‘Of course by me!’
Alton thwacked his hand on the table in frustration, so heavily that he caused an intricate display of thumb tips to cascade away from his stand and on to the floor, like a million Tom Thumbs had just met their bloody fate. The Young Magicians leaped out of the way of the torrent.
‘Right, if any of those get lost, you’re paying for them!’ Alton vowed angrily as he scrabbled round their feet to retrieve the items.
‘Oh, cool!’ Alex exclaimed suddenly, which was so unusual – for Alex or in fact for anyone watching one of Alton’s so-called demonstrations – that all activity briefly paused while Alton stared suspiciously up at him from the floor.
Alex was holding up a small tube the size and shape of a lipstick.
‘Glue!’ he said happily. ‘I could really do with some of this for a trick I’m working on.’
Alex had forgotten the first rule of trying to buy something from a dealer, especially when that dealer was called Alton Davenport – don’t show you’re interested. Ever!
‘Now that is a quality product,’ Alton agreed, rising smoothly to his feet like a liquid-metal Terminator. ‘A snip at ten pounds and that includes training.’
Alex’s face fell. He could afford it, just, but had really hoped to spread that amount over a few purchases, not blow it all on … well, glue!
‘Training in how to use glue?’ Sophie demanded, sounding even more incredulous than before. ‘I mean, how is it different to what you get in a stationery shop? Apart from the price?’
‘It’s semi-permanent,’ Alton announced as though that were meant to be a major selling feature.
‘Is that a good thing?’ she asked.
‘Yes, it is,’ Alex murmured sadly.
Jonny couldn’t bear the look on Alex’s face. He moved his mouth close to Alton’s ear.
‘Hey, Alton, I’ll make you a deal,’ he murmured.
‘Hmm …?’ Alton asked, side-eyeing him warily.
‘Sell him the glue at a reasonable price, or we hang around your stall until closing time.’
Wheels almost visibly turned behind Alton’s eyes as he processed the offer. Then he looked into Jonny’s eyes and saw that the tall boy was in total, not to mention deadly, earnest. Meanwhile, Alex was holding out some coins without a lot of hope.
‘I can pay two pou–’ he began.
The coins vanished as quickly as if they had been part of a trick. When Alton wasn’t actually trying to do magic, whenever money was to be swiped, he was pretty damn good.
‘Special discount rate for convention-goers,’ he said. ‘Two pounds, done. Deal?’ he added to Jonny.
Jonny smiled.
‘Deal. C’mon, guys, three laps, remember?’
They were gone before Alton could reconsider. Thankfully, Hugo and Class Act were en route with notes billowing from their suits like a traditional Greek wedding, so Alton would soon get over it.
The Young Magicians spent the next fifty minutes racing round the rest of the room, Jonny keen for them to at least attempt their three-lap target (which was soon to prove a statistical impossibility) and insisting on a rather strict schedule. Or summarized more precisely:
– 2.10 p.m. – Le Slie’s Magic, Paris. Purchases – 0. Encounters with Deanna – 1. Favourite trick – one where a signed card appears inside a tin of baked beans.
– 2.15 p.m. – Impractical Magic. Purchases – 1, made by Alex: a four ace type routine using fifteen gaffed aces and a hell of a lot of sleight of hand. Encounters with Deanna – a thankful 0. Favourite trick – the Seven-Blade Wrist Chopper!
– 2.20 p.m. – Nästan Mirakulös (Almost Miraculous), Stockholm. Purchases – 0. Encounters with Deanna – 9 (wouldn’t go away). Favourite trick – one where a closed fist produces a jet of water – really quite messy. And way too loud.
– 2.25 p.m. – Vanishing Ink. Purchases – 1, made by Jonny: some actual vanishing ink, which he promptly lost. Favourite trick – a small pamphlet on being able to detect whether someone might be lying or telling the truth. Might come in handy one day! (Additional purchase made by Sophie.)
– 2.30 p.m. – Alcatraz Magic Supplies, San Francisco. Purchases – 1, made by Zack: a set of metal lock picks with a mental note attached to get some guidance and basic tuition from Alex. Encounters with Deanna – a dizzying 2, her having caught up with them in the crowd. Favourite trick – the Unbreakable Bottle, but which was currently undemonstrable owing to it being broken.
– 2.35 p.m. – Guy Tornado’s Illusion Design. Purchases – 0. Encounters with Max – 1, who appeared to be haggling over an origami illusion, but was concerned that they didn’t quite have it in his size. Favourite trick – the Amazing Incredible Appearing Gorilla!
– 2.40 p.m. – Magic Trix, Japan. Purchases – 1, made by Zack: a gimmick-free way of performing Pen Through Anything. Favourite trick – a toss-up between the Self-balancing Samurai Sword and the Self-working Self-tying Self-inflating Self-resetting Shoelace. (Does NOT come with English instructions.)
– 2.45 p.m. – Mercury Magier, Berlin. Purchases – 0. Encounters with Hugo – 1, who was trying to pay for his purchases using a variety of contactless credit cards and Bitcoin, having exhausted all of his cash at Davenport’s. Favourite trick – Glitter Cannon From Nowhere.
– 2.50 p.m. – Hilda’s Fancy Dress, Auckland. Purchases – 0. Encounters with Deanna – 1 (although somewhat terrifyingly dressed as a nun). Favourite trick – n/a. Encounters with Hugo – none up close, but across the room they saw him, Salisbury and Charlie staring with shrieks of envy at the knock-off Young Magicians stall (‘Why doesn’t anyone want to sell pirated tat of us?!’) and trying to persuade the stallholder that there should be a range of Class Act merchandise too. She wasn’t having any of it.
– 2.55 p.m. – Le Slie’s Magic (round two). Purchases – 1, made by Sophie who simply had to know how one manages to get a signed card inside a sealed tin of beans. Encounters with Deanna – 0 (thankfully still being caught up inside her nun outfit). Favourite trick – see Sophie’s purchase.
– 3 p.m. – Ye Magick, New York. Purchases – sadly 0, partly because there was no one manning the stand, but also because the ancient poster of Ron and Nancy Spencer was practically priceless. Favourite trick – Ron and Nancy’s deliciously diabolical telepathy act, of course!
‘Bing-bong! Well, it looks like the dealers will all be able to eat for at least another week!’ Eric Diva had hopped up on to a small podium and his voice echoed over the hum of noise in the Dealers’ Hall. ‘Some probably more than others, by the looks of it – isn’t that right, Alton?!’
Like before, the somewhat misjudged comment hung dreadfully in the air. Not that Eric Diva seemed to mind!
‘On saying that, I hope you haven’t spent all your money just yet because it’s now time for the Annual Auction … Once again, please give it up for his eminent grace, the inimitable President Pickle!’
8
3 P.M.
President Pickle strode defiantly into the centre of the Dealers’ Hall and on to a small platform, next to a stand covered in a wispy black cloth that boasted shapes of various and weird proportions beneath it. Zack tried to guess what they all were from the shapes, but it wasn’t easy.
‘Do you think he’s going to do an act?’ he murmured. Jonny held up crossed fingers and shuddered.
He looks a little more sure-footed, at least, thought Alex. Though beneath the pomposity there was arguably still a faint but fearful flickering of the eyes, like the man was still on the lookout for something … or someone, but doing his best to plough on regardless – like the captain of a ship plunging into the dark night, wondering what that big icy-looking thing ahead might be, but what the heck, let’s keep going because what’s the worst that could happen?
Cynthia appeared at his side, still looking a little bleak. The room hushed as President Pickle withdrew his infamous gavel.
‘Well, it’s high time I put this to good use again!�
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He whacked the gavel down on to a wooden block, and a deafening pop rippled through the Dealers’ Hall like a shockwave.
‘I really wish he wouldn’t do that!’ said Jonny, wincing and rubbing his ears. But then, as they’d become only too aware six months ago, banging down his gavel was one of President Pickle’s favourite pastimes. And it would seem, despite his thinned appearance, the man certainly hadn’t lost any power in his right arm.
The echoes died away and Sophie spotted several members surreptitiously pop in a set of earplugs. Now that’s planning ahead! she thought.
‘So, as many of you will have heard by now,’ President Pickle continued, ‘our dear friend and treasurer Bill Dungworth passed away last week.’
The four looked at each other in shock. They’d only ever had quite odd encounters with the decidedly ancient Bill Dungworth previously, and he’d not so much as said a proper hello to them, but he was clearly a part of the Magic Circle furniture.
‘I dread to think how long Bill was a member,’ said President Pickle, scrunching up his face and clearly struggling with the maths – partly because maths was not his forte, but also because the number was so huge! ‘Well, anyway,’ he resumed, ‘it doesn’t really bear thinking about, does it? The same will become of us all one day … I imagine …’
He looked down suddenly, acutely aware that he was standing in the centre of a large room full of people staring up at him. He shot a glance at Cynthia, clearing his throat nervously before standing up straight again.
‘Anyhow, good old Bill only went and donated his entire personal collection of magic props to the society in his last will and testament, and so it seems fitting that we auction them off this afternoon in his memory.’
President Pickle whipped away the wispy black cloth from the stand to reveal a whole host of conspicuous (and mostly rotting) magical items. A few of the nearby members coughed loudly as a cloud of dust heaved into the air. Cynthia dusted down her jacket politely.
‘I don’t think many of these have seen the light of day for a good while,’ said President Pickle, trying to make this sound like a positive. He picked up a wooden duck, the paint peeling away from its body, as though it had some rare tropical disease.
‘So who wants this!’ he exclaimed with a beaming smile. ‘It’s an Educated Duckfn1 for all those at the back. Shall we start at – say – thirty pounds?’
What is it with everything being priced at thirty pounds? thought Jonny in frustration.
Alex looked round the room as everyone, including all of the dealers present – many of whom were selling a reproduction of the same item, with fresh paint too, for way less – just stared straight ahead.
‘Oh, now, come on!’ bellowed President Pickle, who was clearly putting his troubles to one side for a moment and enjoying himself. ‘This is probably a hundred years old. It’s an antique!’
Yes, thought Zack. Doesn’t the man realize that’s precisely why no one wants it?!
‘OK, twenty pounds,’ sighed President Pickle, like this was now a bargain. The Young Magicians looked round the room again as no one so much as raised an eyebrow.
‘Surely not!’ exclaimed President Pickle. ‘A tenner?’ he strained, hardly believing himself. ‘Come on now. It’s even been painted with good old-fashioned lead paint … Oh marvellous, is that a hand?’ Everyone turned to follow his gaze as President Pickle began to raise his gavel excitedly. But no. Much to everyone’s disappointment, it was Alton slicking back his oily hair. He quickly yanked his hand down again before President Pickle could claim to have flogged the entire auction off to him.
President Pickle exhaled loudly, looking desperately disenchanted. ‘Well, I guess we’ll just have to take it home with us,’ he stated sadly, and tossed the heavy duck to his wife, who welcomed it with not-so-welcome arms. ‘I’ll pop thirty pounds in the biscuit tin or whatever at some point when I next get a …’ He tapered off, clearly with no intention of paying such a princely sum for the unwanted, mutilated mallard.
‘OK, on to the next item. Fire from palms! Let’s start the bidding at – shall we say – thirty pounds?’
Jonny let out a loud guffaw.
‘Was that somebody bidding?’ President Pickle queried, scanning the room optimistically at the sound of Jonny’s laugh.
Everyone remained still and silent, especially Jonny, who sucked in his cheeks so hard that his eyes bulged and didn’t so much as blink.
‘No one?’ continued President Pickle. ‘Not one single person wants this old set of fire from palms that used to belong to Bill Dungworth? Oh dear.’
Sophie quietly squeezed Jonny’s hand while nodding towards the stand of items next to Cynthia. This was going to be one long, drawn-out auction! She glanced over the mix of props and paraphernalia on display, in all their varying states of decomposition:
– Bill in lemon … As in a dollar bill, rather than Bill himself – that wouldn’t have been nice for anyone. Asking price – yep, you guessed it – a sweet £30! Not sold.
– Needle through thumb … Asking price: £30. Not sold.
– A painting of John Nevil Maskelyne, presumably painted by Bill himself back in the day, but who clearly didn’t really know what the man looked like. Nor what a human being really looked like, by the appearance of it … Not sold.
– Giant three-card monte set … Not sold and dreadfully creased in all the wrong directions.
– Rice bowls complete with a one-tonne sack of old rice … Not sold and riddled with bacteria.
– Eating Razorblades instructions written by Bill when he was in his teens, with the side note ‘untested’ … Definitely not sold for obvious reasons.
– Himber wallet … Not sold (inexplicably glued shut).
– Ventriloquist’s dummy … Not sold. Paintwork even worse than the Educated Duck’s, and lower jaw and one eye missing.
– Quick-change bag … Not sold, and not so quick any more.
– Dagger chest … Not sold and undoubtedly lethal.
– Card case … Sold! Sorry, NOT sold.
– Chinese linking ring set … Not sold.
And the list went on. The crowd were now starting to grow restless, many still wearing their earplugs and so presumably none the wiser about what was being sold (nothing) and what was being tossed over to Cynthia, who was now getting increasingly worried about where they were going to house all of this mouldy magic kit.
The auction finally drew to its excruciating end as President Pickle held up a moth-eaten copy of a first-edition Abracadabrafn2 magazine, so much in tatters that it could have been a publication about practically anything. He tossed it over to Cynthia – it having been successfully not sold like the rest of the items – and the pages fell apart on their brief flight over, meaning that all Cynthia caught was a thin spine of paper and a couple of rusty staples.
‘Well, thank you, Bill – wherever you may be,’ intoned President Pickle grandly, seemingly forgetting that the auction had just been a complete and utter disaster. ‘Even though your body may have departed this earth, take solace in the fact that your props still live on.’
Jonny brought both hands to his mouth, trying not to laugh.
‘And now to end with a minute’s silence.’ President Pickle slammed down his gavel even harder than the last time – having not had the pleasure of doing so during the entirety of the auction.
Zack, Sophie, Jonny and Alex bowed their heads. Jonny squeezed his eyes closed, desperately hoping he wouldn’t be taken by a fit of the giggles, at least for the next minute, as the room fell silent. As funny as the situation was, Bill had still been a man. A person. Now dead. You had to show some respect for that.
Now his eyes were starting to water – not with tears, just with the pressure he was putting on them. He didn’t want to wipe them in case anyone thought he was actually crying. So he began to blink as fast as he could, trying to clear them.
And that was why Jonny was able to catch the sudden move
ment in the corner of his vision. One tiny little flicker – the first spark of white that marks the start of the avalanche.
Jonny’s eyes flew open. He drew in a breath. His lungs filled. He shaped his mouth to shout the words, but Eric Diva got there first.
‘WATCH OUT!’ he screamed, without even an introductory bing-bong, as a million things seemed to happen at once and the room began to shimmy and shake all around them.
Eric Diva began running full pelt away from Le Slie’s Magic stand, which had begun to lean dangerously on to the stand behind it (Impractical Magic), whose shelves collapsed, sending a host of props flying.
Jonny watched as a pair of oversized dice arced through the air, one landing smack on to another stand (Almost Miraculous), which began to topple and teeter treacherously, while the other landed on Alton’s foot, causing him to step forward involuntarily on to the sea of thumb tips he’d spilled earlier, resulting in him slipping into the stand next to him (Vanishing Ink). The room was now awash with a series of increasingly loud bangs and crunches as stand after stand began to collapse around them, a domino rally of upright box illusions gathering momentum, sending magic equipment flying into the air.
Alex ducked as a dove pan narrowly missed his jaw, emptying its contents of red ribbon like it had just been shot.
A large set of handcuffs from Alcatraz Magic Supplies catapulted past Zack like a set of nunchaku, twisting and spinning aggressively as panic began to spread across the room like wildfire.
Sophie watched in horror as Guy Tornado’s Illusion Design spun into the Young Magicians knock-off table, sending the action figures flying (result!). The wave of destruction was heading right towards them, but they were trapped – everyone was! So intricate and complex was the table layout in the room that without clambering on top of one another there was no way out: all the usual pathways were now full of magic rubble.
Zack turned just as a Zigzag Lady illusion toppled on to a Head Chopper, which in turn hurtled into the Magic Trix, Japan stand, sending the large samurai sword hurtling into the air and right towards where President Pickle was now standing stock-still, frozen with fright, his mouth agape. The sword lurched and almost fell as it passed through an explosive spray of confetti and glitter emanating from Mercury Magier’s stand, which also seemed to rouse several of the costumes from Hilda’s Fancy Dress stand, making them look like they had all come to life all on their own. But an extra-thick cluster of glitter hit it and sent it on its way.
The Young Magicians and the 24-Hour Telepathy Plot Page 10
