Jack sat on the porch, reading in the summer twilight. Crickets chirped in the Frog Creek woods. The bell of an ice cream truck jingled down the street.

Annie stepped out the front door. “Let’s go,” she said.

“Where?” said Jack.

“Mom gave us money for ice cream,” said Annie.

“Cool,” said Jack. He pulled on his backpack. Then he followed Annie down the porch steps. As they headed up the sidewalk, the smell of damp leaves and moss wafted from the woods.

Annie stopped walking. “Listen,” she said.

Jack listened. “What?” he said. “I don’t hear anything.”

“That’s the point,” said Annie. “A minute ago, the crickets were blaring away. Now everything’s super quiet.”

Jack listened again. Annie was right. All the Frog Creek woods seemed to be holding its breath.

“Do you think …?” said Jack.

“Maybe,” said Annie, grinning. “Let’s go check!”

Jack and Annie hurried across the street and into the dimly lit woods. They walked quickly between the leafy trees, until they came to the tallest oak. A rope ladder dangled from the tree-top. The magic tree house sat high in the branches, catching the last light of day.

Jack smiled. “I guess ice cream will have to wait,” he said.

“Yep,” said Annie. She grabbed the ladder and climbed up. Jack climbed up after her.

Inside the tree house, dusky light filtered through the window. Lying on the wooden floor was a folded piece of paper and a slim book with a red cover.

Annie grabbed the paper. Jack picked up the book. “This must be a research book from Morgan,” he said.

The book’s title was written in gold letters:

“Paris World’s Fair?” said Jack.

“That sounds like fun!” said Annie.

“Yeah, but I wonder why we’re going there,” said Jack.

“This should tell us,” said Annie. She unfolded the paper. “It’s Merlin’s handwriting.” She read aloud:

To Jack and Annie of Frog Creek: I have discovered that an evil sorcerer is plotting to steal the secrets of four new magicians at the Paris World’s Fair.

Your mission is to find the magicians, warn them, and learn their secrets for me. The four new magicians are:

The Magician of Sound—
his voice can be heard
for a thousand miles.

The Magician of Light—
his fires glow,
but they do not burn.

The Magician of the Invisible—
he battles deadly enemies
no one can see.

The Magician of Iron—
he bends the metals of earth
and triumphs over the wind.

Good luck,
M.

“Our mission sounds more like a fairy tale than real life,” said Jack. “An evil sorcerer. Magicians of the Invisible, Light, Sound, and Iron. They sound like they belong in a magical place like Camelot, not a real place like Paris, France.”

“But we’re going to a World’s Fair,” said Annie. “That sounds kind of magical, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe,” said Jack. “But why do such powerful magicians need our help in the first place? Why can’t they defeat the evil sorcerer with their own powers?”

“Maybe the sorcerer’s power is stronger than theirs,” said Annie.

“So maybe we can help them with Teddy and Kathleen’s rhymes,” said Jack.

Annie gasped. “Oh, no! We need the rhyme book! We have to go back home and get it!”

“Don’t worry, I have it,” said Jack. “Ever since we got back from Baghdad, I’ve been taking it with me everywhere I go—-just in case Merlin sends for us.”

“Whew,” said Annie. “Let’s take a look.”

Jack reached into his backpack. He pulled out the small book written by their two young sorcerer friends from Camelot:

10 MAGIC RHYMES FOR ANNIE AND JACK FROM TEDDY AND KATHLEEN

Jack turned to the table of contents. “Okay, we’ve used five rhymes on our last two missions,” he said. “So we have five left for the next two. We haven’t used Spin into the Air, or Make Something Disappear, or Pull a Cloud from the Sky, or Find a Treasure You Must Never Lose, or Turn into Ducks.”

“Quack! Quack!”

Jack looked up.

“Just kidding,” said Annie.

“You’d better not make jokes about these rhymes,” Jack said. “You might end up saying the wrong one at the wrong time and really get us in trouble.” He closed the rhyme book. “Ready to go?”

“Ready,” said Annie.

Jack took a deep breath and picked up the guide book to the 1889 Paris World’s Fair. He pointed to the title. “I wish we could go there,” he said.

The wind started to blow.

The tree house started to spin.

It spun faster and faster.

Then everything was still.

Absolutely still.