He clapped too, though, for a different reason. Pimawa smiled and offered some polite applause as well.
“Thank you, thank you! Much too kind,” said Neil, taking several more bows. He winked at Alex. “Young man, what did you think?”
“It was amazing,” said Alex. He meant it. “How did you hide the strings? How did you make that blue smoke? Can I go under the stage?”
“You are made of questions, my boy,” said Neil, tapping Alex on the forehead. “However, we still owe you a ride to town. Gertie’s ready, and we’d best be off before it gets too late. Everyone aboard!”
Emma sniffed as she settled down in a corner of the carriage, with Pimawa beside her. The place smelled of cranberries and old newspapers. It was crammed with television boxes, toaster ovens, microwaves, and laptops.
It was also rocking very gently as Gertie pranced ahead, pulling them through the mists. Neither Clive nor Neil seemed to be driving—maybe Gertie just knew her own way.
Clive and Alex sat on the cushioned seat across from Emma and Pimawa.
“Clive! Put some tea on,” barked Neil from somewhere behind Emma. “Horrible host, that one.”
“What do they need all this stuff for?” Emma whispered to Pimawa as Clive pulled a teapot from under his seat, got to his feet, and removed several teacups from inside a top hat.
“They don’t,” said Pimawa. “They smuggle it in from the Flatworld. Do not touch anything.”
“Flatworld?” asked Emma.
“Yes!” Neil popped up suddenly close behind them, making Emma gasp and jump. “The Flatworld. The world that persecuted magicians for eons and now no longer believes in magic. Flatworlders do so love our exotic goods, though.” Neil gestured at the stacked boxes. “Three woofle seeds and a dancing cane got us all of this.”
“You don’t have TVs in the Conjurian?” asked Emma.
“We do now.” Neil slapped one of the boxes.
“Why do you have to sneak them in?” Emma reached for a jar full of bright green goo.
Pimawa swatted her hand. “Don’t touch that!”
Neil sighed heavily. “Our dear Master Agglar banned it all.”
“Agglar? You mean, like, Christopher Agglar?” Alex asked. He turned toward them, holding a small cage. Something invisible inside squeaked, battering wildly against the thin bars.
“For Dedi’s sake, stop touching stuff!” Pimawa snatched the cage and thrust it toward Neil.
“Of course. It is Master Agglar who heads the Circle, and the Circle, of course, rules us all.” Neil eyed Alex with a calculating curiosity. “It’s odd that you do not know something that every child in the Conjurian knows.”
“Why would he ban toaster ovens?” asked Emma.
“That is something you should ask Master Agglar. Will you be paying a call on him when you reach Conjurian City?” asked Neil, his eyes bright and inquisitive.
“Excellent idea,” said Pimawa, without answering. “Let us save all questions until we get to Conjurian City.”
A silence stretched out, making Emma’s toes twitch. Surely Pimawa didn’t expect that nobody would say a word until they got wherever they were going. She squirmed in her seat and spotted something tacked up to the wall of the carriage. “A map!” she said with a little more excitement than she meant to show. Pimawa wouldn’t mind her looking at a map. Right?
Alex also seemed intrigued. He came over to peer at the piece of parchment with Emma. “Looks like the coast of Maine,” he said. “How come so much of it is unlabeled?”
“Ah, I didn’t think you’d be able to resist more questions,” said Neil with a smirk. He handed Emma a cup of tea. “Much of it is unexplored.”
“But you said in that puppet show that this world was created thousands of years ago,” Alex said. “No one’s gone poking around?”
“Oh, they have,” said Neil. “A lot of them don’t come back.”
Pimawa’s ears twitched, and he bent closer to the map. Emma had to edge back out of the way. “These markings,” he said. “Are they all forbidden gateways?”
“Like the one you snuck through?” Neil stuck another pin in the map.
“Great, we’re trespassers,” muttered Alex.
“Far from it,” said Pimawa. He eyed Neil sternly. “We entered the Conjurian out of dire necessity.” Pimawa pointed to a spot that marked the Tower of Dedi. “Here. This is the only official entrance into our world.”
“Unless you are one of the privileged few who have their own personal gateway,” said Neil. “Takes a lot of magic to make one. More than most people have nowadays. How did you come by yours?”
“Children.” Pimawa shooed both Emma and Alex away from the map. “I suggest you rest on the journey to the city. Is there somewhere they could—”
Behind Pimawa, Clive had placed three beanbag chairs, price tags still attached.
Emma would have liked to study the map longer. She would have liked to learn more about this world, about the Circle, about the Shadow Conjurer and the Eye he was supposed to be searching for. Most of all, she’d have liked to ask Pimawa why he seemed to be so determined to mistrust Neil and Clive. The Grubians had saved them from the snake creature, the bandiloc, hadn’t they? And they seemed nice enough.
But it was clear that Pimawa didn’t want them to talk to the two brothers. And Uncle Mordo had told them to follow Pimawa. Emma handed Clive her empty teacup and slumped onto a beanbag with a sigh. Alex, after failing to contain a yawn, dropped into the chair next to Emma’s.
But when Clive attempted to guide Pimawa to the last beanbag, Pimawa didn’t budge.
“No thank you. I shall remain standing.” Pimawa flashed a stern look at the tall man. “And awake.”
“Well, then,” said Neil, pressing a bundle of folded cloth to Pimawa’s chest. “At least have the decency to put some clothes on.”
Begrudgingly, Pimawa thanked them. He sniffed the pile of clothing cautiously.
“Don’t thank me,” Neil said with a smile that was too wide to be friendly. “You have no idea where I got them.”
* * *
—
Shouts and bells woke Emma from her slumber. Fighting pins and needles, she struggled out of the beanbag chair and stuck her head out one of the carriage’s round windows, squinting against the rays of morning sun.
The carriage had stopped, since the road was jammed with every kind of vehicle Emma could imagine. Some of them she was pretty sure she couldn’t have imagined. Steam-powered bicycles idled next to antique cars that had mechanical legs instead of wheels. Carts pulled by metal ostriches or giraffes jockeyed for positions with rickshaws dragged by unicyclists. The sidewalk overflowed with a stream of people wearing top hats, turbans, quilted robes, ball gowns, and ponchos. Emma even spotted a few men in tuxedos.
She couldn’t help grinning. She’d read more books than she could count, all of them full of scenes like this. And even if some horrible guy called the Shadow Conjurer was after her and her brother, even if her uncle was…Emma didn’t finish the thought. She didn’t really want to think about what her uncle was.
Even if all that was true, what she was seeing was still amazing.
“Alex, get up.” She nudged her brother with a toe. “You’re going to want to see this!”
After several mumbled protests and a foot in the ribs, Alex joined her at the window.
“A bakery!” Emma pointed at a shop window with shelves of brightly colored pastries. “Let’s go check it out while we’re stopped.”
“Absolutely not! Get away from the window right now!” Pimawa, who had been crouched on his own beanbag, bounced up and put a paw on Emma’s shoulder and one on Alex’s. But he didn’t pull them away from the window. Instead he stood looking, just as they were. Slowly, his ears drooped until they were dangling down his back.
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“How long have you been away?” asked Emma, a little shyly. It was funny to think of Pimawa—her pet rabbit—having had a life here, in this city, long before she’d known him.
“Too long,” said Pimawa, still staring.
“Must be good to be home again,” Emma suggested.
“It would be, if it were the same home I’d left.”
What on earth did Pimawa mean by that? Emma longed to ask, but before she could, an eager voice rang out. “Master Fornesworth!” someone called from outside the window. Emma saw three young rabbits—Jimjarians, she assumed—scuttling toward the carriage.
“Master Fornesworth, sir,” the first one repeated. He lifted his bowler hat politely. “Is that you?”
“Pimawa Fornesworth, assistant to Mordo the Mystifier!” said the second. He poked the third in the ribs. “Told you it was him!”
“You said he was dead,” the third quipped.
“I did not!” said the second. “I said he was still in the Flatworld.”
“Sir, it is an honor to meet you!” the first of the Jimjarians offered, bowing slightly. “I am Rofflo Penwedge, and these two, well—ignore them.”
“Is Master Mordo inside?” asked the third.
“Don’t be rude,” said Rofflo as he pulled himself to the window. “Between me and you, Master Fornesworth, these two don’t stand a chance at the Choosing ceremony.”
“Away,” said Pimawa. “The three of you!” He swatted at Rofflo’s furry paws.
Rofflo dodged Pimawa and stuck his face through the window a second time. “Sir,” he asked, “is it true? The Shadow Conjurer took out two members of the Circle? It’s in all the papers.” His whiskers quivered nervously. “Will he come…here next? To Conjurian City? Master Agglar will protect us, I’m sure. Of course. But—”
Pimawa slammed the window shut, very nearly slicing off Rofflo’s fingers in the process. “No magician in their right mind would ever select the likes of those three ruffians,” he muttered.
“What’s the Choosing?” asked Alex. He tried sidestepping Pimawa for another peek out the window.
“It is the most important moment in a Jimjarian’s life.” Pimawa blocked him. “I trained hard for my ceremony. I was tremendously proud to be chosen by your uncle. I certainly wasn’t running amok through the city harassing respectable citizens.”
“Well, well, well.” Emma turned away from the window at the sound of Neil’s voice. Alex and Pimawa looked around too. The smaller Grubian smiled up at them from one of the beanbags. “I had no idea we were transporting such an esteemed passenger. Pimawa Fornesworth. Jimjarian to Mordo the Mystifier. Do tell. Did that mysterious Shadow Conjurer wipe out our precious Circle? Or is that just the tale you’ve been instructed to spread?”
Emma was beginning to feel that she did not like Neil at all—even if he had saved her from being eaten by a bandiloc. “It’s not a tale,” she said firmly. “We saw the Shadow Conjurer. Pimawa saved us from him.”
“How delightfully fortuitous,” Neil said thoughtfully. “The Shadow Conjurer strikes, and everyone runs to Master Agglar for protection.”
“I do not appreciate your insinuations,” said Pimawa. “We’ll thank you to finish your end of our deal, and that will be the last we need to see of each other.”
“I wish for nothing else myself,” said Neil. “However, the city is in a bit of a hubbub this morning.” He whipped a rolled-up newspaper from his back pocket and snapped it open with a flourish. Emma leaned forward to read over his shoulder. Pimawa did the same.
“It’s not looking good, people. The streets are clogged worse than a constipated elephant. Not to mention all the Tower guards roaming about like cockroaches,” said Neil. “It seems that people are a trifle…unsettled. They do get ever so jumpy when they hear any mention of the Shadow Conjurer. My, but they do. And we have not quite…tidied up our carriage for an inspection. So we cannot bring you to the Tower. However, we shall take you someplace much safer.”
Emma didn’t exactly like the sound of that. Much safer for herself and Alex and Pimawa? Or for Neil and Clive?
“You are aware of the danger facing these children!” said Pimawa, pointing at the newspaper. “You must deliver them safely to Master Agglar. He is the only one who can protect them!”
“No can do.” Neil rolled up the newspaper again and swatted at a fly buzzing over his head.
“Then, good sir, we thank you for your services and shall take our leave right here.” Pimawa straightened his newly acquired jacket. “Master Alex, Miss Emma. Come.”
Pimawa didn’t seem to notice the smile that spread across Neil’s face as he said those two names. But Emma did. She stayed close to Pimawa as he flung the carriage door open. He hopped onto the packed street.
Halfway down the steps, Emma felt a twinge of doubt. Neil and Clive had saved her and Alex, after all. And gotten them to the city as well. She paused to look back and smile. “Thank you.”
Her smile faded as she saw Alex standing at the top of the stairs, next to Neil, with a look on his face that she recognized all too well.
“Wait,” Alex called to Pimawa. “We shouldn’t go to the Tower.”
“Wisdom from the mouth of a babe!” Neil laid his arm across Alex’s shoulders. “I assure you, we can bring you somewhere safe. Somewhere Agglar can’t get his arthritic hands on you.”
“Come out this instant!” Pimawa ordered Alex.
“No. I don’t trust Agglar,” said Alex. His jaw was set stubbornly. Emma hesitated on the steps. Should she join Pimawa on the streets? Go back up and argue with Alex? But it was no use arguing with him when his face looked like that. She knew that all too well.
“You trust him?” Pimawa jabbed a finger toward Neil.
“I don’t know who to trust. Not yet,” said Alex. “Derren will know. We need to find him.”
Pimawa shook his head in exasperation. “You should trust your uncle,” the rabbit said. “He gave you into my care and told me to take you to the Tower.”
“Yeah, we tried trusting Uncle Mordo,” said Alex. “Look where that got us.”
“Alex!” Emma, still halfway down the stairs, couldn’t stay quiet. “Uncle Mordo died to save us!”
Alex looked embarrassed. “Okay, I know, Em, but still—”
“He’s right over there!” called out a high, shrill voice. The three young Jimjarians who’d come to the carriage window earlier were talking to a cluster of guards in gray uniforms. They pointed at Pimawa.
“Alex, come on!” Emma hissed. She jumped down the remaining stairs to Pimawa’s side just as the guards reached them. A stocky man, the only one of the group with a red band on his hat, stepped forward, smacking a baton against his palm. “Alex and Emma Maskelyne, you are coming with us.”
Neil’s eyes flashed and his arm tightened around Alex. “Quickly, back inside.”
But Clive, leaning out the window, caught his brother’s eye and nodded toward Gertie. Two guards had stepped up to her, and one had pried open her chest plate. Blue sparks shot out as he yanked wires loose from the glowing blue tube that powered her engine.
It was clear to Emma that the carriage wasn’t going anywhere. She looked anxiously up at Pimawa. Who were these men? Should they go with them? Did they have a choice?
“Good morning, sir.” Pimawa bowed to the guard with the red-banded hat. “I’m Master Pimawa Fornesworth, assistant to Mordo the Mystifier. And to whom do I have the pleasure of—”
“I’m Sergeant Miller,” the man interrupted him. “And you and the children are now under the protection of the Circle.” He snapped his fingers. Two of his men grabbed Pimawa, lifting him off the ground. At the same time, Emma felt powerful hands take hold of her arms and hoist her into the air.
“Hey!” Emma shouted. “That hurts! Stop!” She kicked, but her feet t
ouched nothing.
“Don’t touch her!” Alex yelled. He twisted out from under Neil’s arm and leaped from the carriage. Emma would have been more touched and pleased by this if another guard had not grabbed Alex before he hit the ground. The man held her brother pinned with an arm around his chest. “Bug off!” Alex snapped. He squirmed and twisted uselessly.
“Nothing to see here, people.” The sergeant waved his baton at the onlookers.
“Pardon me!” Neil sauntered down the carriage steps, clutching a small silk pouch. Emma recognized it and stopped struggling.
Casually Neil raised the little bag of woofle seeds high in the air.
Emma braced herself for the explosion as a voice shouted from above her head:
“Stop! Thief!”
A boy tumbled from a third-story window. He managed to snag a drainpipe, slowing his descent. Then he bounced off a striped awning and landed on Sergeant Miller.
The two fell, sprawling on the ground, but since he was on top, the boy was the first to move. Springing off the prone officer, he seized Emma, keeping her between him and the rest of the enraged guards.
“Morning,” said the boy. “I’m Savachia. Hate to impose, but I’m rather in need of a hostage.”
Alex and Pimawa trudged through the crowd, which parted to let them pass. No one seemed to want to argue with the platoon of guards that surrounded them.
“Do not fret, Master Alex,” Pimawa said under his breath. “The escort is merely a security precaution.”
Alex had some serious doubts about that. The fact that he and Pimawa were chained together was a hint that the guards were not just looking out for their welfare.
“All this will be straightened out once we are before Master Agglar,” Pimawa continued. “I guarantee Sergeant Miller has already sent men to rescue Miss Emma.”
Rise of the Shadow Page 5
