by Liz Marsham
“You see?” announced Amileth. “Love, like magic, will always thrive! Let’s give them a big hand!”
While the audience burst into thunderous applause, Gawayne and the dwarf reached for each other and proceeded to tango dramatically into the wings.
Amileth raised her voice to be heard over the cheering. “And now, while we give the Love’s Breath a minute to wear off, a short intermission!” She bowed deeply as a thick red curtain dropped from the wooden arch to cover the stage.
“Okay,” said Em. “I admit it. I have no idea how she did that!”
“I thought for sure the flower was fake,” Piper said. “But then when it suddenly glowed … hoo!” She shook her head. “That girl is good.”
“Wouldn’t it be weird if the footlights actually worked?” mused Arkayna.
Choko made a skeptical noise, wrinkling his nose.
“No way they work,” Zarya agreed. “No way she invented something that sucks away magic just to put on a show.”
Em nodded in agreement. “It’d be way too powerful for her just to use it like this,” she said. “There’s gotta be something we’re missing.”
The girls continued to debate their theories, but Zarya was distracted by her earlier conversation with Arkayna. Did her sister really judge her for the way she used to make money? Arkayna would have done the same thing in my place, Zarya told herself. We’re different, yeah, but we’re not that different.
She was brought back to the present by Piper excitedly drumming on her arm as Choko hopped up and down in her lap. “It’s starting, it’s starting, it’s starting!” Piper hissed.
The curtain swept up, revealing Amileth standing center stage. To the left of her was a large, deep cabinet, its doors hanging open to reveal a simple wooden chair inside. Behind her, stretching off to the right side of the stage, was a long table, fully set for a banquet. Candles flickered, and food was piled invitingly on serving platters, but there were no chairs.
“For my next series of illusions,” Amileth said, “I’m going to need three more volunteers. And don’t worry! No more magical plants, I promise.”
The crowd laughed, and hands shot into the air. No one was more eager, though, than Zarya, who was squirming around in her seat, trying to get a better look at the cabinet and table over Choko’s large ears.
Amileth’s eyes swept the seats. She pointed at a burly dwarven man, then at an elderly elven woman. Then she raised her eyes to the upper tiers, looking for the final volunteer, and grinned.
“It appears another member of the royal family wants to be part of the show,” she said, waving a hand to where the girls sat. “Come and join me, if you would, Princess.”
Zarya slumped. Of course, she thought, Arkayna would be the one who got chosen. She doesn’t even really care about—
“Hey,” Arkayna said, nudging Zarya. “What’s wrong? Get down there.” When Zarya looked at her, startled, Arkayna laughed. “You thought she meant me, didn’t you? Think again, Princess,” she teased.
Zarya looked down at the stage. Sure enough, Amileth wasn’t beckoning to Arkayna. The illusionist was looking directly at her.
3
In Which Zarya Searches for Secrets and Finds a Flaw
Stepping into the footlights, Zarya didn’t know where to look first. The empty cabinet beckoned invitingly; she was sure she could find a hidden mirror or trapdoor in there. But the table—what was going to happen with the table? Or maybe she should focus on the lights?
“Ah, Princess Zarya,” Amileth said, coming toward Zarya with her hand outstretched. “Such a pleasure to have you on my stage. I hope you left all your magical items with your friends?”
Zarya nodded, pointing to where Choko stood on the railing in front of their seats, waving Zarya’s phone.
Smiling warmly, Amileth shook Zarya’s hand in a firm, friendly grip, then led her to a spot in front of the cabinet where the other volunteers were already waiting. Turning to address the crowd, she continued, “The first thing I will ask my kind volunteers to do tonight is”—she dropped Zarya’s hand, reached into the inside pocket of her jacket, and pulled out a length of black silk cord—“tie me up!”
The dwarven man and elven woman were hesitant, but Zarya immediately reached for the cord. “Let’s do this!” she said.
Amileth quirked an eyebrow, reading the challenge in Zarya’s eyes, then nodded and led Zarya to the chair inside the cabinet. Amileth sat down, threading the rope behind her bent knees. She crossed the rope over itself, then handed the ends to Zarya. Then she placed her wrists, one over the other, across the rope. “Pull as tightly as you like,” instructed Amileth, her voice loud enough to carry to the entire audience. “Then tie the ends around my wrists and knot them, please, Princess. Use any knot you please. The knot is immaterial, because in a few moments … I will also be immaterial! That’s right, watchful viewers, once these cabinet doors are closed, I will demonstrate that the rules of solid matter need not apply to me. I will, without magic, phase through these cords, this chair, and the very cabinet itself!”
As Amileth spoke, Zarya eyed the way the rope was wrapped around the illusionist’s legs, and the way her hands were stacked. She met Amileth’s eyes and smiled again, reaching forward to try to adjust the position of the illusionist’s wrists. In an instant, Amileth’s smile became more fixed, and she held herself firmly in place. Zarya knew she had figured out how the trick worked—the way Amileth had arranged herself and the rope, she would easily be able to twist out of whichever knot Zarya tied without untying it.
But Zarya wasn’t there to mess up the show. Quickly, she tied Amileth’s wrists together in an elaborate, strong knot. “You’re not getting out of this in a hurry,” she told Amileth loudly. Then, with her back to everyone else as she tugged one last time on the cord, Zarya gave the illusionist a private wink. Amileth’s face relaxed, and Zarya heard her breathe a soft, relieved laugh.
As Zarya stepped out of the cabinet, Amileth instructed the other volunteers to come forward and inspect the knot. When both of them had proclaimed it to be tight and sturdy, Amileth asked them to close the cabinet doors, step away, and count to five.
The dwarf swung the doors closed with a solid chunk, cutting off everyone’s view of Amileth. Zarya and the other two volunteers backed toward the lip of the stage, and together the crowd began to count. “One … two … three … f—”
Ka-chunk! The doors swung open, revealing … nothing but the chair and the cord! As the audience gasped, Amileth strolled out from behind the cabinet with her arms held wide. She swept up the cord and held it over her head, displaying that it was still tightly knotted, as everyone cheered and clapped.
For her next trick, with the volunteers still onstage, Amileth made all the dishes on the table levitate. She told a whimsical story about a party of ghosts coming to dine, and the audience was enraptured by both the tale and the trick. All except Zarya, who noticed that whenever Amileth waved one hand in a flashy gesture, the other would steal into her pocket or behind her back.
I bet she’s got that device from earlier up her sleeve, Zarya realized. She started looking around for hidden mechanisms when all other eyes were on Amileth, and soon enough she caught the telltale glint of a hidden, hair-thin wire above one of the candlesticks. She allowed herself a small smirk, proud at having discovered the secret. Then she noticed that Amileth was looking right at her. Zarya gave the illusionist a subtle nod. I’m not going to say anything, Zarya wanted to convey, I just want to know how you’re doing all this.
But Amileth didn’t seem as relieved this time. Zarya noticed, as the elf moved back across the stage to the cabinet, that her patter was a little less fluid, a little more forced.
“For my final illusion,” Amileth said, her eyes darting to Zarya every few seconds, “I will transport one of you brave volunteers into the spirit realm and then back again. I will need to blindfold you, for the spirit realm holds many wonders not meant for our mortal eyes. Which of
you is brave enough to take the journey? You, sir!” She moved toward the dwarf immediately, not giving Zarya any time to respond. “You seem an intrepid sort, would you agree?”
Zarya chuckled quietly. Put like that, who would say no? Sure enough, the man took a deep breath, stepped into the cabinet, and allowed himself to be blindfolded.
As Amileth continued spinning the tale of the mystical, but not magical, journey he was about to take, Zarya’s eyes raked the inside of the cabinet. If the volunteer wasn’t in on the trick, then he wasn’t actually going to move, which meant the cabinet needed to be … There, she saw the secret!
The top of the cabinet was just a bit thicker than the sides, and a faint but unmistakable line ran across the ceiling. It had to be a hinge.
Once the cabinet door was shut, Zarya was betting that an angled mirror would drop down. It would cut the space inside the cabinet in two, sealing the dwarf away, and reflecting the remaining empty part to make the entire cabinet appear empty. The blindfolded man would feel a rush of air from the mirror but would otherwise have no idea what was going on.
Zarya’s gaze dropped to the floor of the cabinet to see if she could tell where the mirror would land. Sure enough, a faint guideline ran diagonally across the wood … and the dwarf’s foot rested right on top of it.
She looked up at Amileth in alarm. But Amileth was so distracted by Zarya, she hadn’t noticed that her volunteer wasn’t fully in place. If the mirror dropped now, his foot would be crushed!
4
In Which There Are Invitations and Consternation
Zarya spoke up quickly. “Opening portals to the spirit realm is no joke,” she said. “You’re sure we’re all safe here?”
Amileth furrowed her brow for a moment, puzzled, then smiled reassuringly. “You’re perfectly safe, Princess,” she replied.
“Okay,” said Zarya, leaning forward a bit and giving the dwarf a significant glance, “so we’re all right where we should be?”
Following Zarya’s glance, Amileth noticed the placement of the man’s foot inside the cabinet. She gave a little gasp, which she quickly turned into a clearing of her throat. “I assure you, Princess,” she said smoothly, “that all will be well.”
Amileth stepped inside the cabinet and turned to the dwarf. “Sir, let me give your blindfold one last adjustment…” After fussing with the blindfold for a moment, she took hold of his shoulders, as if she was adjusting his jacket. While doing so, she pushed him lightly backward, making him shift his feet to keep his balance. “Sorry, sir,” she continued. “Just sprucing you up. We want you to look your best when the spirits see you, don’t we?”
As Amileth backed out of the cabinet, Zarya saw her give the volunteer one last look. His feet were now perfectly in place. She nodded firmly, closed the cabinet doors, and proceeded with the illusion.
When Amileth opened the doors a few seconds later, the cabinet appeared completely empty. Amileth took her bow to the resulting applause, then began spinning a tale of what strange sights awaited the dwarf in the spirit realm should he be foolish enough to remove the blindfold. “And so, for safety and sanity, his brief journey must come to an end,” she concluded. “Now.”
She swung the doors wide again. Colored smoke billowed out of the cabinet and curled across the stage floor, revealing the blindfolded volunteer standing inside. In the standing ovation that followed, Amileth ceremoniously whipped the blindfold from his eyes, led him forward, and had him take a bow. She shook hands with him, then with the elderly woman, and lastly with Zarya. Then, to continued applause, Amileth led the volunteers to the steps and gestured that they should descend into the audience again.
As Zarya passed by Amileth and headed down the stairs, she felt the illusionist’s arm brush her side. “Thank you,” Amileth said under her breath, giving Zarya a last, dazzling smile.
Zarya’s heart was beating fast as she made her way through the exiting crowd. As soon as she knew no one was paying attention, she checked her pockets. In her hoodie, on the side where Amileth had brushed her, was a small piece of parchment. Meet me in an hour, it said, with directions to a small field nearby.
Unable to help herself, she spun back to look at the stage … only it wasn’t a stage anymore. The curtain had dropped, and the whole wooden apparatus seemed to be twisting and folding in on itself. Zarya stepped out of the stream of people and stood on the nearest seat to get a better look.
“Oh yeah,” said a man standing nearby in the same row of seats. “This is just as good as the rest of the show. Don’t know why everyone doesn’t stay to watch; they all think it’s magic, but I’m pretty sure it’s not. Anyway, the whole thing folds up and turns into a truck. Which is also her house. Isn’t that something?”
“Wow,” Zarya breathed, impressed. “Em must be loving this.” She craned her neck around, looking for her friends. Sure enough, Em was standing frozen at her seat, mouth open. Next to her, Piper stood with Choko on her shoulder, both of them mimicking Em’s stunned pose.
Zarya waved and caught Piper’s eye. I’ll come to you, she mouthed. Piper raised a hand in a thumbs-up.
A minute later, Zarya rejoined her friends in their seats. The painted arch that defined the top of the stage had lowered, and the sides had fully collapsed into the deck. Now the whole deck hinged along its length, folding upward behind the arch. One side extruded itself, unfolding into what quickly became recognizable as the cab of a vehicle, and the embroidered curtain along the front of the stage hitched up to reveal large wheels.
Now the four girls gazed at a large wooden trailer with The Amazing Amileth painted along its side. With one final wave, Amileth jumped into the cab and began slowly inching her trailer through the crowd and away from the festival.
“Wasn’t she just fab-tacular?” asked Piper, clapping her hands. “Now, if we hurry, we can get in another round of snacks before the face-painting booths open!”
Choko nodded eagerly and patted his belly, always in favor of a plan that involved snacks.
“Piper, that sounds amazing, but look.” Zarya showed Piper the note. “Choko, can I have my phone back? In this crowd it’s gonna take me almost an hour to get over there, and I don’t want to be late.”
“What? But … but…” Piper trailed off, reading and rereading the note. “You can’t go!”
“Why not?” asked Zarya in surprise.
“Because! Because … she’s tricky!”
“She’s what?” Zarya asked. “You called her fab-tacular, like, ten seconds ago!”
“Well, she is fab-tacular,” Piper retorted, “but she’s also … sneaky! Or … something!”
“Piper,” said Em gently. “Is this maybe not about Amileth? Maybe this is about how you had a plan for all of us to do the festival just like you did last time, and now Zarya’s going off by herself for a bit?”
“No!” Piper said firmly. Then she drooped. “Maybe.” She took Zarya’s phone from Choko and handed it over, peering up at her. “So hurry, okay? You can’t be the only one without face paint. That’d be the worst.”
Zarya grinned. “The worst, huh? Can’t have that. I’ll be back soon, promise.”
Then Arkayna spoke up. “I don’t see why we can’t all visit Amileth.”
Zarya’s stomach tightened. She really wanted to go on her own. She loved her friends and her sister, but right now she just wanted part of the night to feel like … hers. But she couldn’t say that to Arkayna. So instead she said, “Well, I was the only one invited. And she’s supposed to be really secretive, right? So—”
Arkayna frowned. “But if she’s gonna share secrets with you, why can’t we all know them?”
“Arkayna,” said Em in that same gentle tone. “Now that Zarya’s a princess, she’s going to get singled out for special attention sometimes, too. And that’s a good thing. Right?”
Arkayna’s eyes widened. “Of course it is! I didn’t mean … You’re right, Em. Zarya, you should go.”
Zarya chucked E
m on the shoulder. “You’re pretty smart, there.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Em replied. “I would sell my last wrench for a chance to see inside that wagon of hers. I am seething with envy.” She shrugged and smiled, totally relaxed. “But you should still go.”
“Okay. As long as we’re good?” Zarya looked at Em, who nodded. Piper and Choko gave her a quadruple-thumbs-up.
Then Arkayna pulled her into a hug. “We’re always good,” she said. “Have fun.”
* * *
A little while later, Zarya approached Amileth’s trailer. It was as long as the stage had been wide and about half as tall, and light shone from a series of small windows along its top. There was no one in the cab, so Zarya made her way around to the back, listening to the strange humming and chugging noises coming from inside. Where most trucks would have huge roll-up doors, a short collapsible staircase instead led to a small, plain door with a metal handle.
“Hello?” Zarya called, tapping on the door. “Hello?” She knocked more forcefully.
No answer.
She reached down and tried the handle. The door was unlocked. Zarya opened it a crack and stuck her head through … and gasped.
The inside of the trailer didn’t look like the stage. It didn’t look like a house, either. And it didn’t look like any vehicle or storage space Zarya had ever seen. Stacks of crates were piled against the walls, out of which spilled rope, cables, scarves, curtains, pieces of wood and metal, and some things Zarya couldn’t make out. Among the crates, Amileth’s completed tricks were disassembled and stacked; Zarya recognized the pot and table for the Love’s Breath illusion and the dishes for the banquet levitation, half-packed away. One whole corner was devoted to a giant pegboard, on which hung dozens of differently sized wrenches, screwdrivers, hammers, saws, and chisels. Another corner was curtained and lit like a smaller version of Amileth’s stage, and a table with strange metal tubes around it gleamed under the theatrical lights. Workbenches were scattered around the room, and on each one a different project was partially assembled. All of them looked fascinating, and Zarya had no idea what any of them were for.
