Suitcase of Stars

by Pierdomenico Baccalario

  My bedroom looked like a cop’s office from a TV crime show. All the information I had about the Lily family was pinned to the wall. I thought that seeing it all laid out might help me figure out the mysteries from the last few days.

  On one side of a sheet of paper, I wrote “Lily” and tacked it to the wall with a pin. Underneath that, I tacked several more pieces of paper. On each piece of paper, I wrote things I’d seen over the last few days that involved the Lily family in some way. The words were: spider, bicycle, Wizard Slayer, Spirit Powder, talking dead, Self-Propelling Pants, Trip Stick, Memory Remover Dust, and the BBMO (The Big Book of Magical Objects).

  To the right of those words, I tacked the word Unexplained. Beneath that heading, I hung pieces of paper with the following words written on them: store opening, fast-growing trees on the promontory, talking seagull, the ancient castle, Mr. Everett’s list of names, the Dutch guest at the McStay Inn, and riddle in the bottle.

  At the very bottom, I wrote out the riddle from the message in the bottle. Looking at all those words written out, it seemed strange to think that only a week before, I’d been complaining that my life in Applecross was boring.

  As I stared at the wall, I considered all this strange information and looked for some sort of connection. I spent a long time thinking about that message in the bottle as I walked back and forth in my room. Still, nothing jumped out at me. Patches tried and failed to find a place to sit where he could keep an eye on me without getting stepped on.

  Think, Finley, I thought. Just think.

  I went over the riddle again in my mind. Four men and one woman, I thought. They run, she doesn’t. The men get wet, she doesn’t.

  I tried to find a connection between the Self-Propelling Pants that belonged to Aiby’s father and the riddle in the bottle, but that didn’t seem to add up. I just couldn’t figure out what the rest of that story had to do with the color of their clothing.

  So I went over the riddle again. And again. No luck.

  When I’d stopped pacing, I could hear my parents downstairs discussing dinner and local news. It wasn’t anything particularly exciting — one of the Corman sheep had escaped from its enclosure, and Mr. Dogberry had died in his sleep.

  I threw myself onto my bed and buried my head under the pillow. Nothing made any sense. I decided to take a nap in the hopes that a fresh look at things might help me see something I’d missed.

  But before I could even close my eyes, Doug burst into my room. “So, little brother,” he said, leaning down until he was an inch from my nose. “Spit it out. Let’s hear it.”

  I would have gladly told him what he wanted to know just to get him to leave, but I had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Come on in, Doug,” I said sarcastically.

  My brother tilted his head and put a hand on my shoulder. It felt like it was made of rock — just like the rest of Doug.

  “Stop kidding around,” he said. “I know why you’ve been hiding in your room all day.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I said. I glanced over at the wall with my notes pinned to it. “You’re getting brighter every day, brother.”

  Suddenly, Doug stood up from the bed. The rebounding springs in the mattress nearly tossed me onto the floor.

  “Let me guess, then,” he said. “Violet?”

  I stared at him with a blank look on my face.

  “Helena?” he added. “Or maybe Lauren?”

  “Doug, what the heck are you talking about?” I asked.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Come on, Finley,” he said. “Just confess.”

  I sighed. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s see . . . I was absent seventy-one days from school this year, so they failed me. I stole your Victory of the High Seas fishing pole and hid it in a hollow trunk down by the stream. And yes, I’m the one who ate all three of the chocolate chip cookies that were in the kitchen. Anything else you want to know?”

  In a heartbeat, Doug pinned me to the bed with his arms. I’d forgotten how quick he was despite his size. “You little brat!” he growled. “I knew you were the one who stole my fishing pole, but I don’t care about that right now.”

  I could hardly breathe. “Get off me!” I cried. “I’m suffocating!” I tried to kick him off, but it was like moving the anchor of a fishing boat.

  “I don’t care if you suffocate, Viper,” he said. “Either you tell me the name of the new girl in the village, or you’re going to pass out.”

  He knows about Aiby, I realized. How did he find out?

  My brother pushed me even deeper into the mattress. “I saw her at the supermarket,” Doug said. “She was buying up a bunch of bandages and ice packs. Dad asked her if everything was okay, but she just nodded. I got a pretty good look at her, and boy is she cute. How old is she? Do you know? Fourteen? Sixteen? Did she tell you?”

  I tried to speak, but Doug just rambled on. “I know you know,” he said, smirking. “Guess how I know.”

  I opened my eyes wide and shrugged as best I could, hoping he would just tell me. “Because she knew who I was,” Doug explained. “She said to me, ‘You’re Doug, aren’t you?’ And then she said, ‘Finley told me all about you.’”

  I tried to say that wasn’t true, but only managed to squeeze out a few strangled syllables. I hadn’t told her anything about Doug, my mother, or my father. At least, I couldn’t remember telling her anything about them.

  Doug shook me, giving me a chance to breathe. “What did you tell her about me, little brother?” he asked. “Did you tell her that I was the best rugby player in the Highlands? That I’ve got a tryout with Glasgow Warriors in September? Did you tell her all that?”

  He jerked me again with each question. I was understanding less and less about what was going on. I tried to speak, but couldn’t.

  Doug released his grip. “Say that again,” he said, putting his ear to my mouth.

  “Wilma,” I muttered. “Her name is Wilma.”

  Doug’s eyes lit up. “Yes,” he murmured, letting go of me. “Wilma. It’s a perfect name for her.” He looked obscenely happily. “I should’ve guessed.”

  While Doug was strutting around the room, I sat on the bed and rubbed my aching neck. “You’re an animal, Doug,” I said. “You could have strangled me.”

  “Shut up, momma’s boy,” he said. He went over to my notes on the wall and looked them over. “What’s all this junk, Viper?” I started to speak, but he cut me off. “Nevermind, I just realized I don’t care.” He laughed. “Mom says it’s time for dinner.”

  Upon hearing the word dinner, Patches ran downstairs, his tail wagging happily. I staggered up from the bed, still aching and angry.

  Doug was still looking at my note-covered wall. After a moment, he said, “She’s dead.”

  My eyes went wide. “What?” I asked.

  Doug pointed at the riddle written on the wall. “The lady in that riddle,” he said. “She’s dead.”

  I blinked. “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “It’s so obvious, Viper!” Doug said. “Don’t you get it? They’re at a funeral! The woman’s dead. The four men are the pallbearers carrying the casket. They start to run when it starts to rain, but she doesn’t. You know, because she’s dead. Doofus.”

  My jaw dropped. “So she doesn’t get wet,” I said, “because she’s in the casket!”

  Doug formed an imaginary pistol with his finger and pointed it at me. “And they say I’m the dumb one,” he said with a smirk. Then he left my room.

  I glanced at my wall. Doug may have solved the riddle, but now I was even more confused than before.

  Aiby arrived at three in the afternoon the next day. We met on the road from the promontory and walked in silence, heading away from the flour mill toward the small lakes at Calghorn. We reached the oak tree where the skull and sign were, and then we took the path to the left. It brought us directly to my secret place by the stream. I motioned for her to sit down.

  “So this is your secr
et place,” she said.

  “That’s right,” I said.

  She smiled and sat next to a spring of crystal-clear water. “It’s lovely here.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  I wondered if she knew how beautiful she looked just then. She was wearing long, multi-colored pants and a shirt that was made of patches with an asymmetrical hem. She had three different necklaces on, and her socks didn’t match.

  There was an obvious awkwardness between us, so we didn’t say anything for a while. Only Patches seemed comfortable. He went back and forth between us so we’d take turns petting him.

  Aiby realized I wasn’t going to talk first. “Where do you want me to start?” she asked.

  “Let’s start with the flying sword,” I said. Then I quickly added, “Oh, and how is your dad doing?”

  “He has a few scratches, but nothing too serious,” Aiby said. “His pride is wounded more than anything else.”

  I nodded. “It’s not every day you get attacked by a flying sword,” I said. “That is, if what I saw was even real.”

  “Listen, Finley,” Aiby said. “I know I owe you some explanations.”

  “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Aiby said, “it is. But if my dad knew I was talking to you . . .”

  “He won’t hear it from me,” I said.

  Aiby nodded. “Okay,” she said. “But I don’t know where to start.”

  I wasn’t sure what to ask, so I just listened to the sounds around me. I heard a soft rustle in some nearby bushes. The constant buzzing of insects filled the air. Water tumbled through some stones.

  I decided I’d start with a simple question. “What are you?” I asked. “A fairy creature? An alien? Some sort of time traveler?”

  Aiby smiled. “None of the above,” she said, crossing her arms. “I told you that our family business, the Enchanted Emporium, trades in antique goods. That isn’t the whole truth, though.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “The truth is,” she said slowly, “we trade in magical items.”

  “Magical items,” I echoed.

  “That’s right,” Aiby said. “The Enchanted Emporium has always bought, sold, and repaired them along with their related accessories.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, right.”

  “Magical items really do exist,” Aiby insisted. “Today they’re more like collectors’ items, but they do exist! I know you’ve probably only read about them in fairy tales or fantasy fiction, but they’re real.”

  “I don’t read much, Aiby,” I said. “So how do they work?”

  “My father’s magical pants, the dust that I sprinkled in your face to make you forget that you’d seen me in the shop, that little spider that I used to repair your bicycle, and the stick that we used to teleport — they are all magical items. They’ve been studied, researched, and cataloged in the Big Book of Magical Objects. My favorite items are the Seven-League Boots, the Ring of the Nibelung, and Sinbad the Sailor’s Flying Carpet.”

  “And you sell them?” I asked.

  Aiby laughed. “Obviously not all of them,” she said. “There are far too many magical items to keep in one place, but we know about most of them. The BBMO describes them all. Well, the ones we know about, anyway.”

  “Kind of like the Register of Cattle Breeds?” I asked.

  “Something like that, yes,” Aiby said. “I know it seems ridiculous to you, but it’s been our family’s business for over a thousand years.”

  I whistled. “Then I imagine it’s a profitable business.”

  “Not really,” Aiby said. “You see, the truth is that a Lily ancestor of mine opened the first Enchanted Emporium back in 868 in China.”

  “Why China?” I asked.

  “I don’t know — you’d have to ask Dad,” Aiby said. “What I do know is that it was a Lily who first came up with the idea of establishing a shop that sells magical objects. He had invented a magical book, the first ever to have moving letters, almost six hundred years before Gutenberg was born. As I understand it, my ancestor sold the book to the sovereign ruler of the Celestial Empire of China.”

  While Aiby talked, I tried not to look at her so it would be easier to concentrate on what she was saying. But even then, I was fascinated by the musical sound of her voice. I didn’t want to interrupt her, so I didn’t tell her that the book with moving letters reminded me of those shifting words that were on the walls inside the castle. So she just continued her story while I kept my eyes on the ground in front of me.

  “What I’m telling you is a family secret,” Aiby said. “My ancestor opened the first store. After his death, the store passed to his son, and —”

  “Let me guess,” I said. “From heir to heir and so on until your father became the lucky owner.”

  Aiby shook her head. “My dad didn’t want the responsibility of owning the shop,” she said. “He was worried about the trouble that comes with it. You see, magical objects attract all kinds of collectors, but not all of them are good. There are many dark souls who want the objects for selfish or sinister reasons.”

  I had already dreamed up a couple of ways to use the Memory Remover Dust at school, but I figured they’d all fall under selfish or slightly sinister. So I kept my mouth shut.

  “My ancestor chose six different families as successors,” Aiby said. “Then he drew up a system where these six families, and their descendants, would take turns managing the Enchanted Emporium. After six turns, the keys to the shop would return to the first family, and then the cycle would repeat.”

  “So that’s why you returned to Applecross?” I said.

  Aiby sighed. “Because it’s our turn again, yes,” she said.

  “And Reginald was the last Lily family member to run it,” I said.

  Aiby nodded. “You’ve been paying attention,” she said. She scooped up a handful of pebbles and began to toss them into the lake, one by one. “Dad and I left London to come here to find Reginald’s house and open the shop.”

  “How did you know it was your turn?” I asked.

  Aiby shrugged. She tossed another pebble into the water. “One day the keys just arrived at our doorstep,” she said.

  “The keys?” I asked.

  Aiby showed me one of the necklaces that she was wearing around her neck. It was made of gold, and the stem was in the shape of a cricket. “This is one of the keys for the Enchanted Emporium that now belong to the Lily family,” she said. “What would you think if you received a key like this?”

  “That the mailman was nuts,” I said. “Can I see it?”

  Aiby handed it to me. The cricket, still hanging from Aiby’s neck, was warm to the touch. While I turned it over in my hand, I couldn’t focus on anything but the fact that we were only a few inches from each other.

  “How many keys are there?” I asked quietly.

  “Four,” she said softly.

  The key with the scarab beetle stem that had been hanging around her father’s neck popped into my head. “So each one is different?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “Mine is in the shape of a cricket, but there’s also a scorpion, a bee, and a scarab beetle. Four insects. To open the Enchanted Emporium, you need four people.”

  “It must have a pretty complicated lock,” I said.

  Aiby smiled. “In a way,” she said. She began to look for more pebbles.

  “What’s inside the red house?” I asked.

  “Right now it’s just a mess because we’re still doing the inventory,” she said. “The shelves are mostly filled with magical books, ink, and things like that. The Lily family has always specialized in books.”

  “And that Wizard Slayer sword,” I said.

  “Actually, we have three of them,” Aiby said. “Plus a King’s Killer and a Corpse Crusher.”

  “Oh,” I said, unable to imagine what those things might be.

  Aiby grinned, seemingly reading my thoughts. “One was a legen
dary king’s battle-axe,” she said. “And the other bursts into flames in certain situations. We also have the label from a Cloak of Invisibility.”

  “What about the cloak itself?” I asked.

  Aiby shrugged and laughed. “My dad can’t seem to find it,” she said with a smirk. “But he has managed to track down the miniature army of copper soldiers belonging to Ludwig of Bavaria, a dozen magical wands that still have to be cataloged, six magical glass eyes, two skeletons belonging to creatures that never existed, plus about a hundred boxes and packages and parcels of varying shapes and sizes.” Her voice grew fainter as she talked. “As you can imagine, they’re all very old items. Just giving an item a name is a long and complicated process.” She paused for a moment. “Do you remember that day you appeared at the door?”

  “A little,” I said.

  “Do you remember what you saw inside?” she asked.

  “Everything was hazy,” I said. “It was like a fog that clouded my vision.”

  “That’s right,” Aiby said. “Do you remember that you were physically unable to enter?”

  “Yes,” I said, remembering. “Was it a magical force field, or something?”

  Aiby laughed. “No, not at all,” she said. “It was because you weren’t carrying a magical object with you. It’s one of the three rules of the Emporium.”

  “What are the other two rules?”

  “Everything is paid for in gold,” Aiby said, “and payment must come up front.”

  I laughed. “So no credit,” I said. Aiby nodded. The Enchanted Emporium didn’t seem all that different from the village shops in that way. “Are you expecting a lot of customers?”

  Aiby shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  “I mean, are there lots of wizards around?” I asked.

  “You don’t need to be a wizard to buy or sell at the Emporium,” Aiby said. “In fact, Dad says that wizards no longer exist, if they ever did at all. There are only collectors of magical items, or those who just need theirs repaired.”

  “Like what?” I asked. “Replacing a heel, or fixing a buckle?”

  “Yeah, those kinds of things,” she said. “Also, buying the various ingredients for spells, love potions, friendship powders — stuff like that.”