Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Specter’s Shadows and Maske’s Marionettes

“Tonight is the night Imachara and Ellada have been waiting for: the duel between Pen Taliesin and the Specter’s Shadows and Jasper Maske and his Marionettes. The future of these magicians’ lives hangs in the balance. Who will win and who will fail? Place your bets here today!”

Sign outside sunbeam betting company.

We arrived at the Royal Hippodrome in the late morning, our nerves strung to breaking point. Out in front of the Hippodrome was a large lithographic poster of the upcoming duel, sheltered against the drizzle by an overhang. I craned my head.

The poster was taller than I was and echoed the old posters of when Maske and Taliesin worked together. Back then, they had stood shoulder to shoulder, wielding magic against little devils and smiling beatifically at passersby.

The upper half of the new poster showed Maske and Taliesin glaring at each other in a battle of wills. Maske looked younger and more handsome than he was in reality. They’d put Taliesin in a Kymri turban bedecked with jewels, and shown him as he would look if the drugs had not ravaged him. Below Maske were Drystan and Cyan, drawn as if Maske were the puppeteer controlling his marionettes. Drystan looked like Cyan’s fraternal twin. In their outstretched hands they held blue fire. Taliesin’s boys had legs that turned into smoke, as though they were specters, and they held red fire. Small imps with forked tails perched on everyone’s shoulders, whispering into their ears. Tonight was the night.

We opted not to practice on the Hippodrome stage itself for fear that someone would spy on us. Instead, months, ago we had measured the stage to the closest inch and figured out where everything would go. But an unfamiliar stage was always a liability.

Professor David Delvin, the head of the Collective of Magic, decided who would perform first by a coin toss. We made sure it wasn’t double-sided, just in case. Taliesin and his kin would perform first. Part of me liked this – we would know what we were up against, so it would be no surprise. Yet if they were far better than us, it would not be particularly good for our morale and the audience would be too jaded against wonder and magic.

We set up as much as we could, but mainly we took our black-wrapped props into one of the storerooms backstage, ensuring it remained well-locked at all times. Oli arrived not long after. He murmured a hello and stood awkwardly near us as we discussed plans. My nerves jangled even more, like a badly strung guitar. I had been edgy before circus shows, but nothing like this; even if a small mistake during the trapeze act could mean injury or death.

An hour before the show, Taliesin and his boys wandered over to us. Maske stood straight, his eyes flinty as he gazed at his rival.

“Jasper, old sport,” Taliesin wheezed, grinning to show the ruin of his mouth. His eyes were so bright I knew he was on Lerium. Sind and Jac were impeccably dressed in their magician’s kit, their faces showing only smug derision.

“Taliesin,” Maske replied. “It’s the night the scales are evened and fair.”

Taliesin gave a phlegmy laugh. “The scales were already balanced fifteen years ago, Jasper.”

Maske smirked, buffing his nails on his shirt. “Pen, we both know you unfairly weighted the scale in your favor. Let’s not have a repeat performance of that, shall we?”

Taliesin leered. “You’re one to be tetchy about cheating, old card sharp.”

The two boys echoed the sentiment, but it felt forced. The accusations of cheating unnerved them. My stomach sank. We could not afford any sort of sabotage.

“I never cheated except at cards. Not even close. Has your magic faded, now that you’re so dependent on magic of a chemical nature?”

Taliesin pulled his lips back from his teeth, as if he’d hiss at Maske like an angry cat. “You arrogant…” The twins made a move as if to strike Maske.

I stepped between them.

“Please.” I cut Taliesin off. “It’s almost time for you to begin. We’ll soon find out who wins, and there will be no cheating. On either side.” I met the Taliesins’ glares squarely.

They left, and we watched them go.

“Are they planning to cheat, Cyan?” Maske asked.

“The twins aren’t,” Cyan said. “But Taliesin is so delirious on Lerium I can’t tell. I’m surprised he could even focus his eyes, much less speak.”

“Let’s hope that means he’s too addled to cheat properly,” Drystan said, his mouth twisted.

“Time to beat the bastard once and for all,” Maske said, his calm fractured. His eyes blazed, and I saw the man who had been capable of counting cards in front of hardened criminals.

“We’ll beat him.” I said.

The head of the Collective of Magic, Professor David Delvin, and the solicitor, Christopher Aspall, met us and showed us to our private box in the theatre. Our feet sank into the lush carpet, and the chairs were upholstered in expensive red velvet.

I tried not to gape as I saw who else was in the other private boxes. Directly across from us were none other than the Princess Royal and the Steward of Ellada. The young princess wore a little tiara perched in her dark curls, and a red and gold dress with small cards embroidered on a sash around her waist. Her cheeks were pink with excitement as she craned her head to see the empty stage. I found myself smiling, but it was tinged with sadness. She was just a little girl, and the poor thing was torn between the Forester protest that could result in civil war, a dour old uncle who wanted to keep the crown for himself, and all the many nobles who only wanted to curry favor with her by virtue of her blood. I sent a brief prayer to the Lord and Lady that we would put on a good show, both to win and to give this little girl some magic in her life.

In other boxes were prominent nobility and some of the biggest merchants and property owners. People occupied every seat below, waving fans and perusing the programs. My palms grew damp. There were so many people, and many more would be out in the parks, bundled against the cold, watching us on the blank sides of buildings. So many to see us if we failed.

The lights dimmed in the body of the theatre and brightened on the stage. The show began.

The twins strode onto the stage from opposite ends, and bowed low. In unison, they turned to the audience and waved. They then proceeded to try to kill each other in a number of ways. Sind took out a pistol and Jac held up his hands in surrender before twisting and grabbing a pistol from his own pocket. They circled each other, yelling insults.

Sind fired and Jac flew back, but when he stood, only colored confetti fell from the “bullet wound” and he bowed. Jac threw a dagger that apparently went through Sind without causing injury. It stuck fast to a wooden post behind him, quivering.

The performance was like the Specter Shows, yet on a larger scale. Gone was the demonstration of small-scale magic. All was stage illusion, meant to impress and be seen from the farthest seat in the theatre.

They caused each other to explode, disappear in a cloud of smoke, and then reappear, looking composed and without a hair out of place. The audience gasped with shock and amazement. Several clutched the hollow of their throats in fear. In the Collective of Magic’s theatre box, their faces were impassive as they surveyed the illusions before them.

They next brought out the magic lantern for the phantasmagoria from the Specter Shows. Death again appeared on a shifting curtain of smoke. The magicians bowed before it, apologizing for having just cheated Styx himself of their deaths. Styx began to weave his hands and little figures appeared in the smoke. Chimaera with the wings of bats and angels flew overhead, and below people with forked fish tails and fins on their backs swam through the currents of the River Styx. Beings with the legs of fauns or horses or the large horns of antelope, deer, or bulls staggered toward their fate in death.

“You have escaped me, for your magic is mighty,” Death intoned, a disembodied voice I recognized as Taliesin’s booming through the theatre. A projection of his face undulated on the shifting smoke. “You are the only ones I will ever bow to. In return, I will give you more power.” Death himself bowed to the first twin, and then the other, before disappearing.

The next few illusions showcased the twins reveling in their new power. Coins fell from their pockets to scatter on the floor, rolling and spinning.

They levitated themselves, and I narrowed my eyes in triumph. Their levitation was shoddy and even from this distance I could see a few of the wires, though perhaps that was only because of my good eyesight. Hopefully the Collective would notice as well. But would that be enough? All of their other illusions were so expertly performed.

My stomach twisted and I bit my lip so hard I feared drawing blood. Every illusion was calculated to show that they held the power – they wielded it over death itself. The message they sent was clear: nobody could defeat them. Especially us.

Micah, Cyan said to me, as though she sensed the trend of my thoughts. If I wanted to, I could make them stumble. I could distract them so easily.

Oh, it was tempting. So tempting. If the Taliesins had a mindreader in their midst, they would not hesitate at all to use that power to win, and the Specter’s Shadows might have planned something already. I shook my head minutely. If we did that, we’d be no better than Taliesin all those years ago. Our act is good. We can beat them.

I knew you’d say that. Was worth a try. With a resigned little shrug, she turned her attention back to the stage.

They stepped backwards into two spirit cabinets, locking themselves inside. There was a large sound and a blast of light. The doors of the cabinet swung open to reveal no one inside.

Another flash of light and a crash of cymbals, and the twins appeared on stage again. But another set of twins were there as well, flanked to either side. I squinted at the stage. It must have been something to do with mirrors, but I could not see the angles. The four twins coalesced into a single person, who bowed low before turning on his heel and disappearing into a wisp of smoke that faded into nothingness.

I sunk lower into my seat, fighting the urge to swear or cry. How could we hope to defeat this?

The applause was deafening.

The show paused for intermission. The audience would be mingling in the gigantic foyer of marble and gilt, sipping drinks and discussing the Specter twins as a dance troupe undulated on the stage to music played by minstrels.

Taliesin’s stagehands cleared the props away, and the three of us and Oli labored to move our gimmicks into their proper places. In actuality we should have had another stagehand or two, but Maske did not want to hire anyone he did not trust.

We stepped back once everything was in place, panting with effort. It was almost time.

Maske cleared his throat. “No matter the outcome, I want to thank you. Without you, I’d still be moldering in that little theatre. If I lose this time, I’ll know I gave it my all, and had the best help possible.” He sniffed. “But Lord and Lady Above, I really want to win.”

He drew us into a hug in a rare gesture of physical affection. I returned the hug fiercely. Anisa was in my pocket. Just in case.

Christopher Aspall came through, folding his hands in front of him. “The show will begin in five minutes. I wanted to tell you personally.” He clasped hands with Maske. “It will be a privilege to see your illusions on stage once again.” His face twitched in the semblance of a smile.

“Thank you, Mr Aspall,” Maske said in his stage voice, deep and mysterious. “We will endeavor to entertain you as best we can.”

And then it was our turn.

We took our places and the curtains fell away.

I flitted behind the scenes as the puppeteer pulling the strings of the hidden wires and contraptions. Oli helped me when needed, and he proved to be an apt assistant. I gave him a smile and he nodded back, straight-faced and anxious.

“Maybe I can change callings, be a full-time stagehand, eh?” Oli said, tying a knot tight around a belaying pin.

“If we win, maybe.”

He shook my hand. I smiled and nodded my thanks as the show began.

Like the Specter twins, we created a story to twine the acts together. And, through the lens of theatre, it was Maske’s tale. Drystan, who went by the stage name of Amon Ayu, played the young magician studying to be a scientist who stumbled upon a book of magic. After performing a brief, furious flurry of legerdemain, with scarves pulled from sleeves and a dove flying from beneath his coattails as it had in my vision at Twisting the Aces, the audience laughed at his unabashed surprise and delight at this new magic.

He learned more, and the tricks grew more elaborate. He set out to impress a lady magician, Cyan, who went by the stage name of Madame Damselfly. At first, they flirted through magic. I smiled to myself as I watched them from behind stage. The illusions were Maske’s, but we had all helped with the storyline. He gave her a bouquet of flowers from thin air, which she turned into a shower of glitter and confetti. He levitated her above his head, with me above stage in the gridiron manipulating wires, and she tilted her head down for a kiss.

That bit I didn’t like so much.

Reaching toward Cyan smoothed my doubts. Cyan was not even concentrating on the kiss. She was thinking about the next trick and the way she’d have to move just so to get it perfectly. In that brief brush of her mind, I felt the heat from the lamps and the stares of countless pairs of eyes. I lingered within her mind, as it was the closest as I would get to the stage that night. Cyan knew I was there, and it was as though she wrapped an arm around me, drawing me close to watch the show.

When Drystan lowered her, he gave her another kiss on the cheek, and when he moved away a small jewel remained where his lips had rested. Cyan planted the jewel into a pot and a tree grew from it before the audience’s very eyes, which bore tiny apples. She cut one in half and gave him back his jewel from the core to more applause. The Jeweled Arbor was one of my favorite tricks – another perfect blend of science, magic, and story to enchant the audience.

Drystan became more powerful. His illusions grew darker. He disappeared into the spirit cabinet and bats flew out of the empty interior when Cyan went to look for him. He appeared in the audience instead, striding back onto the stage.

He needed more power. Cyan produced a little mechanical butterfly and it fluttered over to catch his attention. Drystan set it aside and turned back to his books.

“Am I not enough?” she asked.

He ignored her. The answer was clear.

Cyan deflated, moping in a corner, causing lights of candles to extinguish and rekindle.

After a short time, Madame Damselfly packed her bags and left. It was only after that the magician realized how much he loved her. He tried to call her back, with and without magic. She resisted him at every turn, and then with sleight of hand showed him a new, very large engagement ring. She turned to leave and he grabbed her. Cyan struck him. Drystan yelled and took out a gun and fired at her, point blank. The same trick as the Taliesin twins, but in a different context. Cyan paused, almost as if she’d been struck, and then she spat the bullet from her mouth, which skittered to the floor. She claimed she would never see him again. After she left, a flurry of black crow feathers floated through the air, settling silently on the stage.

The light dimmed and darkened. The magician regretted his actions. He held his head in his hands. The orchestra beneath the stage whined. But the loss of his love could not deter him. To prove he was the master of magic, he raised the ghost of a Chimaera.

It had not been easy. Behind a drawn curtain, Oli and I raised the clear plate glass, angling it toward the audience. Down below the stage was a smaller level, like an extra orchestra pit. Down there, all was dark, with Oli swathed head to toe in black velvet. The only objects in the second stage were a moving platform, angled so that a figure standing on it would tilt at the same angle as the mirror, and an oxyhydrogen spotlight that would illuminate the ghostly apparition.

I jumped down and threw the costume of a patched and ragged coat over my black clothes and stuck a pair of antlers on my head. I stood on a platform brandishing a curved prop sword. Oli made some last minute adjustments before lighting the oxyhydrogen spotlight so my reflection showed on the stage. I went through the rehearsed feints and stints so that it looked like Drystan fought a Chimaera ghost. He vanquished me and I fell to the floor and Oli dimmed the light so I faded from view.

Once it was safe, I sat up and took the antlers and costume off and let out a tentative sigh of relief. We were almost done, and so far all had gone according to plan.

I couldn’t help but smile ruefully as well. In the circus, I had dressed as a girl for the pantomime, and nobody knew, save Drystan, that I had actually spent the first sixteen years of my life as a girl. Now, I played a Chimaera ghost, and none of the audience knew that I was sort-of Chimaera and hid a Phantom Damselfly in my pocket.

Drystan began the finale, saying he did not need Madame Damselfly and that he could create the love of his life.

“But can I do it?” he asked himself. “Is my magic strong enough?”

Just as in practice the other day, the gauze curtain behind him fluttered. Drystan pulled it away to reveal the automaton on the podium. The audience gasped and whispered. Through Cyan’s eyes, I looked up at the box where Doctor Pozzi sat with the Princess Royal. He leaned forward in his seat.

Drystan muttered and gestured as he began the “incantations” to bring the automaton to life. I looked around for Oli, as I didn’t see him under the stage and I wanted him around in case I needed help with the star trap. Cyan was changing hurriedly in a dressing room.

Micah, I heard her say, frantic. I think something’s happened to Oli. I can’t sense him. I can’t feel him!

Go check on him. I sensed pain. Can’t get much more – too many people around. And something weird. My ability is fluctuating. I can only reach you because I’m “shouting” as loud as I can.

I heard footsteps behind stage. I’ll check, I said, but I didn’t know if she heard me. Biting my lip, I guessed I had about ten minutes before I needed to be by the star trap. I sprinted behind the stage and then stopped. Oli lay sprawled across the floor, half-dragged behind a box of props. I heard a rustle of movement and crouched into a fighting stance.

A large man, bald and muscle-bound, crept toward the stage. I took a step and a floorboard creaked. The man stared at me. Distantly, I heard Cyan yelling in my mind. I rushed him.

The man grabbed me and threw me across the backstage as though I weighed no more than a doll. The back of my head exploded with pain. With a grunt, I rushed him again, dancing out of his reach and landing a punch into his kidneys. His breath left in a whoosh of pain but he stayed standing. “Was only meant to be one runt back here, not two,” he growled.

I darted out of his grasping arms and grabbed a nearby skein of rope. But I was too slow – he grabbed me and threw me again, harder. I hit the wall and slid down it, all my breath gone from my lungs. With a sickening lurch, I remembered Bil had thrown Aenea much the same way in the circus. I stayed still until he turned away. With painful slowness, I sat up. Knowing I had but moments, I scrabbled about desperately. My hands found a spare belaying pin, a long, rounded metal spike used to tie ropes to. I threw it at him with all my strength, hitting him on the back of the head. He fell with a thump. I panted, my ribs screaming with pain, but I felt a brief glow of triumph.

That glow faded when someone grabbed me from behind and then put their hands around my neck and squeezed. All the terror of Bil’s attack returned in a rush, and for a moment, I couldn’t move. I pretended to fight against the man, making my movements weaker, and then I went limp. The hands loosened. Slowly, I drew more air into my lungs and saw who had attacked me.

It was Pen Taliesin, and in his hand – a hand that had just strangled me – was an Eclipse, the Vestige artifact that would cause all other Vestige in the immediate vicinity to stop functioning. It would turn the automaton from the finale to a frozen statue.

I tried to rise, but my battered body wasn’t quick enough. At the movement, Taliesin craned his head toward mine, his lips pulled back from his mouth. I felt the snarl mirrored on my own features.

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I knocked Taliesin to the floor. If I hadn’t just been thrown across the room and half-throttled, it wouldn’t have been a fair fight. I was young and lithe, far stronger than I had a right to be, and he was so fragile he might as well have been made of old bone and dry leaves. But I hurt, and I was slower. He managed to give me a glancing blow across my cheek, his fingernails scratching my skin. But I pushed him from me as hard as I could. He unbalanced and the Eclipse tumbled from his gnarled hands. I scrabbled for it.

Though he was a weak ruin of a man, he was on Lerium. With a last burst of strength he punched me in the face. For a moment, the world around me wobbled, and he tried to grab the Eclipse. I recovered and wrestled him to the ground, using my entire bodyweight to keep him down.

“I won’t let him win,” Taliesin wheezed. “Even if he wins today, I’ll do everything in my power to make him suffer. He ruined my life. He ruined me!”

“And you ruined his life, too. You were both stupid and hurt each other, but now let it go.”

His hand fumbled and he grasped the Eclipse again. “I’ll make him sorry.”

“Not today, Taliesin,” I said, rapping his head smartly against the floor. Power flooded through me, heady and strong, as I held him down. He could not fight back. From far away I could tell that Cyan had “heard” what was happening. Her presence batted at the edges of my consciousness, but I pushed her away.

Taliesin glared at me with his yellowed eyes, his breath smelling of decay and the cloying spice of Lerium. And then the leer subsided and he was only a pathetic man gasping for breath, his face purpling. I realized how easy it would be to kill him. To make sure he never tried to harm Maske. Immediately, I skittered away from that thought, horror growing within me. Was that my own thought, my own bloodlust, or was it Anisa’s emotions feeding into mine?

With a shaking breath, I forced my fingers to loosen. Taliesin took great, shuddering gasps, his eyes rolling in his skull. With his henchman subdued and without the Eclipse, Taliesin was no threat. Not truly. We possessed the skill and the magic. Our chances of winning were as good as they could be. If we won and he still attempted to tamper with us, we had the Collective of Magic to petition to, and proof he had attempted to cheat. Taliesin had failed.

“Come on,” Taliesin rasped, a last plea. “Let me just press the button. I’ll pay you for it. Enough to set you up for life.”

“If you go now, I won’t tell everyone out there” – I jerked my head toward the audience – “what you tried to do. And your grandsons won’t need to know you didn’t think them talented enough to win on their own.”

I let him go and stepped back, bending down to clutch the Eclipse, never taking my eyes off of him.

“Get away,” I said, my voice hard and sharp. He stumbled off the stage, barely able to walk without his cane.

I watched him go. The henchman had awoken, skulking off from backstage. He paused and turned, meeting my angry eyes, taking in the Eclipse in my hand. He must have thought it was a weapon, for he held up his hands.

“You go too, or I’ll call the policiers after the show,” I bluffed. Cyan whispered his name in my mind. “I know your name, Jarek Lutier. And where you live. Trouble me again and you’ll regret it.”

“How do you know my name?” he asked, blood draining from his face.

“I know more than you could ever guess. Go.”

Whatever he saw in my face frightened him. He ran from the stage, and I would be certain he wouldn’t tell a soul he was soundly beaten by a boy he thought might have magical powers.

Micah! Hurry! Cyan called from below the stage.

I heard Drystan say, “You shall become the love I never had…” and I raced toward the stage. There was less than a minute.

Don’t go up the star trap without me, Cyan, it’s too dangerous! I yelled at her.

If I don’t go, the act is ruined, and we’re ruined. Faster, Micah!

I wrenched open the trap door and jumped down below the stage, even though it was a deep drop, for there was no time for the ladder. Cyan stood near the star trap machine, wringing her hands.

“Thanks,” I panted. “You saved the performance.”

“Yes, I know. No time. Hurry!”

I fiddled with the machinery. Just in time, the trapdoor opened and the automaton slid down the star trap. I caught her and set her down.

“Come on, Cyan.”

She stepped onto the platform. She had painted her face with silver swirls, though at my request, she had made them look less like Anisa’s markings. She bent down and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. An apology. A comfort.

I pulled the lever, and she rose to the stage. She unhooked the sleeves and the audience gasped as she revealed herself to them.

“My love!” Drystan spoke of her beauty and perfection, and she covered her face again, as if in shyness. I pulled the lever, and Cyan came back down the star trap. Up above, Drystan reached for her, and the dress collapsed. To the audience, it was if she had disappeared completely. In reality, the dress was sucked into a tube, which Drystan covered with his leg. The tube and the dress dropped back down the star trap and I caught them.

Drystan cried out in surprise and dismay. He admitted the errors of his ways – and he repented to the Lord and Lady, throwing his magic books into a chest.

Cyan wiped the silver from her face and hurried to the trapdoor beneath the spirit cabinet and climbed the ladder. She emerged from the cabinet up above.

“Is the real girl not better than the magic one?” she asked, teasingly.

Drystan fell to his knees.

“Do you love me?” she asked.

“More than anything, my sweet! More than the moon loves the sun.”

“Would you give up your magic for me?”

“In a heartbeat, though it would be like tearing my heart in twain.”

She reached down and tilted his head up at her. “Then I will not ask such a thing of you. But you must not let it overwhelm the goodness at your core.”

They embraced, and I fought down a scowl again as I climbed behind the stage to the gridiron above.

Stop fretting, Micah. Cyan said. Though he’s a good kisser.

Lord’s left nut, everyone in the Kymri Theatre has kissed Drystan now except for Maske.

There’s still time! Cyan teased before breaking the kiss. As they did, I ran across the gridiron, releasing confetti and glitter. Cyan and Drystan bowed to thunderous applause before the curtains fell.

“Taliesin?” Drystan echoed.

“He tried to ruin us.” I said. “He knocked out Oli.”

Oli pointed to his head to illustrate, swaying slightly on his feet.

“Oli, you should go get some ice from the dressing room for your head,” I said. “You don’t want that bump to swell any more.”

He nodded and grimaced before weaving his way to the dressing room.

When Oli left, I took the Eclipse from my back pocket. “He had this.”

“Hurry up and hide it,” Drystan urged. “Anyone sees you with that and they’ll either steal it or report you to the policiers.”

“Styx.” I put it in my suit pocket.

Maske found us, beaming. “Marvelous. You were all marvelous. I couldn’t be prouder.” He gave all of us rough hugs and a kiss on the top of our heads. It was still so strange to see him so affectionate.

The Collective of Magic went to deliberate, and the guests again congregated in the main foyer, drinking and discussing the duel. I hoped they were not disappointed. We huddled in the dressing room. Maske downed a large whisky – the smell of which still made me gag – and the rest of us stared at the bottle of champagne morosely. Drystan and I sat close together, holding hands so tightly it almost hurt. Oli held ice against his head and Cyan wrung her hands together next to him, staring off into the distance.

Are you listening to what they’re saying?

No. They’re too far away for me to hear, unfortunately. I’m listening to Taliesin and his grandsons. The boys don’t know what Taliesin tried to do. Her voice warmed with triumph. They’re worried. Couldn’t believe how well we performed.

To be honest, neither could I.

After half an hour of deliberation, the Collective called everyone back into the auditorium. The audience took a long time to settle back into their seats. I fought the irrational urge to yell at them to hurry up so we could learn our fate. Finally, everyone fell silent.

Professor David Delvin stood in the center of the stage, flanked by some of the best magicians of the age – the leaders of the Collective of Magic.

Professor Delvin waved to the left side of the stage. Taliesin came out, limping along with his cane, the feathers of his turban bobbing. He tried to come across as triumphant, but I saw how he favored his arm, and how he would not look at me or Maske.

His grandsons followed, straight-backed, smiling disarmingly at the crowd. My stomach felt as though it dropped to my knees. These twins had been born on the stage and lived and breathed magic their entire lives. Their show had far more money behind it, and was flashier. I could not help but think we had no chance, even if I had foiled Taliesin’s plot.

I gripped Drystan’s hand even harder.

Professor Delvin gestured to his right, and I released Drystan’s hand so Maske, Cyan, and he could walk onstage. They blinked under the bright glass globes of the theatre.

“This was not an easy decision to make. The Taliesin Twins of the well-known and beloved Specter Shows performed wonderfully, illustrating their supposed power over death.

“And the newcomers, whom many proclaimed the underdogs, Maske’s Marionettes, also gave a stunning performance, focusing their magic into showing the inherent dangers of letting it overwhelm you. Both acts stunned, delighted, and amazed, just as good magic should.

“And so, how to choose?”

He paused, turning toward the other members of the Collective of Magic. I did not know their names, but they were all men with graying hair, wearing immaculate suits, their blank magicians’ smiles giving away no secrets. Had they found us worthy or wanting?

“After a long deliberation by the Collective of Magic, with input from the Royal Princess Nicolette Snakewood of Ellada herself, we have come to our decision.”

He paused again, and I couldn’t breathe. Maske, Cyan, and Drystan all gripped each other’s hands. I tried to read Cyan’s face, but if she intuited anything, none of it showed. Taliesin glared past the Collective of Magic and Maske and his marionettes, his gaze resting on me. Now that his fear was gone, it was only rage, but impotent. I glared right back at him, my throat tight with fear and anticipation.

“The winners of the duel between the scions of the great magicians of Pen Taliesin and Jasper Maske are…”

Another pause. The tension in the audience rose. Everyone in the theatre, and all the folk out in the parks on the cold night, I was sure, held their breaths. My entire body tingled, and I could not take my eyes from his face.

“Jasper Maske, and his Marionettes: Amon Ayu and Madame Damselfly!”

My knees shook in relief. I sagged against one of the columns to the side of the stage, my face hurting from smiling so hard.

We did it. We actually did it.

“As I said, it was very difficult – almost impossible – to choose between two teams of magicians of such obvious talent and skill,” Professor Delvin continued. “In the end, Maske’s Marionettes won due to a slightly superior execution of tricks, a more cohesive storyline, and a truly spectacular finale. Well done to you all.” He bowed to them, and they bowed in turn. I couldn’t believe it. On the stage, Cyan wiped tears from her eyes, beaming from ear to ear, the grin echoed on Drystan’s and Maske’s faces. Maske stood straight and tall, a man come back to life.

Taliesin’s face darkened with rage. I half-expected him to punch Professor Delvin in the face. Sind and Jac Taliesin, by contrast, were flabbergasted, their eyes wide and mouths open.

Taliesin and his grandsons shuffled to the left of the stage, still visible but no longer smirking. One of the twins looked like he might be crying.

The curtains of the stage pulled back again, and all of our props had been cleared away and the scenery changed to a painted canvas of the sunset over the ocean of Imachara Beach. My gaze rested on the section of the beach where R.H. Ragona’s Circus of Magic had camped last summer.

But then someone came onto the stage. The Princess Royal walked toward Maske, straight-backed. She wore a royal smile – pleasant and distant – but her eyes sparkled. She held a small box in her outstretched hands. When she reached Maske, she craned her neck up at him.

Guards flanked the stage, and when I turned my head, a man stood next to me, flanked by more guards. I started as I recognized the Royal Steward of Ellada. I’d never seen him up close. He had a full head of gray hair and deep pouches beneath his eyes that made him look sleepy, though his eyes were bright and keen as black buttons.

“Who’s this?” he asked his guards.

“One of Maske’s stagehands, Sam,” the other said without a pause, and my eyes widened, a shiver running over me. The Steward gave me a cool stare and looked back to the stage.

“Mister Maske, Madame Damselfly, and Amon Ayu,” she said, and her small, childish voice carried throughout the theatre. “I congratulate you on your victory tonight, and offer you a small token of my gratitude for an evening of delightful entertainment.” The words were rehearsed but I could tell she had indeed enjoyed the performance.

Maske took the box, bowing as low as he could.

“I thank you most sincerely, Your Highness,” he intoned gravely. He opened the box, and within were three large pins set with diamonds and the emeralds of Ellada. The young, future queen asked them all to kneel, and she fastened the pins herself. She then bade them to rise, and they did, the pins sparkling on their breasts. My eyes shone with tears as I watched.

She inclined their head at them again. “Thank you again, Mister Maske. I look forward to perhaps seeing you and your colleagues perform at the palace someday.”

“It would be a singular pleasure, Your Highness.”

She smiled politely at him again and made her way off the stage, toward her uncle and therefore me. Her eyes met mine as she passed. “I recognize you,” she said. My mind spun in a panic. Had I ever met the Princess Royal as Iphigenia Laurus? Only once, and she would have been far too young, only a toddler, to remember me among the crowds at her birthday party at the palace.

“You were the Chimaera ghost!”

Sweet relief flooded through me. “I am… I was, Your Highness,” I stammered.

She smiled, and unlike the one on stage, this appeared genuine. “And you did everything backstage?”

“I did, though our friend Oli helped.”

“Was it difficult?” she asked, and her voice lost that forced, royal cadence. She was like any other curious child.

I smiled back. “It was, Your Highness. I had to run around an awful lot. But it was a lot of fun as well, and very rewarding. I am so proud of my friends.”

“I hope you will come and perform at the palace for me.”

Mindful of the Steward and his cool gaze, I lowered myself to one knee. “We would love nothing more, Your Highness.”

She grinned outright, and I saw she was missing a front tooth. She was so adorable I wanted to gather her into my arms for a hug, future monarch or no.

“Come, Nicolette, it is time to be going,” the Steward said.

“Yes, uncle,” she said obediently, her smile fading.

“Good night, Your Highness,” I said.

“Good night… what is your name?”

I hesitated for a heartbeat, my mind scrabbling for a full name. “Sam… Harper, Your Highness.”

“Good night then, Mister Harper.”

I watched her go before turning my attention back to the stage. Professor Delvin and the other magicians gave short speeches about the merits of magic as entertainment and praising Maske for his performance. Taliesin had limped off the stage in disgust, but the two grandsons remained; it seemed almost cruel for them to still be there. Professor Delvin now listed the prizes: a sizeable cash sum – enough that we could renovate the theatre in full and still have plenty left over; full support of the Collective for new shows and performances; and, as mentioned, the wager of old was settled. Jasper Maske could perform magic and illusion with no hindrance, and Pen Taliesin and his grandsons would have to shut their doors. The Specter Shows would be no more.

I chewed my lip at that. One morning several weeks ago, I had broached the subject with Maske of what would happen if we won – if he would truly keep up his end of the bargain and ruin the boys’ career.

“Why do you care?” he asked. “There’s no love between the twins and you. Especially Drystan.” The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement as he remembered the tale of the fistfight after the Specter Shows.

“No, but it’s not their fault their grandfather is a tosser, is it?” I asked.

“No, I suppose it’s not,” was all he’d said.

I stared at Maske, hoping he would remember the conversation.

I willed a thought at him, wishing he could hear it: Be the better man.

I could not send it, but Cyan could. I felt her push the thought so that it whispered in Maske’s mind. His eyes darted first to Cyan and then to me. I met his gaze.

When it was his turn to speak, Maske cleared his throat. “Thank you to everyone who has watched our performance tonight. I am overwhelmed with the support you have shown for us and for magic. I am ecstatic to be declared the victor.” He licked his lips. “However, I wish to amend the wager slightly, if it is alright with the Collective of Magic, of course.”

Professor Delvin frowned but motioned for him to continue.

“In the fifteen years I have not performed magic, it has been difficult for me, like missing a limb.”

My eyes found Doctor Pozzi in the crowd. His mouth twisted at that turn of phrase.

“I thought that, were I victorious, I would delight in giving that same sentence upon others. That it would make me feel the stronger man. But, I have learned that it would not, and so I do not wish to ban Sind and Jac Taliesin from the Specter Shows, nor take their premises from them. The loss of such a wonderful spectacle would hurt Imachara and Ellada. What the world always needs more of is magic and wonder.” He bowed to the audience, and then toward the Taliesin twins.

They looked at him in utter amazement, and bowed back in turn. They were so surprised that I wondered how much kindness they’d had in their lives.

Not much from their grandfather, that’s for sure. He speaks to them like they’re his servants. Or vermin, Cyan said.

Be that as it may, I still didn’t like them.

The audience approved of Maske’s speech and everyone applauded, and most gave a standing ovation. Maske, Cyan, and Drystan held hands and bowed again. People threw flowers and coins onto the stage. And then the curtains closed, obscuring them from sight.