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“Are you ready to start?” Michael said. “I can only give you an hour or so, but I’d like to show you around.”
My orientation began with a tour of the grounds. Michael and I walked around the lower perimeter of the great warehouse. Rounding the first corner, we followed a narrow dirt trail into a copse of trees.
“Any idea where we are now?” said Michael.
“This must be the forest where Lemuel’s house is, and the tavern,” I said.
“Right you are. It won’t look nearly so enchanted in the bright light of day.”
We came to a steep hill. The trail went on a gentle incline along the side of it.
“This is an artificial berm,” said Michael. You passed underneath it when you entered the tunnels from the tavern. It’s here to keep the warehouse hidden during the early acts of our drama. We planted these nice, tall trees along the top to act as a screen. It’s been here ten years now, and it’s grown in rather nicely.”
We reached the top of the berm, some ten feet above the ground, and began the descent down the other side. “In daylight, you can see the warehouse through these branches, but at night, you’d really have to be looking for it.”
“I didn’t see it at all,” I said. Of course, I hadn’t been looking.
Soon, we stood at the door of the tavern.
“You were selected for the role of accidental keeper. You got to hold the medallion. We endow our older candidates with that track. It’s a more involved story. We can add one or two more to that narrative. Your friend Clive was included through one of our most elaborate plots yet!”
“You guessed right that Clive would steal Olivia’s letters.”
“It was satisfying to see it all come together. Tonight’s story will be a bit less involved. Every night is a little different.”
“Is it always as frightening?”
“We do add a few unnerving touches to the drama. Seems to make things more believable. It gets a bit scary, and that’s on purpose.”
“I noticed,’ I said.
“Our play has darkness and light. Each brings out the essence of the other. Of course, the younger children are sometimes overwhelmed by it. But everyone faces the Grim Frost together. And we always win. Here, take a look at this.”
He swung open the door of sculpted gnarled roots. He pointed to several indentations hidden behind the grooves and curves of the twisting body of the tree. Tiny globes of glass peeked from within the knotted cover.
“There are lights hidden all over this tree, inside and out. We have bright white floods, for when Mother Solstice shows up. These smaller bulbs provide soft yellow and blue lights, quite dim, to give the tree a spectral quality. It’s subtle, but I quite like it. There is a real tree just behind this false front, though it’s off a bit to the left, and this entryway swerves over to the right, and down to our show structure. The branches above us are real. The tavern is not. Take a look behind the tree. The shed is more obvious in this light.”
Two corrugated metal sheds stood behind the tree, and butted up against the berm. I tried to picture how this had looked the night before, but my memory was still richly colored by the dreamlike feeling that I had been moving in.
“It’s hard to believe this is the same place,” I said.
“I hope it isn’t a disappointment.”
“No, not at all.” I looked at the detail of carved concrete tree bark along the false sections of the tavern entrance. It was intricate work, designed to fool the eye. I ran my hands along the painted surface. “It’s fantastic,” I said.
“Let’s go in.” Michael pushed open the door and stood aside to make room for me.
A few of the interior lights were still on, but it was harder to see having come in from the sunlight.
“You met the F.A.B. here. So did Clive. Just so you know, they weren’t drinking anything like actual beer, holly or otherwise. In fact, my actors tell me they find the sugared punch in those barrels utterly repulsive. Try some for yourself.”
He grabbed a mug and drew some liquid from the barrel marked Wish Number Three. I drank it. It was tepid and bland. “I’ve had worse,” I said, and laughed. “The F.A.B. sure looked like they were enjoying it.”
“They are some of the best actors in the world. Most of them have been with me for all twelve years we have been in operation.”
“Twelve years!” I said.
“Yes indeed. This production has been staged twelve times a year, for twelve years. So, that’s something like a hundred forty-four performances, once tonight is done. And that means nearly a thousand young people have lived through our story.”
“Have they all kept it secret?” I thought that if a thousand children in New Zealand had been through the experience I had just had, the news would have traveled.
“Nothing so strange could stay secret for long,” said Michael. “I hear from parents, and even from former candidates. Their stories have leaked into playground conversations and holiday party gossip. But remember, those odd stories about Father Christmas must compete with many more thousands of tales about Santa Claus. So far, I am a very distant second in the public consciousness.”
“Still, a thousand candidates...”
“That’s not really so many, over a dozen years. Ours is the most exclusive show I know of. And the ticket price is so high, it would make your head spin. I wish it weren’t so. I wish that thousands more could be a part of it. I never meant this to be a luxury for children of wealth.”
“We’re not wealthy,” I said. “Tabitha and Jeremy. Surely they’re not either.”
“No. You and the Boyd children were here thanks to a charitable fund that Martin and I created. Half of our candidates each year are now drawn from less privileged homes. Of course, you had an advocate. Audra campaigned for your inclusion. I’m so glad she did.”
“The Boyds, are they really going to move into the Murney’s old house?”
“Yes. Their father will be working for the ranch after the handover to the new owners. They will be in one of the smaller ranch homes. That’s really how they were selected. Mr. Murney told us about them, and I put them onto the candidate list. I wish all stories could have such nice endings. Here, let me show you another secret.”
He went past the counter, and the painting that hid the door to the secret distillery. He pressed on the wall and opened a well-hidden panel.
“There is a narrow hallway parallel to the one which you traveled. Go on in. Watch your step. It’s dark.”
Once I was inside the tunnel, I could see, through a small glass window, back into the tavern.
“From inside the set, it simply looks like a mirror. From this side, it is a window from which the scene can be observed. More than half of the mirrors that decorate all of our sets are actually viewing ports. You were being watched much of the time.”
“By who?” I said.
“By our staff, for your safety. And on occasion, by your parents.”
“They were along the whole time?”
“Much of it.”
This revelation was difficult to fit into my re-weaving of reality. “So all that time I worried about being missed, they were watching.”
“Your mother was very pleased when you tried to get word to her by way of Flutterbold,” Michael said. “Let’s go carefully,” and we continued down the narrow hall.
In a few steps, we were looking into the distillery. The vats were empty and the mechanisms were immobile.
“Any moment now, the compressors inside the main building will be turned back on. We have to run them, to keep the temperature low enough. But, it always bothered me that the machine noise leaked over into our forest set. So, I came up with the notion of this distillery, and its chugging machines. Now candidates believe that this is the source of all that factory noise.”
“That’s what I thought when I saw this. I was amazed at how much noise it made.”
“I’m happy to know that the ruse worked.” He was smiling, an impish smile, like a boy whose practical joke has gone off perfectly.
As if on cue, the machinery of refrigeration kicked up in the warehouse with a thunk and a whirr.
“There it goes,” said Michael. “It’s off and on throughout the day. We must keep the ice from melting, without driving up costs too much. And keeping fresh layers of snow is a constant messy business”
We walked along the edge of the room, circling around until we came to a simple door on a hinge that pushed open and into the first tunnel behind the VN portal.
“I’m sure you remember the start of your journey here. You put a key into this door from the other side. One of our crew stood in this spot, reached into this crevice, and pulled it through so that the key was yanked out of your hand.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Then our stage hand opened the door, just partway, and ducked back into the parallel corridor by pushing here.” He motioned for me to follow him back into the hidden walkway, and then we were alongside the second passage, behind another door.
“The same key was set up for you, along with the jacket and boots. I’m sure you remember all the mirrors along the walls. Much of what seems like decoration is born of the need for viewing ports. Here, let’s go all the way through to Very North. We won’t stay long. The fans aren’t yet blowing, but it’s cold enough just the same.”
We emerged into the taller of the two warehouses. Not only were the work lights on, but a large sliding door was opened to the east side, letting considerable sunlight into the cavernous room. A crew was running crates out onto a truck parked nearby.
“What are they doing?” I asked.
“Believe it or not, picking up deliveries. There is a section of this warehouse where we still store fresh cuts of meat. They’re taking it to the local market.”
“So, Marbury Meats...”
“Is still a going concern. A modest one.”
In this light, I could see that the largest drifts and mounds of snow were actually structures of wire mesh and concrete. There were a dozen trees to the right of the largest hill, and near these was the cottage where Kris first took me in. There I had sat by a fireplace and believed myself to have traveled thousands of miles, across oceans by way of some earthen tunnels.
“If you look to the left, you can see where our other passageway comes into this space. That is where our younger visitors enter Very North. Their journey is much less complicated. Of course, those children are spared the site of poor Trimble being hunted and shot.”
As soon as he mentioned it, I had to know how that had worked.
“Here, walk around this embankment. Stay on the plywood planks. Careful, they can be slippery.”
On the other side of the modest white drift was an apparatus of lights, fans and air blowers.
“During the show, we blow a mist throughout this chamber. It adds to the atmosphere, and makes it easier for our guests to believe that they are outdoors. I could only create the outside world of Very North in a state of darkness and storm. Those lights are aimed upward, and in the mist, they create a beam against which Trimble and the hunters are seen in shadow.”
In front of one bank of light cans, there was a platform, on top of which was a puppet, about two feet long, carved of wood, with articulated joints. It was finely crafted in the form of a reindeer.
“This puppet cast the shadows of the dying Trimble onto the mist. It’s a simple trick, but dramatic. More than once, I have seen brave young visitors try to rush to Trimble’s aid. Of course, Father Christmas is always nearby, waiting to intervene.”
“Has anyone ever made their way around and seen the whole works?”
“Oh yes. Every illusion in our show has been discovered by one clever child or another. The real trick is to come up with some explanation that will keep the candidate in our story. Improvisation is the principle skill among my performers.”
I saw the sleigh on which I had made a brief journey.
“This is the trickiest part of our story. I try to make sure that everyone keeps their heads down for the duration. It’s on a track, you see.”
Michael showed me the track used to guide the sleigh on its short ride. The groove led through a tunnel, with blowing fans designed to keep young eyes tucked into coats and hoods. Small projections of moving lights were installed, so those who peeked would see little flashes whoosh by. The sound of howling wind was amplified by speakers to drown out the compressors and fans that kept the place cold.
“We work hard to convince our candidates that they have actually been outside, riding in a storm. Once we establish that, then our play is truly something that can only have happened by magic. Everything that follows is then twice as enchanted.”
Michael took me to the back of the set for the snow-covered yard. From this angle, opposite the Great Hall, I could see the floor above the three long windows. The show control booth was situated above. I saw the many lights that hung from scaffolding. I saw speaker cabinets, air ducts and catwalks. From inside the ballroom, this endlessly complicated apparatus was invisible. From this side of the scene, it was staggering, even intimidating.
Michael showed me the amazing apparatus that animated the Grim Frost. I saw the lifts that raised and lowered Mother Solstice, and the endless cables that powered the dancing lights. Michael was perhaps proudest of the simple mechanism that allowed the fluttering, flittery orbs to circle around the seven lanterns. It was a simple and clever design.
“Martin is a genius,” he said. “Every idea I’ve had, he’s found a way to bring it to practical life. Of course, it’s all just clever tricks if I can’t arrest the emotions. So I focus on my stories of the impossible. Martin finds a way to make them possible.”
The hour raced by. Michael announced he could show me only one more place. He walked me to the interior of the Very North palace, and into the chapel.
The stained glass window shone at full electric brightness. Michael opened a panel near the door and dimmed them to half power.
“It’s all real stained glass,” he said, “and it cost me a fortune.” He sat on the throne, leaned against its back and sighed. “The rest of these rooms are just sets, a stage for me to put on the show. But this place, it’s as sacred to me as any could ever be.”
He closed his eyes and folded his hands. “I can forget myself here.” A contented smile spread across his face.
It didn’t seem like the time to say anything, so I went to the railing at the transept. I knelt, facing the nativity by the altar. Just by habit, I put my hands together and lowered my head. The two of us were silent for at least a minute.
“Praying?” Michael asked.
“No,” I said. “I don’t think so.”
“Meditating then.”
“Just letting myself be here,” I answered.
“Wise beyond your years,” Michael said, approaching the rail. “You sound like a Buddha.”
“I don’t think so. I don’t even know what that means.”
Michael pointed to the window that depicted the robed monk. “Like the Bodhisattva. You are a student of Zen without even knowing it.”
“At least I’m not like this one,” I said, pointing to the trickster figure, Hans Heilig-Teufel. “He doesn’t seem so nice.”
“He’s cunning. He can choose to be kind or cruel. I thought it might be best to remind myself that we have the potential for either. The choice is ours.”
I looked at the plaster baby in the rough-hewn wooden manger.
“How did you get that statue to change into a baby?”
“That was clever, if you can forgive my boasting. Maybe the finest little miracle I’ve pulled off yet. But when I tell you, you may be disappointed to learn how simple it was.”
“All right, I don’t mind,” I said. “Is there a lift or a trap door?”
“Nothing that complicated. I had so little time to plan for it. The child was born last week. Samantha’s been away from her mother for six months. She had some inkling that she might one day have a brother. That’s why it was so much on her mind. I daresay, that may be why she found herself so drawn to Mr. Gordon Gibney. There is something younger-brotherish about him.”
“Yes, I thought so too.”
“Samantha moved to New Zealand with her father, all the way from Atlantic City, New Jersey. Her mother arrived just days ago. I couldn’t resist the opportunity.”
“So, that really was her baby brother!” I’d had to remind myself that, after all, Samantha had been in Christchurch last night, not in the remote North.
“Yes. Now, perhaps you’ve sorted out the truth behind the robed servants.”
“One of them was Clive’s dad.” I said.
“They were your parents, nearly all of them.”
“What? My Mum and Dad as well?”
“Yes, alongside parents, friends and relatives for all the other children.”
“They made me nervous.”
“By design. More tension to the story. It makes for a happier resolution at the end. Anyway, Mrs. Krupp entered the chapel through this panel,” he said, pressing on a section of the wall. “She had the baby child bundled in her arms, and she was surrounded by the others, all in their black robes. They gathered around the manger, just as I directed Samantha to look up at the rosette glass, way up there on the opposite wall.”
“Misdirection!” I said.
“Spoken like a true magician,” said Michael. “Mr. Krupp lifted out the plaster baby, and his wife placed the real baby, just in time for us to turn around and look.”
“Then you made Samantha look at the window again when they switched it back. We all looked up.”
“It’s hard to resist following someone’s hand when they turn their own face and point upward,” Michael said. He looked up at the rosette and pointed. And sure enough, I looked too.
“I thought it wise to reunite Samantha with her family as quickly as possible. The instant they got to the den, her parents dropped the whole charade and took her home. I doubt she’s thought about us since.”
“She didn’t get to see the end of the story, with Evan and all.”
“She’ll have a visit this very afternoon by Gordon and his family. No doubt, he will fill her in on all the details. Who knows what they will make of the whole business? They may figure it out, and that’s fine.”
“Do you mind if they find out it’s fake?”
“I’m always impressed when skeptical minds figure it out. But I love it even more when they don’t. It doesn’t matter to me if my candidates continue to believe or not. What matters is that it’s miraculous to them while it’s happening.”
“I believed every moment of it.”
“That’s what I live to hear. Now, today is your turn. You will help us make the grand miracle for others, for a few splendid hours.”
“Mr. Brams,” I said. “What will I be doing?”
“To the children, you will appear to be someone who works on the staff, alongside Della and Martin. You will help us keep an eye on our charges. Oh, and one other thing.” A sly smile crept into his expression.
“What is it?”
“You did such an excellent job with Gordon, so, you will teach another young man how to sing The Magpie’s Christmas.”