Leanora pushed a low-hanging branch out of her way, letting it whip back at Shazad. He caught it just in time.
“What’s wrong with that?” Shazad asked. He snapped the branch off and left it hanging at a broken angle. “Magic survives in secret. There’s a reason my homeland didn’t suffer the same fate as yours. Don’t listen to her about secret magic cities,” he told Joey. “Jorako still stands.”
“For how long?” Leanora asked.
“Forever,” Shazad answered.
“What’s Jorako?” Joey asked.
Shazad struggled with another tightly packed thicket. “My country.”
Leanora snickered. “A country the size of a swimming pool,” she said in a mocking tone. “Shazad’s family lives there. No one else. They have relics that keep it from appearing on any map, and they watch their borders closely—most of the time, anyway.”
“My family keeps its magic safe from the Invisible Hand. That’s all we do. That’s why Houdini’s wand belongs with us, where no one can get it. No one can find Jorako unless we want them to.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something? My people found Jorako once.”
“That was a long time ago,” Shazad stressed. “And we let you find us.”
“My people weren’t the Nomadik back then,” Leanora told Joey, ignoring the second part of Shazad’s comment. “We were refugees out of Freedonya. Just beginning our traveling life.”
“You should have stayed with us,” Shazad told her. “We had a place for you.”
“A place for us to hide.” Leanora shook her head. “It never would have worked. My people couldn’t stay safe behind your walls. We don’t protect magic. We spread magic, traveling throughout the world, sprinkling it here and there, everywhere we go. We do the work the Order of the Majestic should have been doing all these years. That’s why we can’t ever stay in one place. But if we had Houdini’s wand, we could stop running. We could stand and face the Invisible Hand.”
“You’d lose,” Shazad said matter-of-factly. “Just like your people lost Freedonya all those years ago.” He tapped Joey’s shoulder. “The Invisible Hand took everything they had—”
“Not everything,” Leanora interjected.
“And then they erased their city from the history books,” Shazad finished. “Have you ever heard of Freedonya before this? No. Of course you haven’t. It’s as if the place never existed. You try to fight them, the same thing will happen to you.”
“You really think they’re unbeatable?” Joey asked.
“You tell me,” Shazad said. “Redondo had the wand for twenty years and didn’t do a thing with it. How come?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out,” Leanora said, forging ahead.
They walked on in silence, and Joey realized something about Redondo’s deck of fortune-telling cards and what they represented. It was them. The Collector, the Traveler, and the Unknown were Shazad, Leanora, and himself. The same was true of the Shield, the Sword, and the Escape Artist cards. Shazad wanted to protect magic, Leanora wanted to fight, and Joey was looking for a safe way out. He couldn’t pretend that Shazad wasn’t at least a little bit right about him. It was true. Joey was in over his head. He was scared. But it was also true that he had wielded Houdini’s wand, something that should have been impossible, even by a magician’s standards. What did it mean? Joey wondered what he would do with the wand if it somehow ended up in his possession. He honestly didn’t know. He asked himself what the right thing to do was. That path was clearer in his mind. He just wasn’t sure he was strong enough. He had never seen himself as a change-the-world type of person, but he wasn’t alone in that.
“You know something, Shazad?” Joey asked. “You and I have more in common than you might think.”
“How’s that?” Shazad asked, trudging through the forest next to Joey. Leanora was several feet in front of them.
“For one thing, no one’s ever going to accuse you of being an optimist. It’s the same with me. People say I’m negative too.”
“I’m not negative,” Shazad said instantly. “I’m just… realistic.”
“There you go!” Joey laughed. “I told Janelle the exact same thing.”
Shazad furrowed his brow. “Who’s Janelle?”
Joey shook his head. “Never mind, you don’t know her. But you’ve got to admit… ‘realistic’ is a pretty funny thing for a magician to want to be.”
Shazad sighed. They walked the next few seconds in silence. “I never said it was what I wanted. You think I want a world where magic is driven into the shadows?” He shook his head. “I wish things were different. I do. It’s not fair that magic has to be hidden away in places like this, but that’s the reality. That’s the way it’s always been. Even before the Invisible Hand, in Merlin’s age, there were haves and have-nots. Wizards and norms. You and I can’t change that.”
Joey heard himself in Shazad’s rationalization of the status quo. He didn’t like the sound of it. “That’s the kind of thinking that got Krypton blown up.”
Shazad scrunched up his face. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s why nothing ever changes,” Joey clarified. “That stuff you said about ‘the normal world’ before… You’re not wrong. It’s getting worse instead of better, but no one does anything about it. People give up before they try. If I’m being honest, that’s been my attitude lately too, but not today. For whatever reason, in the mirror world, I didn’t give up. Maybe that’s why the wand let me use it. I needed it and it was there. I’m telling you the truth. It worked.”
Shazad still looked skeptical about Joey’s claim to have used Houdini’s wand. “What are you saying? You want to fight the Invisible Hand too? I don’t know what happened over there today, but you got lucky. Very lucky. If you come between them and the wand, they won’t hesitate to kill you.”
Joey made a sour face. He didn’t doubt the truth of Shazad’s words.
“Take my advice. If the Invisible Hand comes after you again, do the smart thing. Run.”
13 Vision Quest
They came upon a clearing in the woods. There was a large cabin home in the center, handcrafted from wood and stone. It was a crooked, irregularly shaped building with a serious lack of right angles, but it seemed sturdy enough. Leanora pulled up at the edge of the forest. “We’re here.”
“This place looks empty,” Joey said.
“No,” Shazad said, pointing to the chimney, which had smoke rising out of it. “Somebody’s in there.”
Leanora gave the door three hard knocks, then waited. They heard movement inside the house. A slow shuffling.
“That’s him,” Leanora said.
A tiny hatch in the center of the door opened inward, and the upper-right-hand quadrant of an old man’s face was visible on the other side, though shrouded in shadow. “Who’s there?” a crotchety voice demanded. He had a thick Russian accent, much thicker than Leanora’s. “What do you want?” Joey put the man’s age at a hundred years old or more.
Leanora removed her goggles. “Kuriev, it’s me. Leanora.”
“Leanora?” the old man repeated, sounding somewhat confused.
“Valkov, Leanora Valkov. You remember.”
Joey thought he saw a flicker of recognition in the eyes behind the door. “Little Lea? No… It can’t be.…”
“Dedushka, please. Let us in. I need to talk to you. We need to talk to you.”
“We?” The old man’s voice turned suspicious. His eyes darted around wildly, scrutinizing Joey and Shazad before settling back on Leanora. The peephole hatch slammed shut without another word from Kuriev.
“Maybe we should have called first?” Joey asked.
“Yes, we’ll text him next time,” Shazad said. “Save ourselves the trip.”
“Is he coming back?” Joey asked, ignoring Shazad’s biting yet valid criticism.
Leanora raised her fist to knock again, but the sound of several locks unlocking and dead bolts being turned told
her to relax. A moment later the door swung open, and the old man spread his arms wide.
“Lea!”
“Kuriev!”
They wrapped each other up in a mighty hug. Kuriev was a squat, grizzled old man with the remnants of white hair shaved close around his ears. He had a face creased heavily with wrinkles, a stubbly beard, gentle eyes, and a warm smile. He wore a threadbare sweater and was overjoyed to see Leanora.
“Come in. Come in! Quickly,” Kuriev said, beckoning everyone to enter. Once they were all in, he pulled the door shut and turned the dials on eight different types of locks. “What are you doing here?” he asked, astonished. “Is something wrong? You are not in any trouble, I hope.…” He reopened the door’s peephole hatch and looked out into the woods, trying to see if anyone had followed them.
“No. It’s nothing like that,” Leanora said, drawing Kuriev away from the door. “I’m sorry to surprise you like this, but—”
“Do not apologize to me. I will not have it,” Kuriev said sternly, cutting her off. “This is a gift! The last time I saw you, you were this tall.” He held his hand down below his waist. “Already you were showing your talents, even then.” He clapped his hands together. “Ha! Come… sit… Tell me, who are your friends?”
Kuriev guided everyone to the living room, a modest space near the front door, lit by candles and a weak fire. He tried to offer Leanora the chair closest to the fireplace, but she deferred, insisting he sit there instead. She introduced Joey and Shazad, and Kuriev shook their hands, welcoming them into his home. “Any friend of Lea’s…,” he said, lowering himself into a chair. Beyond that, he didn’t pay them much mind. He was far more concerned with Leanora.
“How are your parents?” he asked her once she had settled comfortably.
“Very well,” Leanora said with a smile.
“And your grandmother?”
“The same. She sends her love.”
Kuriev’s eyes brightened with hope. “They know you are here? You told them?”
Leanora wavered. “Actually, no.”
Kuriev bunched up his lips. He seemed to shrink an inch while processing the information. “I see. They do not think less of me, I hope. You understand, I am old enough to remember when Freedonya was more than just a place in our hearts.”
“Kuriev,” Leanora pleaded. “You’re too hard on yourself.”
“I don’t have the strength I had as young man. I wish I did.”
“I know that,” Leanora told Kuriev. “We all know that—don’t we?” She looked at Joey and Shazad, who took the hint and hastily added their own reassurances. “It’s not your strong arm we need, Kuriev.” Leanora tapped at her temple. “It’s your strong memory.”
The corners of Kuriev’s mouth turned up in a knowing smile. “Listen to me… going on like a fool,” he said, chiding himself. “You didn’t come to hear an old man’s excuses. You wish to know something. What can I do?”
“Do you remember a magician called Redondo the Magnificent?” Shazad asked, leaning forward.
Kuriev looked at Shazad as if he had just asked him if he spoke Russian. “Of course I remember Redondo. He led the Order of Majestic. Led it well.” Kuriev shifted his jaw a bit, making a face like he had a mouth full of bad borscht. “Until he didn’t.”
“That’s what we want to know about,” Joey said. “Leanora said you might be able to show us what happened to him.”
Kuriev leaned back in his chair, massaging the stubble on his cheeks and chin. “You wish to see?” he asked Leanora.
She nodded. “I want to know. It could be important.”
Kuriev returned Leanora’s nod and rose slowly from his seat. “Wait here.” He left the room briefly, and when he came back he was carrying an antique wooden box. It was a dark walnut-brown color inlaid with light maple and rich cherry wood designs. The box was old and beautiful, and judging from Kuriev’s protective hold on it, heavy with contents rare and delicate. He set the box down gently on a coffee table in the center of the room and looked up at Joey and Shazad without taking his hands off the lid. “I have a rule. I do not open this in front of strangers.”
Leanora touched Kuriev’s shoulder. “It’s all right. We need to do this together.”
The old man gave in immediately. “But you are here with Nomadik royalty, so…”
Leanora made a cutting motion with her hand, signaling for Kuriev to stop talking, but it was too late.
Joey gave her a look. “Royalty?”
Leanora sighed. “We didn’t come here to talk about my family.”
Momentarily forgetting what they did come for, Joey straightened up in his chair and looked at Shazad. “Did you know about this?” Anxious to make up for his gaffe, Kuriev opened the box before Shazad could reply, redirecting everyone’s attention to the crystal ball inside. A glass orb the size of a bowling ball rose from the box and floated in place, rotating slowly at eye level.
“Is that a crystal ball?” Shazad marveled.
“Is not a disco ball.” Kuriev smiled. “Then again…” He gave it a spin and laughed as the ball turned quickly, throwing off spots of light reflected from the fire.
“Can this really show us what happened to Grayson Manchester?” Joey asked, gawking at the mysterious floating sphere.
“If you want to see badly enough,” Kuriev replied. “Like all magic, it depends on the quality of the magician. About Lea, I do not worry. As for the rest of you… we will see.” He went around the room, dousing candles. “Look deep into crystal ball, all of you. Focus your minds on the night of Redondo’s final performance. Twenty years ago in the Majestic Theatre…”
Joey, Leanora, and Shazad huddled close around the crystal ball. Joey stared into the center of the orb, waiting for the magic to begin. A quick glance to the left and right told him the others were doing the same, and he returned his attention to the ball, watching closely and wondering what he’d be able to see inside of it. He expected mystic vapors and blurry images to form inside the crystal ball, but it remained empty. Unblemished and unclouded. Perfectly clear.
“I see nothing,” said Shazad. Beside them the fire began to die.
“Keep looking,” Kuriev instructed as a tiny glow, no bigger than a snowflake, appeared deep in the crystal. “Yes, there it is.”
“There what is?” asked Joey.
“What you came for. Knowledge. Also known as… illumination.” Kuriev touched the crystal ball and an intense light flared up, overtaking the room. It hit with the force of a strobe, blinding Joey momentarily. He shut his eyes instinctively, and when he blinked them clear, he did a double take at what he saw. They were no longer in Kuriev’s living room. They were in the Majestic Theatre, but it was not the theater as they knew it. It was the theater of twenty years ago, in all its former glory. The Majestic, back when it was worthy of its name.
“What the…?” Joey nearly fell over. “We’re here?!!”
Shazad expressed similar sentiments of shock. He wasn’t expecting this either. Kuriev stood behind them with the crystal ball cradled in his arms, a swirl of golden light dancing inside it. “We are not here. We are simply sharing vision of this place. The crystal ball makes the vision more real.”
More real is right, Joey thought. This is what it’s supposed to look like up here. They were onstage, but off to the side, back by the ropes for the curtain. The house was packed to capacity with thunderous applause bouncing off the walls. Joey had never seen the theater like this. The Majestic was an old and cavernous space, big enough to host an audience of three thousand or more. There were at least that many people present that night, most of them down on the main floor. There was more room in the mezzanine, upper balcony, and ritzy private boxes, all of which were occupied. Joey was struck by the vision of the Majestic as it was meant to be. Decorative molding lined the walls with an impossible level of detail, and a gilded proscenium arch sat atop the stage like a crown. Every plush red velvet seat in the theater was filled with a person who was
dressed to the nines.
“This is a very good vision,” Kuriev noted. “Stay here in this moment. Keep your focus. There,” he said, pointing. “On him.”
Joey looked across the stage. Kuriev was, of course, referring to Redondo. He was onstage with them, also in his prime. The magician onstage matched the one in the framed lobby posters and the Mystery Box instruction booklet that had first led Joey to the Majestic. He was dressed sharply in a tuxedo and top hat and stood facing the crowd with supreme confidence, a man thoroughly in his element. Watching him, Joey felt like Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol, whisked back in time by the Ghost of Christmas Past.
“Can they see us?” Joey asked.
“No,” Leanora said. “It’s a vision, remember? We’re not even really here.”
“Quiet. He’s talking!” Shazad said, pointing.
“Ladies and gentlemen, our time together is nearly at an end.” Redondo’s booming voice reached the back wall of the theater, seemingly without the aid of a microphone. “For my final trick, I’ll need a volunteer to join me onstage.” He paused to stroke his pencil-thin mustache. “It has to be someone special. Preferably with a touch of magic in their soul. I don’t suppose anyone here tonight fits that description.…”
Hundreds of hands went up in the audience, most of them attached to small children. They squirmed in their seats, stretching out their arms, trying hard to reach the ceiling. Redondo smiled with effortless charm.
“I’m pleased to find so many of you feeling magical this evening—and I’m not above taking credit for that, either! Is that fair to say? Would it be wrong to suggest I’ve inspired a theater full of future magicians here tonight?” All the kids cheered. Joey took note of the joy in their eyes. It was just like Redondo had said. He was hiding magic in plain sight, doing his best to inspire wonder. There in that moment, every child in the audience wanted to be just like him. No doubt he had been doing the impossible all night long.
Order of the Majestic Page 16
