute later, and the blue shield pulsed a few times before winking out.

  “Well?” said Firesleight, running toward them eagerly. A few flames still glimmered in her hair. “What do you think?”

  * * *

  Firesleight kept Micah for over an hour after the show. She was convinced that the new routine could use “a little more pizzazz” even though he had assured her it was wonderful except for the near-death experience at the end.

  Finally, she seemed to believe him.

  “Well, all right then!” she said happily. “We’ll work out the shielding issue, and we’ll be ready for the public in no time!”

  The Inventor had explained already that there would have to be multiple magical barriers in place to protect the audience before the show went live. She was going around the tent now, collecting the shielding devices that were hidden under the amphitheater’s benches so that she could take them back to her workshop for repair.

  “People will like it a lot,” Micah said as Firesleight walked him up the stairs toward the exit. “But I think you should probably warn them about how close the flames will look.”

  “We will. We always post warnings for my shows. Some people are pyrophobic. You’d be surprised how many—oh!”

  Firesleight stooped to pick up something on the step in front of them. When she stood, she was frowning down at the knotted length of black and gold cord in her hand.

  “That’s the bracelet I was showing to the Inventor,” Micah said, checking his pockets automatically. “I must have dropped it.”

  He held out his hand for the Lightbender’s bracelet, but Firesleight didn’t notice. She was examining it, her brows drawn together in confusion. “It’s not burned.”

  “I told the knots I wanted them to stay together,” Micah said.

  The bracelet was a little burned, though he didn’t want to upset Firesleight by pointing that out. The strings had been much longer than they were now. It was only the knotted portions that had survived the performance.

  Firesleight looked at him. “And that fireproofs them?”

  “I guess so. I’ve never tried to burn one before, but it does make them unbreakable.”

  She passed him the unfinished bracelet. Micah checked it over. As he’d thought, the strings had burned off just below the last knot he’d tied. No big loss, since this version hadn’t been much better than his last attempt anyway.

  “I didn’t realize your magic worked like that,” Firesleight said. “I thought you only used the knots for holding memories.”

  “Well, they couldn’t hold the memories if they came apart,” Micah explained. “Then they would just be plain old string.”

  He attached the individual elements of each memory to a different loop or twist of the knot. If even part of it came undone, it wouldn’t have worked properly.

  “When I’m tying an important knot, I tell one section of string it has to stay connected to another section. And I do it over and over, and when I’m done, it should all be permanent.”

  “That’s . . . interesting,” said Firesleight. “Does the Lightbender know your knots work like that?”

  “Of course!” said Micah.

  But then he reconsidered. He’d never actually described the process of making a memory knot to his guardian, now that he thought about it. It had always seemed obvious to him. And he couldn’t recall if he’d ever mentioned the permanence of the knots to the Lightbender or not.

  “Well, maybe he knows,” he corrected himself, looking down at the bracelet. “Why does it matter?”

  “It’s unexpected,” said Firesleight, shrugging. “I was thinking of you as a magician who had a unique way of sharing his memories with other people. It’s hard to figure out what that has to do with turning regular string fireproof.”

  “It’s not the string,” Micah said patiently. “It’s the knots. If I untied them, you could burn these cords just like anything else.”

  “I see,” said Firesleight. But she looked doubtful. “Just remember to pay attention to your magic. You’re getting to know your own power, and the little details of how it works can turn out to be much more important than you think. Sometimes, your magic surprises you. Sometimes, those surprises get you into trouble.”

  READY

  After supper that evening, Micah decided to visit the menagerie.

  He had to let Terp know that, for now at least, her case was closed. He’d run out of leads, and Firesleight’s warning about his magic had reminded him that he’d been neglecting his practice over the past few days.

  It’s not like Terp was worried about it in the first place, he thought as he grabbed a pear tart off a tray on his way out of the dining tent. He was trying to ease his sense of failure, but it was still true. All Terp really worried about was whether or not she would get to play games when she’d finished cleaning her food bucket.

  Outside, the temperature was just right, and the sky sparkled overhead like someone had tipped over a pail full of diamonds. The circus was fifty miles south of the nearest city, Manaus, so there wasn’t much light to compete with the stars.

  Micah wasn’t surprised to see that the crowd was bigger than usual on such a beautiful, clear night, nor to see that the menagerie was especially busy when he arrived. But he was startled to see Terpsichore out of her paddock and prancing around the tent like she owned the whole circus.

  Normally during outings, she stood with one of the Strongmen holding her lead rope while kids pet her and asked questions about her. Apparently, she’d decided to spice things up tonight by starting a game of follow-the-leader. She capered around the tent while a Strongman jogged alongside her. Slower animals scattered out of their way, and a line of more than a dozen children trailed behind them, mimicking the honks and whistles Terp made as she ran.

  Micah lifted his hand, intending to call out to the foal, but then he thought better of it. She was having fun, and he might distract her. Instead, he watched for a moment, feeling proud of how healthy Terp looked. Her aqua tail flicked happily, and she wasn’t tiring out, even though the kids chasing her were starting to sound a little out of breath when they honked.

  Micah stood quietly while Terp and her followers passed by, then he headed toward the aquarium. His barrel was in its usual position, and he climbed on top of it. “Hello, Fish.”

  Fish thwapped the glass with his tail. He did it every time Mi
cah greeted him now, which made Micah certain he’d understood at least part of the story contained within the knot he’d eaten.

  Micah had been thinking that he ought to ask Mr. Head if he could tie something else for Fish. Maybe a small knot every now and then that held a few memories about the day.

  Most of the other animals took trips out of the menagerie. Some had scheduled appearances around the circus, and others went for an explore whenever the mood struck them. But Fish was always in his tank. It only seemed right that he should get to know what was going on around the circus, too.

  “Would you like to eat another one of my knots?” Micah asked.

  Fish bumped his nose into the glass.

  “Well, all right, then,” said Micah. “I’ll ask the manager.”

  He talked for a few minutes while Fish swam in circles. He told him about Jenny, whose visit was only a couple of days away, and about his trouble coming up with ideas for how to improve his magic.

  “I need to get better if I’m ever going to keep up with the others. Did you know Rosebud’s got a potion that will eat through solid rock? I almost knocked it off a shelf yesterday, and she told me about it. And me . . . well, I’ve been trying to figure out how to do something new, but the memory knots are the only things that really work.”

  He’d tried to tie a knot that would turn invisible last week, and all he’d ended up with was hand cramps.

  “I guess you can’t help with that, right?” Micah said. “I mean . . . you’re your own kind of Idea, and your Someone is out there somewhere. You probably don’t have any answers for me?”

  Fish’s shadow passed over him as he swam by. Micah didn’t have any sudden flashes of inspiration. He sighed. “That’s okay.”

  He turned his back to the aquarium and sat, digging around in his pockets until he found a piece of yellow string. He didn’t feel up to starting a brand-new bracelet. Instead, he thought about what Firesleight had said. It was important to pay attention to the little things about your magic.

  So, Micah tied a regular knot. Easy as blinking. Then, he told it not to come undone.

  He felt a prickle of magic at the tips of his fingers. He knew the knot would be permanent now. He could sense it, just like he could sense the permanence of the knots in his bootlace bracelet.

  He ran his fingers over the bootlace’s rough leather, checking. One knot to represent Jenny. One for Grandpa Ephraim. Both chock-full of magic and memories and tied tighter than tight.

  He tied another knot in the yellow string. Then another. He made them both permanent, trying to pay close attention to how the magic worked.

  It was almost like magnetizing the string, he decided. Or gluing it. He told the fibers on one part of the string that they needed to stick tight to the fibers on another part. Once his magic had connected them, they wouldn’t let go.

  “I don’t know, Fish,” he said. “I don’t see how this is going to help me figure anything out.”

  Micah looked around the menagerie and realized he’d missed Terpsichore heading back to her paddock. The kids who’d been chasing her were all red-faced and panting. He was about to get up to go tell her good night, when he noticed something strange.

  Fish’s shadow was behind him again, blocking the light, and it wasn’t moving.

  Micah glanced over his shoulder. Fish had stopped swimming.

  “Are you watching me?” Micah asked.

  Fish didn’t do anything to show he’d heard the question. But a minute later, he shivered all over, like an electric jolt had run through his body, and he suddenly grew bigger.

  Micah stood up on the barrel and stared into the tank. He looked from Fish’s blunt silver nose to the sharp triangle of his tail. He was longer than he had been by at least a couple of feet. Micah was sure of it.

  “What the heck?” Micah whispered. “Fish, what are you doing?”

  “It’s gettin’ ready,” said a voice behind him.

  Startled, Micah wobbled sideways on the barrel, and a hand reached out for his elbow to steady him.

  Micah looked down to see Circus Mirandus’s ticket taker. Geoffrey was wearing his tailcoat, as usual, and he was carrying a stack of umbrella hats under one arm. He let go of Micah’s elbow and peered at Fish through his golden monocle.

  “It was a tiny little thing for decades,” said Geoffrey. “It’s done most of this growin’ in the past couple of years.”

  “To get ready for the Moment?” Micah said. “Is that how we know it’s going to be soon?”

  Geoffrey switched his monocle to the other eye. “It’s what you do, isn’t it?” he said gruffly. “You realize somethin’ big needs doin’, so you try to make sure you’re up to the task.”

  “That makes sense,” said Micah. “But how do you know that’s what Fish is doing?”

  “I always make sense,” said Geoffrey. “And I know because the fish and I speak the same language.”

  Micah squinted at the ticket taker. Geoffrey did not always make sense, and sometimes he had a weird sense of humor.

  “Fish doesn’t talk,” he said suspiciously.

  “Oho!” said Geoffrey. “An expert on big Ideas, are we?”

  Micah climbed down from the barrel, shaking his head. “What does Fish say, then?”

  “Who knows?”

  “Geoffrey.”

  The ticket taker slapped one of the baseball caps sideways on top of Micah’s head. “Storm’s comin’,” he said.

  “Again?”

  While Geoffrey stomped around the menagerie, passing out hats, Micah looked up at Fish and thought about what the ticket taker had said.

  When something big needed doing, you had to try to get ready for it. Micah didn’t know how to help Terp right now, and he didn’t know exactly when Fish’s Moment would arrive, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t prepare himself.

  I’ll practice my magic more than ever, he thought. I’ll do what Firesleight said and pay attention to the details even if it seems boring. I’ll be ready.

  Not long after that, he said good-bye to Fish and left the menagerie. As soon as he stepped outside, he saw that Geoffrey had been right about the storm. The stars he had admired earlier were gone, swallowed by black clouds, and wind howled around the tents.

  The twinkling lights that hovered over the circus at night were flickering, and not far away, he saw Rosebud leading the plump yellow ponies that normally pulled her wagon toward the safety and comfort of the menagerie.

  Micah gripped the bill of his ball cap tightly and bent his head against the wind.

  “I don’t like the look of this weather!” Rosebud called to him, her booming voice carrying over the howl. “Best get yourself home for the night!”

  Halfway back to the Lightbender’s tent, Micah met Bowler, who was clutching his own hat to his head. The Strongman walked beside him, serving as a windbreak. As they reached the safety of the black-and-gold tent, the first raindrops began to fall.

  “Just in time!” said Bowler.

  “Is it normal for storms to pop up this fast?” Micah asked, taking his hat off. “It was clear a little while ago.”

  “It was,” Bowler agreed. He had a thoughtful look on his face. “We’ve made this stop before a couple of times, and we’ve never had quite this much rain. It’s supposed to be the driest month of the year.”

  Then he laughed. “Of course, it is called the rain forest for a reason.”

  Even as he said it, rain started to blow sideways through the open tent flap.

  TUTTLE KNOTS

  The Door opened into sunlight.

  Micah hovered on the threshold, in awe of Porter’s magic. A neatly trimmed suburban yard lay before him, with daylilies blooming and a garden hose snaking across the grass. A bird chortled in the hedges, and though the street was out of sight, Micah could hear what sounded like a
garbage truck growling past.

  Peal was thousands of miles, and only a single step, away.

  At Micah’s back, Porter’s warehouse was dim and quiet. The massive tent held doors stacked in piles that went almost to the ceiling. Porter had mailbox doors and barn doors, cemetery gates and attic hatches. And one narrow shed door with a scuff on the bottom that led to Micah’s old neighborhood.

  Micah had arrived at the warehouse half an hour before he was supposed to, wearing an umbrella hat on his head and his new magician’s kit on his back. Inspired by the Inventor’s tool belt, he had taken his old school backpack and decorated the straps and zipper pulls with teal yarn. Then he’d stuffed it full of his knot projects and tying supplies. It was part of his plan to make sure he was ready for anything.

  “Looks good,” Porter said, eyeing the backpack. The magician was already at work matching the shed door to one of the empty frames that stood in the center of the warehouse. The frames were arranged in a circle that reminded Micah of Stonehenge.

  “And that looks even better,” Porter added, nodding toward the tray Micah had brought from the kitchen. It held a mug of black coffee and a plate of the steamed buns that Yuri said were Porter’s favorite breakfast. “Didn’t expect the food, but thank you.”

  “I know it’s a lot of trouble to open a Door just for me.”

  “It’s not,” said Porter. “It’s a long way to send you, but I won’t have to hold it open for long. And we’re not even using a full-size Door.”

  Porter’s magic was easiest when the Doors he opened were small or the distances were short. It was no big deal for him to send Chintzy out on deliveries all over the planet, since the parrot could squeeze herself through mailboxes and cat flaps. And the Doors that brought children to the circus were almost always local, covering distances of no more than a hundred or so miles; the magician could hold those open for ages. But opening the big gates the circus used on moving days always took a lot out of him.