The Magicians' Convention

by Elena Paige

  “And you?”

  “Me? Yep, Toby, that’s my name, in case you forgot. Um. Well, I woke up, and there was a strange line of people outside my window. Then Grandpa went missing, and then a talking black—ow! ”

  He swatted at a giant bee that suddenly stung him on the cheek. “I’ve been stung by a—”

  He didn’t get to finish his sentence. All three children screamed and fell back against the curtain, landing softly on the floor pillows.

  “I’m sorry for the intrusion.” A sleek black panther sat down before them, licking its paws as though its presence was completely natural.

  “This is the panther I’ve been telling you about. I told you it was real,” said Toby.

  “Toby Roberts. You have done well to find Wesa and Thatch. That’s my boy,” said the panther.

  “I’m not your boy, and I didn’t exactly do it on purpose. It was more luck than anything.”

  “In any event, part one of this day is complete. Now it’s time for part two—rescuing your grandfather. And your parents. I take it you realize they, too, are missing?” said the panther, looking from Wesa to Thatch.

  Wesa jumped up from the floor as if the bee had suddenly stung her and flung herself at the panther. “Tell me where my mother is or else.”

  The panther had vanished before she managed to grab it, reappearing right next to Toby on the cushions.

  “Why you—!” said Wesa, throwing one of the hanging lanterns this time. The panther vanished just in time, and the lantern hit Toby on the head.

  “Thanks! And I thought the panther had a bad temper!”

  The panther appeared, floating among the candles above their heads. “Enough, you foolish girl! Keep this up and you shall never see your mother again. I would hate something to happen to her like it did to your father.” It floated back down and settled on the purple rug.

  Wesa started crying again. “What do you know about my father’s death?”

  Thatch’s face was contorted in pain, as though he, too, was ready to cry. “Let our parents go! We’ve done nothing to you.”

  “No, you haven’t done anything to me. But your parents have!” the panther yelled, disappearing again.

  Toby was trying to think of a way to trap the panther. He noticed that every time the panther got angry it vanished. But in fact, it didn’t disappear at all. It turned into a bee, he realized. The very bee that had stung him.

  He casually picked up the lantern Wesa had thrown at him and investigated it. It was made of the thinnest paper, but it appeared quite strong. With his hand over the open top, he could possibly trap the bee inside it. Wesa still cried loudly, which was the perfect distraction. Toby leaned over to Thatch and whispered, “Make the panther angry again. I have a plan. Trust me.”

  Thatch raised a single eyebrow as if to say he didn’t believe Toby. But Toby knew he had to try. Catching the bee would mean they had a chance at getting their loved ones back.

  “Sit down!” instructed the panther, reappearing and floating back to the ground.

  Wesa joined the boys back on the pillows, wiping her tears and replacing them with a face full of fury. “Tell me where my mother is or I’ll alert security.”

  “Quiet! I will only say this once. So listen carefully. They are unharmed and will stay that way so long as you do as I ask. You are to find a hat. It is a very powerful hat.

  “Alexander Kirby is also after it, but you three must find it first—do you understand? Do not let him get it before you do, or your loved ones will die.”

  “Great! We’re to find a hat at a magicians’ convention. How are we supposed to know which hat it is, bright spark?” Toby challenged the panther for the second time that day.

  The panther ignored him. “Once you find it, you will bring it to me.”

  “How are we supposed to find you?” said Thatch.

  “I will find you. You have until eight o’clock this evening. If you fail to find it, or worse, it gets into the wrong hands, I will not be pleased.”

  “What’s a panther like you going to do with a hat? I can give you mine right now and save you the trouble if you like,” said Toby, offering his golden hat forward.

  “Don’t play with me, Toby Roberts. The hat I am after is a special hat. It has powers beyond your wildest imagination, and it will be mine before the day is up.”

  Toby moved his eyebrows up and down to remind Thatch to do as he asked. Thatch nodded back at him.

  “And then you will give me back my mother? You haven’t hurt her, have you?” said Wesa.

  Thatch jumped up suddenly. He shook his fists toward the panther. “No! We won’t help you at all! You can get out of here, you dumb black cat. Get someone else to find your hat. We’re not interested. We’re going straight to Kirby and tell him you’re after the hat, unless you give us back our parents. And grandparent,” said Thatch with gusto .

  Toby shuffled on his pillow, closer to the panther. He was impressed with Thatch’s performance.

  “Thatch, what are you saying? We need to do as it asks,” said Wesa.

  Thatch winked at her.

  “You stupid boy—how dare you defy me. You will find the hat or they shall die!” The panther stood on its paws ready to pounce.

  “How do we even know you really have them? You’re probably lying!” said Wesa, joining in Thatch’s interrogation. She stood next to Thatch in solidarity.

  Toby continued to shuffle along the carpet, trying not to stand out. He was dying to scratch his nose, but he didn’t want to attract attention to himself.

  The panther lifted its paw, ready to strike. “You will do as I say!”

  “We won’t!” said Thatch.

  “And you can’t make us!” said Wesa.

  The panther disappeared with a pop, but just as Toby had thought, it was still in the room.

  He stood up and lunged at it, capturing the bee in the paper lantern and trapping it inside with his hand.

  “I got it!” he called.

  “What just happened?” said Wesa.

  “I think Toby just caught the panther in your lantern,” said Thatch.

  “Guys? A little help here please. I don’t think it’s a bee. It’s stinging me over and . . .” He started to slur his words. “Please don’t—”

  But it was too late. He had fainted. Again!

  8

  Three Silent Swords

  Toby opened his eyes and tried to remember where he was. Thatch’s and Wesa’s concerned faces loomed over him.

  “I’m so glad you’re all right,” said Wesa, genuine concern on her face despite only just having met him.

  “It was a wasp, wasn’t it? And it got away, didn’t it?” Toby surveyed his hand and wondered why it wasn’t red and puffy.

  “I’m afraid so. It stung you over and over again. You were very brave,” said Wesa. She turned Toby’s hand over in her own and looking at him strangely. “Your hand . . . it’s healed already, and so has your face.”

  “I’ve always been a quick healer,” said Toby.

  He glanced casually at his hand. If he’d been stung several times by a wasp, it was a little unusual that the venom hadn’t annoyed him more than this.

  “If that panther-wasp creature really has our parents, what are we going to do about it?” said Thatch, pulling out a gold coin from his overalls pocket and nervously flipping it through the air .

  “So you are a magician after all.” Toby noticed the ease with which Thatch made the coin appear and disappear.

  “Thatch is a wonderful magician,” said Wesa.

  “Not exactly. I’m not allowed to be one. But I love magic and would do it all day long if I could. It doesn’t matter. Right now all that does matter is getting our parents back. And your grandpa.” Thatch tucked the coin away, stood up stretching, and beckoned them toward the curtain opening. “Let’s get out of here.”

  He pulled the curtain aside. But before he could step through it, three full-sized shiny swords came whizzing
past his head, almost hitting him in the process. The light reflected off the long, sharp swords, and the gold handles glittered with a mixture of purple and golden gems.

  “What’s happening now?” asked Toby.

  “No idea,” said Wesa.

  “I didn’t do it,” said Thatch.

  The swords swam through the air, moving around the room like puppets on a string. As though dancing to music, they swung to and fro, gliding with the elegance of ballet dancers, and finished with a bow. Each of the sword handles swung upside down and then upright again, standing before each of the children.

  “I think they want us to take them,” said Wesa.

  “Don’t touch them,” warned Thatch as Wesa and Toby reached forward. “It might be a trick. We can’t trust anyone here. I have a bad feeling about this.”

  But Toby reached all the way forward and took his sword in hand. It felt just as he imagined Excalibur had felt for King Arthur in the famous story, cold and silky. “It’s fine, see,” he reassured the others .

  “Go on, Thatch, it’s alright,” agreed Wesa.

  They both reached out and grabbed their swords. “It’s as though it’s talking to me,” said Thatch.

  “I can feel it too,” said Toby.

  “I’m absolutely sure they are meant for us,” said Wesa.

  The children stood frozen in awe. The swords were identical in every way.

  A soft breeze interrupted them as the purple curtain once again parted. This time Mrs. Inkwell entered, Alexander Kirby at her heels.

  The swords immediately transformed into wands. Toby was shocked by both the swords’ transformations and Mrs. Inkwell discovering him at the convention. He wondered if the swords sensed the same danger he did.

  “Hello, Tobias. Wesa. Thatch,” said Mrs. Inkwell.

  The children stared wide-mouthed, unsure how to respond.

  “What are you doing here, boy?” said Alexander Kirby, staring at Thatch with contempt.

  “The doors are fine, sir. My father is guarding them. No one who isn’t meant to be here is getting in today. I’m going right back, I swear,” said Thatch.

  “In any case, children, that doesn’t matter now. We’re here on behalf of the Council, and Mr. Kirby is the president, as you are well aware. We have been alerted that something very important has gone missing, and is right here in this room,” said Mrs. Inkwell.

  Toby, Thatch, and Wesa moved as if in slow motion, hiding the wands behind their backs.

  “What have you there? Where did you get those wands?” said Alexander Kirby, trying to snatch the wand from Toby .

  But he was too quick for him. “Oh, these old things. We bought them from the wand magician for a bit of fun. Um. Yeah. Mine makes real crickets. See—abracadabra.” Toby almost fell over backward when bright green crickets emerged from his wand. Luckily it was enough to convince Mr. Kirby.

  Alexander Kirby frowned at him and returned his attention to Mrs. Inkwell.

  “Have you seen any flying swords by any chance? Our magical trace spell says they came right here. Of course they didn’t, did they?” she said, lifting her eyebrows almost off her head and giving them funny eye movements. Toby took it to mean she wanted them to lie.

  “Well . . .” Wesa looked at Thatch for direction. But Thatch was too busy inspecting his wand.

  Toby smiled from ear to ear. “Why would swords come flying in here? Your radar thingamajig must be broken, Mrs. Inkwell. There’s nothing in here but three innocent kids having some fun with magic, right, guys?”

  “Your accent has changed considerably since we last met,” said Alexander Kirby, squinting at Toby and scrunching up his lips. He pulled at his mustache as if frustrated.

  “Oh, that,” said Mrs. Inkwell, wringing her hands together. “Tobias is my great-nephew, Alexander. I didn’t want him to get special treatment, so I asked him to pretend we weren’t related for the day. Anyway, we shan’t keep you. Do let us know if you see the swords now, won’t you? I told you it was impossible they were here, Alexander. Let’s move along.”

  “You’re not going to search the room?” He pulled his purple hat from his head and slapped it against his leg.

  “I don’t think it’s necessary. These children have nothing to do with such important artifacts. We’ve been led on a wild goose chase, I’m afraid, and will need to look elsewhere. Come along.”

  “But there were several witnesses. I shan’t stand for this, Florence. I will find those swords, and whoever has them will be prosecuted by the highest might of the Council.” Mr. Kirby’s voice screeched like chalk on a blackboard. He turned toward the three children standing before him. “Whatever you think you’re doing here, just forget it. You don’t stand a chance,” he warned them.

  “Why, Mr. Kirby, I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” said Wesa, using her most innocent voice.

  “Ms. Chang, does your mother know what trash you are consorting with?” he asked with cruel joy in his voice. He glanced at Thatch and Toby as if they were dirt under his shoe.

  “My mother supports me wholeheartedly, Mr. Kirby,” said Wesa, standing taller.

  “I heard you failed your performance again, Ms. Chang. So there is no chance of you being permitted into the Magicians’ Academy after three failures. Well, no loss to us real magicians. There is no room for untalented magicians, no matter what your bloodline. Your father was a failed magician, too, you know. Before he died.”

  Toby noticed small beads of fire emerge from Wesa’s hands. He guessed she was doing her best to hold back her rage.

  “You may leave my quarters now,” she said politely.

  Alexander Kirby swept out of the room, leaving Mrs. Inkwell behind. “Find the hat first, and keep those swords safe,” she whispered without a hint of expression on her face.

  She moved past the curtain with ease. Sticking her head back in the room, she said, “And Toby, more than your grandpa’s life depends on it.” With that, she vanished from sight.

  9

  Deadly Explosions

  Their hearts still pounding, the children fell onto the floor cushions. Toby felt exhausted after his surprise interrogation. He had expected Mrs. Inkwell to ask him how he got into the convention and instead she had helped him. She must have known he would get in somehow. Either that or Abby might have already told him he guessed.

  “Three innocent kids having fun with magic?” said Thatch, repeating Toby’s words from earlier.

  They all laughed despite the troubles they faced. “And how did you come up with crickets?”

  “I almost fainted again when they really did come out of my wand. It was the first thing that popped into my mind,” said Toby, picking up one of the live crickets, which was exploring the purple space.

  “They do complement the purple room,” said Wesa.

  “How did you even do magic?” Thatch turned his wand over in his hands.

  “I didn’t expect it to work. It was the wand. ”

  “Do you think they have magic? It’s definitely not made of plastic the way normal wands are.” Wesa ran her fingers up the sleek shiny wand she held.

  “They’re definitely magical,” said Toby. “It’s like they’re alive. Did you see the way they turned into wands as soon as Mrs. Inkwell and Kirby came into the room? Gee, I hate that guy. And his sons.” Toby felt shivers up and down his spine whenever Kirby came near him. And not the good sort.

  “These are definitely made of ebony,” said Thatch. “I can tell from the weight and feel of them. Ebony wands are really rare. I’ve read about them.”

  “The real question is why did they come to us and what are we meant to do with them? And Mrs. Inkwell knows everything! But I’m sure she tried to stop me coming here today. None of this is making much sense,” said Toby, trying to piece together everything that had happened so far.

  “She wasn’t much help, though, was she? She’s basically leaving this all up to us,” said Thatch, looking annoyed.

/>   “Wesa. That’s the second time today someone mentioned your father. What happened to him?” said Toby, thinking of his own parents who died ten years ago.

  “My father died many years ago,” said Wesa, pulling multiple tissues from her tissue box.

  “Both my parents are dead too,” said Toby. He didn’t like to talk about them, but he felt Wesa would understand since she’d lost a parent too. “But I don’t remember them. It was ten years ago, and I was only two. They died in a train explosion.”

  Wesa and Thatch looked at each other with shocked expressions.

  “Are you sure that’s how they died, Toby?” said Wesa .

  “That’s what Grandpa told me. I doubt he’d lie about something like that. Why?”

  “Wesa’s father died in an explosion as well, exactly ten years ago. Except it wasn’t a train explosion. It was on the Dark Day of Magic,” said Thatch.

  “What happened?” Toby’s breath quickened and goose bumps covered his body.

  “A magician named Strebor, very famous and well known throughout the world, planted explosions in all the convention entrances, killing hundreds of innocent illusionists. It’s one of the darkest days in history. That’s how my father died,” said Wesa, wiping the newly formed tears from her eyes.

  Toby’s heart started beating wildly. His parents had died around the same time as Wesa’s dad in a train explosion. Could Grandpa have lied to him?

  Thatch continued the explanation. “Back then, the secret entrances to the convention, which are planted in lots of different houses, were separate. The illusionists and mages used different entrance points. Whoever planted the bombs had inside help and targeted them specifically. Strebor was a mage. Rumor was that he hated illusionists and plotted to kill them all.”

  “Why is there a difference between the illusionists and the mages?” said Toby, trying to understand this strange divide.

  “All magicians, whether they are illusionists or mages, are part of the secret magicians’ code. They are allowed to stage magic performances. Everyone here is an illusionist, and to be one, you must come from a family line of illusionists. But one thousand years ago, it was discovered that some illusionists also possessed natural magic,” said Wesa.