The Red Magician

by Lisa Goldstein

  “Yes,” said the spirit.

  She looked down and saw the walled city of Jerusalem as it was hundreds of years ago. People in many-colored costumes walked quickly through the narrow cobbled streets. Others asked for admittance at the gates, and were passed through. She saw men with fine robes and bright rings on their fingers bring their tribute to the city—elephants, camels, peacocks. Craftsmen called by the king came from all over to design the temple, bringing with them the richest grains of wood in their lands.

  Vörös looked at Kicsi. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I think I remember a time when I would have wanted to see this, but it seems so long ago now.”

  “I don’t know,” said Vörös. “I don’t know what to do with you. There is nothing left to show you.”

  “Nothing,” said the spirit, “save the spirit world.”

  The world changed slightly. Below them she could still see Jerusalem on the hill, but the air was thickening about them. A winged shape, black and covered with scales, flew past them. Another shape, seemingly made of fire, burned across the sky. Something white drifted toward them, and as it came closer Kicsi saw that it was a woman with white staring eyes. Far off she heard something moan in torment. Kicsi understood that she was seeing demons and angels on their own errands. She drew closer to Vörös.

  “Over there,” said the spirit suddenly. Vörös looked to where he was pointing. Quickly Vörös said a word over Kicsi and moved her behind him. A woman flew close to them, a woman with a white face and night-black hair that flew out behind her like a cloak. Her lips were blood red and her teeth were pointed.

  “That was Lilith,” said Vörös. “The childstealer.”

  The sky darkened. Points of light trailed past them—shining eyes or teeth or nails. In the distance a skull flashed against the sky like a comet, and was gone. The lights began to draw closer to them, seeking them, hunting them.

  “Come,” said Vörös. “Quickly.” The night grew darker. There were no stars. To the east Kicsi could see a faint light, and she wondered how the dawn could be coming so soon after nightfall. It was toward the light that Vörös led them.

  The night spirits hurried after them. They called to Vörös, asking him to stop, to turn back. A great silken net loomed up in front of Kicsi, and she broke through it, trailing delicate weblike strands. She shuddered.

  She heard her name, and looked back. The spirits called to her, promising her rest. A child on a silver horse sang to her, telling her of the peace of death. Come with us, they called. Leave your grief with the living and follow us. There is rest here.

  She slowed. Ahead of her she saw Vörös and the spirit flying toward the eastern light, their arms outstretched. Come with me, sang the child, washed in the light of the silver horse. All those you knew are dead. Find rest with me.

  Vörös saw her then. One minute he was far away, nearly lost in the distance, and the next he was by her side, with the spirit beside him. A look of horror was on his face. “Go back!” he said to the spirits. He called to them by their names. “Go back and follow us no more.” He grasped Kicsi by her wrist and pulled her toward the light.

  The night demons slowed, turned away, calling to each other with shrill voices. Then they were gone.

  Vörös stopped. Below them Kicsi saw an angel. His face was made of light and in his hands he held a spiral sword.

  “He is one of the four angels who stand watch over the Garden of Eden,” said Vörös. “The demons cannot abide his light. We are safe as long as we stay here. How are you feeling?”

  “I don’t know,” said Kicsi. “Tired.”

  “Shall we go back?”

  “I don’t care,” said Kicsi.

  Vörös sighed. “Come, then,” he said.

  “You are going into realms where I cannot follow,” said the spirit. “Good-bye.”

  “Good-bye,” said Vörös.

  Below them Kicsi saw the outline of Europe reappear, clouded with smoke. They drifted a while, looking at the people below them. “It was all illusion, you know,” said Vörös. “You were never in any danger.”

  “Oh,” said Kicsi.

  “You do want to die, then,” said Vörös.

  She said nothing.

  “You look tired,” said Vörös. Then suddenly: “Wait,” he said.

  “What is it?” said Kicsi. They had stopped.

  “Nothing,” said Vörös. “I thought I saw—yes, it was him. Over there. Come this way.”

  They fell back to earth slowly, toward an emergency station that had been set up by the Red Cross. No one seemed to notice them. As they came closer Kicsi could see that lists had been posted—the lists of the names of the dead. Standing in front of one of the lists was a man. His gray-black hair was longer, wilder, and his gray eyes were fiercer, but she knew him. It was the rabbi.

  She saw him read his daughter’s name from the lists of the dead. “I will get revenge,” she heard him say. “I will find that traveler—the man who spoke the words of evil omen at my daughter’s wedding—and I will kill him. I will have my revenge.”

  And then she and Vörös were back inside the barracks, on the cot, as though nothing had happened.

  8

  Vörös sat with his head in his hand, looking at the wall, saying nothing. Finally Kicsi said, “He can’t really kill you, can he?”

  Vörös turned to her and laughed. “Why do you say that? Certainly he can.”

  “But—” She remembered another time, long ago, when the rabbi had threatened to kill Vörös. She remembered her fear then, the horrible certainty that Vörös would die. She did not feel afraid now. Perhaps, she thought, too many people had died. Perhaps she would never be afraid of death again. “But he said he would kill you if he saw you in the village.”

  “He said that he would kill me if his daughter was harmed.”

  “Oh. But he can’t really believe—I mean, it wasn’t you that—”

  “No,” said Vörös. “But he thinks it was. His mind has been twisted by the war, and by all the deaths. His village, his congregation, is gone. I’m afraid he sees all his enemies as equals. I am the same as the Germans who killed his daughter, in his eyes.”

  “Oh,” Kicsi said again. “But he can’t really harm you, can he? Last time, when he tried, you escaped, remember? Your magic is stronger than his.”

  “Kicsi,” said Vörös, “let me tell you something. His magic is stronger than mine and always has been. Last time, when I escaped, it was by luck, and with the aid of a friend.” He looked at the far wall again and said nothing for a long time.

  “Well,” said Kicsi, “what will happen now? Are we going to die?”

  “We may,” said Vörös. “I am very weary. I have worked the last three years without stopping. I will need my pack to continue.”

  “Your pack,” said Kicsi. “I have it. I hid it in the walls—”

  “I know,” said Vörös. “I have been back once to find it, but the house was filled with soldiers.”

  “Soldiers? In our house?”

  “Yes. It was then that I knew that you and your family had been taken. I would have come back sooner but I had pressing errands …”

  “Soldiers,” said Kicsi. “In our house. Who lives there now, I wonder?”

  “I would like to find out. If I can get back my pack I might be able to stand against the rabbi. Will you come with me, back to your village? It will be painful for you, I know.”

  “I have nowhere else to go,” said Kicsi. “I may as well come with you. What do we do now? Do you snap your fingers and we return to the village?”

  “Kicsi,” said Vörös. “You have not been listening to me. I have no magic left. We must walk, and ride the trains.”

  “No magic?” said Kicsi. “But—what about the trip we just took? Around the world, and to Jerusalem—”

  “That was illusion. None of it was real. I put on a show for you, to see if you would come alive again. You
did not.” Suddenly Vörös sounded very old. “But illusion will never work against the rabbi. He is too clever for that. So. Do you still want to come with me? I have nothing else to offer you. Very possibly, it will be dangerous.”

  “I will come,” Kicsi said. “I am not afraid of death anymore.”

  She spent the next few days resting and gathering strength. Vörös went into the town several times for food and supplies. Gradually she was able to eat a whole meal, to walk about the camp. Life seemed unreal without the barking of dogs and the roaring of the furnaces. She felt that she had seen beneath the mask of the world, and she could not quite believe in that mask again.

  One day after Vörös came back from the town he said, “It has been eighteen days since I first came to this camp. Eighteen is the number of chai, the Hebrew word for life. It would be good to leave now. Do you think you are ready?”

  “Yes.”

  Vörös looked at her carefully. “Do not be so willing to throw your life away. The rabbi is after us, as I thought. If you see anything at all unusual, I want you to tell me. Can you do that?”

  “Yes,” she said again.

  Vörös shrugged. “All right then,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  They left the camp quickly, without looking back, and began to walk along the road to the train station. The road was hot and dusty and they rested often. Occasionally they passed soldiers on leave or refugees traveling in groups carrying all their possessions between them. No one stopped to look at them, the tall man in the long black coat and the pale young woman in the new town-bought dress and shoes.

  Kicsi thought that none of it could be real—not the people, or the well-kept houses, or the trees and shrubs flowering by the roadside. Sometimes, when she passed a soldier, she marveled that there could be anyone so healthy left in the world. Sometimes she would finger the cloth of her dress, wondering at its newness. She and Vörös did not speak.

  The train station was small and very crowded. Soldiers were allowed on the trains first, and several trains passed before Kicsi and Vörös found spaces. As they climbed on board Vörös said, “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes,” said Kicsi.

  “Why didn’t you say something to me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  They sat down next to a soldier. As the train started, Vörös asked him if he could spare some food. He rummaged in his pack and found some chocolate. “Where are you people going?” the soldier asked. Kicsi looked out the window.

  Vörös gave him the name of Kicsi’s village.

  “I’ve heard of it,” the soldier said, his eyes narrowing in puzzlement. “I talked to someone who was in the fighting there, if it’s the place I’m thinking of. A strange town. Odd things happening there, especially at night.”

  Vörös leaned forward. “What things?” he said.

  “I can’t remember. He was glad to leave—I can remember that.” The soldier looked at Vörös with a new curiosity. “Why do you want to go there?”

  “I left something of mine there,” Vörös said. “Before the war. I’d like to see if it’s still there.”

  “It’d better be something important,” said the soldier. “You wouldn’t catch me going to that town. I still remember the way this fellow looked. And what he said—that the lamps aren’t lit at night. And something about—about wolves.…” He looked at Vörös as if asking him a question.

  Vörös shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said.

  The train stopped nearly an hour later. “Come,” Vörös said to Kicsi. “We change trains here.” He nodded to the soldier as they left the train.

  Another train was pulling out of the station as they descended. A voice over the public address system called out destinations, arrivals, train numbers. Vörös took Kicsi’s hand and led her to a row of benches. “Sit there for a minute,” he said. “I have to see about tickets.”

  She sat on the hard wooden bench and looked around her. The station was not out in the open like the last one, but enclosed inside a large building. Voices and the sounds of trains starting and stopping echoed off the distant walls and ceiling. People walked by her, talking in half a dozen languages, hurrying to catch their trains.

  Vörös came back. “Our train leaves in another hour,” he said. “We won’t have any problems getting on. Everyone wants to go west, and not east.” Suddenly he stopped and stood up.

  “It is them, it is!” Kicsi heard someone say. People were running toward them, hugging Kicsi, holding her as though afraid to let her go. Someone was crying.

  Kicsi stepped back. Tibor and Ilona stood before her. She felt confused. Would the dead start coming to life now? Or was this another illusion? “Hello,” she said slowly.

  “Kicsi!” said Ilona. “Are you all right? How are you? Where have you been?”

  “I—I’m fine,” said Kicsi. She backed away. There were too many people around her; she was not used to talking.

  “Vörös, what’s wrong with her?” said Tibor. “Doesn’t she recognize us?”

  “She recognizes you,” said Vörös. “Come, we’re very hungry. Let’s find some food, and I’ll tell you about it.”

  They made their way to a small market near the station. “We met someone who said he had seen you at the camp after you were liberated,” Ilona said to Kicsi as Vörös picked out fruit, cheese, bread, “so we knew you were still alive. Tibor and I met at a Red Cross station—we had been in the same camp for a while but had never seen each other. We decided we had to find you. We’ve been in the station two days, trying to get to where the man said he saw you. There just aren’t any tickets. We slept on the benches—that’s why our clothes are so dirty.” Ilona had stopped crying. She took a deep breath and went on. “The Red Cross says—they say everyone else died. In the family, I mean. The Red Cross has lists, you know.” She stopped and looked at Kicsi carefully. “Are you all right?”

  They sat down by the station and began to eat. “I’m all right,” said Kicsi. “A little tired.”

  “Did you know someone named Aladár?” said Vörös. “She thinks he is dead.”

  “Ali,” said Ilona. “Yes, he is. We just found out. What—what can we do for her?”

  “I don’t know,” said Vörös, biting into an apple. “What did you have in mind when you searched for her?”

  “We—Tibor and I—we were going to go to a Displaced Persons camp. And then, well, they send people away, to different countries. America, Canada. I don’t know. It sounded good to us. Do you think she would like to come with us?”

  “I don’t know,” said Vörös. “Why not ask her?”

  “Oh—oh, of course,” said Ilona. “I don’t know why—Kicsi, what do you think? Do you think you would like to come with us?”

  “No,” said Kicsi.

  “No?” said Tibor. “But why not? Where are you going?”

  “Back to the village,” said Kicsi. “With Vörös.”

  “Kicsi, that was before you had somewhere else to go,” said Vörös.

  “Back to the village?” said Ilona, interrupting. “But why?”

  “I have to go with Vörös,” said Kicsi. “He has something to do there.”

  “No, you are not coming with me,” said Vörös. “I only took you with me because you had no place else to go. It’s too dangerous. You are going with your family.”

  “No,” said Kicsi. “I am not.”

  “Why—why do you want to go with him?” Ilona asked, but Kicsi did not look up from her food.

  Later Vörös turned to Ilona and said softly, “It will be a very dangerous journey. She thinks she will die if she goes. She does not think it is fair that Aladár should die and she should live. I think she wants to do something heroic, like Aladár.”

  “Oh,” said Ilona. “Well, she’s not going with you. She’s coming with us.”

  “I would hope so,” said Vörös. “But she is very stubborn. If she goes with you she may find some way to kill herself. Perhaps I should take her with
me, as I originally planned. I will try to keep her safe.”

  “If she goes with you,” said Ilona, “then I am coming too.”

  “Ilona,” said Vörös. “You don’t know what you are saying. Someone is trying to kill me. He will kill you too, if you get in his way. And you will only make it more dangerous for me, if you come along. I will be responsible for your safety as well as for Kicsi’s.”

  “We’re the last of the family,” said Ilona. “We’re responsible for each other. And—well—you don’t know what it’s like, being alone, thinking you’re the last one alive of all your family.” Vörös said nothing. “I can’t leave my sister now that I’ve found her. I’m coming along. It’s settled.”

  “What’s settled?” said Tibor.

  “I’m going back to the village with Vörös and Kicsi,” said Ilona. She looked at her sister. Kicsi did not seem to have heard anything.

  “This is crazy!” said Tibor. “You can’t be serious. Vörös said that it would be dangerous, isn’t that right?” Vörös nodded slightly. “This is insane. We are the only ones left of our family and you want to get yourselves killed.”

  “Listen to him, Ilona,” said Vörös. “Please.”

  “And what if something happens to Kicsi when I’m gone?” said Ilona.

  “All right,” said Tibor. “All right. I can’t believe that you would willingly go into danger like this, but I am part of the family too. I’ll have to go with you.”

  “Listen to me, all of you,” said Vörös. His voice was very quiet. “A man is following me. He is trying to kill me. I have to get back to the village without him seeing me. How safe do you think I’d be traveling with a group of young people who seem to think that this whole thing is a family picnic?”

  “But that’s just it,” said Ilona. “He probably thinks you’re traveling alone. He’ll never think to look for you in a group of people.”

  Vörös laughed suddenly. “You know, you might be right. My only hope lies in doing something he would not expect.”

  “Then we can come?” said Ilona.