by Elena Paige
“Nine hundred and ninety-nine years ago to be exact,” corrected Thatch.
“Right. So that’s when the new convention was formed by the Magical Council, distinguishing between illusionists and mages. Mages have real magic of some sort. We still perform all the regular illusions as well, but here at the convention, we are allowed to show off our natural talents.”
“Why does it even matter? Why can’t everyone just be a magician?” said Toby.
“Because mages think they’re better than illusionists,” said Thatch.
“That’s not true, Thatch. Not all mages are like that,” said Wesa.
“Just Strebor and Kirby, by the sounds of it,” said Toby, beginning to understand the rift that existed between the magic community and the giant chip on the mage’s shoulders. They wanted more power because they considered themselves special.
“Still, I find it a little coincidental that you’re here, and your parents died at the same time as Wesa’s dad,” said Thatch.
“What does it matter now anyway? They’re dead,” said Toby, fighting back his own tears.
“Don’t you want to know what really happened to them?” said Wesa.
“No, I don’t. I just want to find Grandpa.” Grandpa was all he knew. True, he was a little overprotective, but Toby couldn’t shake this horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that everyone he had ever loved had either vanished or died. The thought of losing Grandpa, too, scared him more than he cared to admit. Still, he felt relieved to have friends by his side for the first time ever.
“We need to find the hat. That’s what matters most—finding the people we love, who are still alive,” said Toby, shoving his golden hat back on his head with force.
“Toby’s right. We don’t have any time to waste,” said Wesa.
“But we can’t just wander around the convention stealing everyone’s hats, hoping it’s the one we’re looking for. This is a fool’s errand,” said Thatch.
“Translation, please?” said Toby.
“He means there is no way of knowing what hat we’re looking for,” said Wesa. “But I think I know someone who can help. Kirby must know about the hat if he’s after it too. And who hates Kirby more than we do?” Her face looked hopeful for the first time that day.
“Aden McDermott!” said Thatch.
Toby was puzzled. He looked from Thatch to Wesa hoping for a proper explanation.
“They are arch enemies. Always competing onstage and offstage. If anyone can help us, it will be him,” said Wesa.
“But can we trust him?” said Thatch.
“Only one way to find out!” said Wesa.
10
Aden McDermott
Toby felt the lightness in the atmosphere as they crossed back into the illusionist half of the giant round hall. He looked at the illusionists behind their stalls and wondered how many of their relatives had died so tragically ten years ago. All because they had no real magic.
“This is his stall,” said Wesa, catching Toby up on the magician’s history. “He’s always in the same place. He’s very famous, you know. He invented many of the illusions you see in this hall, including the floating candles above us. It’s just light tricks.”
Toby’s head was spinning, trying to work out what was real magic and what was simply illusion.
“Let me lead with the talking. We don’t want to tell him too much. We don’t even know if we can trust him yet,” said Thatch.
Toby agreed with Thatch. He wasn’t sure Aden McDermott was the right choice for an ally. As they approached his stall, which was swarming with people, he saw the tall disheveled magician posing for photos with fans. His bright yellow hair popped wildly from the sides of his golden hat, and his matching bow tie twirled for effect. But unlike many of the other magicians, he wasn’t wearing a black suit. Instead, he wore jeans and a T-shirt, as though he were a helper rather than a famous magician. He wasn’t even wearing a cape. He looked no match for Alexander Kirby.
“Excuse me, sir. May we have an important word with you?” said Thatch, interrupting the photo that was being taken.
“Too right, my lad. Goodness knows I need a break from all this posing. My cheekbones need a rest too. My gentile Irish face isn’t designed to smile too much. Can I interest you in a disappearing trick or a magic glass that never fills up, no matter how much liquid you pour into it?” He pointed to all the illusions for sale on his table.
“We would like to talk to you in private if we may, please,” said Wesa, smiling sweetly.
Aden walked behind his stall and leaned down with a charming manner. He flashed his perfect white teeth as he spoke to his assistant. “Stacy, my love, take a break and fetch us some hot cocoa, would you? There’s a pet.” Stacy, a middle-aged woman with pink striped glasses, glared first at Aden, then at Wesa, Thatch, and Toby as she slowly lifted herself from the table and the many people screaming to be served.
Aden didn’t even give them a glance as he moved aside the thick golden curtain behind his table and ushered them into his private quarters. Toby followed them through, heaviness in every step.
“You don’t mind inviting a mage into your room?” said Wesa, looking over at Stacy, who was crashing crockery around and breathing heavily while making their drinks.
“The more the merrier, I say. And why else would you be wearing such a gorgeous purple hat? I’ve always been envious of the purple hats. To be honest, I prefer purple to gold. You mages have much better taste than us illusionists, if you ask me.” He pushed Wesa back gently into the large golden couch in the very center of the generous space. The boys sat down next to her.
Aden relaxed into the sofa chair beside them. After serving their hot chocolates, Stacy stormed off, shaking the curtain so much Toby thought it might actually fall.
“It’s so much work, these conventions. It’s nice to take a break,” said Aden. “You don’t mind if I improve my drink a little, do you?”
He took a small metal canister from his jean pocket and poured it into his hot cocoa. “We Irish like our drink. It’s our greatest downfall, I’m afraid, or our greatest attribute. I can’t decide which.”
He placed the now empty canister on the table before them and pulled a wand from his ear. “Abracadabra,” he said casually, and hundreds of autographed photos popped out of the canister and flew across the room. They hit the heavyset golden curtain as though searching for a way out.
“Stacy will be glad for them. They’ve been selling like hotcakes,” he said, shrugging his shoulders as the smiling pictures of him found their way around the curtain at last. Noticing Wesa looking at the canister, Aden offered, “Ah yes, just an illusion, not real magic like you, but nonetheless, something of a spectacle, wouldn’t you agree? ”
“I think it’s wonderful, but no offense, sir, I don’t really care for magic. I hate it as a matter of fact.”
“Hate magic, you say? Well, how can anyone hate something that brings so much joy and excitement to people’s lives? Everyone loves magic.”
He pulled colorful scarfs from the empty canister as he spoke and handed them to Wesa, a cheeky smile on his face. Wesa’s answering smile was stiff and forced.
“Ah, but not you, I suspect. Too much pressure and not enough play? I can spot it a mile away,” said Aden, offering her a lollipop from the canister instead. He put the canister away without offering one to Toby or Thatch.
“Are we invisible?” whispered Toby to Thatch.
Thatch cleared his throat. “We’ve come to ask you about Alexander Kirby.”
“What’s the blighter up to this time?” said Aden, standing up and pacing the room.
“Do you know anything about him looking for a hat?” said Thatch.
“A hat? Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place if you want a hat. Go ahead and choose whichever you like. I can’t promise it will perform as you wish,” said Aden, pointing around the room at the many hundred of hats all over his golden carpet.
Toby
couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed the hats in this room before now. They were strewn about, some gold and some purple.
“No, sir, Mr. McDermott. I mean, do you know anything about Mr. Kirby searching for a hat?” said Thatch.
“Do call me Aden, won’t you?” he replied with a warm smile .
Toby found it hard not to trust Aden McDermott. He clearly knew nothing about what Thatch was asking him. There was no way he had anything to do with Grandpa being taken or the finding of the special hat they needed. How could this absentminded, self-absorbed magician be involved?
Toby picked up a purple hat from the disheveled floor. The hats were carelessly dropped all over the room among many interesting items, which Toby assumed were magical tricks Aden must have invented.
Three very real miniature bunnies poked their heads out of the rim of the hat Toby was holding. Hopping out, they escaped from the hat.
“Oh my!” Toby jumped back and dropped the hat.
“Ah! You found my bunny hat. I’ve been looking for that one everywhere. Hard to find since it looks like all the others. Don’t let looks deceive you, children”—he picked up the hat—“magic is everywhere.” Toby chased the three bunnies that had surprised him a moment ago. They disappeared under a pile of cloaks in the corner.
“What does this thing do?” asked Toby, picking up what looked like a gun, except it had a wide spout at the muzzle. He pointed to the curtain surrounding them.
“Toby, stop!” called Wesa. “Sorry, Mr. McDermott. He’s new to magic.”
“Not at all, my dear. He’s welcome to try anything he likes. Now please, children, call me Aden,” he reminded them.
Toby pulled the trigger and was most impressed when a light floated out of the funnel and spun around the room, extinguishing all the electronic lights, including the candles floating above their heads, plunging them into total darkness. “ Very cool!” came Toby’s voice through the darkness.
“Well done, my boy. Could I trouble you to turn the lights back on now? Just press the trigger again,” said Aden, giggling as much as Toby was.
Thatch looked at Toby with the most annoyed face Toby had ever seen. Wesa merely laughed.
“You are so curious, aren’t you? How strange all this must seem to you,” said Aden, taking the gun from Toby’s hands and placing it down next to their mugs of hot chocolate.
“Mr. McDermott, I mean Aden, is Mr. Kirby a friend of yours?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say we’re archenemies, but if you count the several times he’s spread false lies in the papers about my performances being rather ordinary, we’re not exactly friends. And the time he stole one of my entire acts with the help of his spies. Not to mention when he tried to entice my dear assistant, Stacy, to come work for him. Now listen here, lass,” he said, taking Wesa’s hands and sitting her back down in his chair.
His face softened as did his voice. “There’s something I want to talk to you about. I don’t know if you know this, but I know who you are. And, well, I was very close friends with your father, my dear. I’m quite touched you’re here visiting me. I’ve seen you many times from afar but didn’t want to intrude. You remind me very much of him.”
Wesa’s eyes filled with tears. “You knew my father?”
“Oh yes! We went to the Academy together. He was just a plain old illusionist like me. Not a mage as you are. We were firm friends. And he would have been so proud of you. It broke my heart to hear you speak of magic with such disdain. Don’t hate magic, my dear. There is good and bad magic, but you have been gifted with very real magic and it would make me, and your father, I’m sure, most pleased if you treated your magic with honor. You have a very special gift.”
Wesa burst into tears. She stood up and hugged Aden McDermott. “Thank you, Mr. McDermott, Aden. Thank you for your kind words about my father. It means the world to me.”
“Why do girls always cry?” said Toby as he continued to rummage through the odd assortment of hats and objects.
“I mean every word. Now tuck into your hot chocolates, children. I am just going to check on Stacy so she doesn’t get cross with me. I’ll be right back. Excuse me.” He tripped on some of his hats as he went.
“Freaky how he knew your dad,” said Toby as he pulled his face out of another hat.
“A little too convenient, don’t you think?” said Thatch.
“Not at all. It makes complete sense to me. Why else would he say so?” asked Wesa as she dried her face.
“I don’t trust him. He knows more than he’s letting on,” said Thatch.
“Rubbish. He’s so sweet and innocent. Sure, a bit disorganized, but his room looks pretty much like mine does, and I’m dependable,” said Toby.
“Are you? So far, all we’ve accomplished is distraction after distraction. At this rate, we’ll never find the hat in time,” said Thatch, flicking his lucky coin in the air.
“I think it’s obvious we can trust Mr. McDermott. I mean Aden. He’s definitely a good guy,” said Wesa.
“We don’t know that for sure,” said Thatch.
“I think we do know that. He hates Kirby. We hate Kirby. We’re clearly on the same side,” said Toby, picking up his tenth hat and looking inside it to discover its magic.
“Guys!” He waved Thatch and Wesa to him with one hand, while holding the hat with the other. He felt his face muscles start to twitch.
“Distracted by another hat?” said Thatch, sounding increasingly irate.
“The wasp-panther thing! It’s in this hat. Get over here quick before it escapes again.”
Thatch and Wesa ran toward the hat, and then peered into it cautiously.
A small voice emerged from inside the hat. “How good to have your attention once again.”
“I could squash you right now,” said Toby, scrunching up his face at it. “You stung my hand over one hundred times!”
“I’m sorry for that. But you gave me no choice. I could turn back into a panther and eat you if you prefer,” buzzed the wasp in its human voice.
“What do you want? Give me back my dad!” said Thatch, clenching his fists.
“When the three of you touch the correct hat, it will glow green. This is the hat you must bring me. Your father is safe. They all are. For now. Bring me the hat I need, and they’ll be returned without a scratch on them. I promise.”
“As if we’d ever trust you!” said Wesa, flicking at the wasp.
“You have no choice. And you’ll do as I say.” The wasp rose out of the hat and flitted near Wesa’s face.
Toby swiped at it with the hat.
Thatch, meanwhile, stood there silently. “Why us? How can three strangers who’ve never met before be able to activate this hat? I’m not even a magician.”
The wasp stopped annoying Wesa and floated slowly through the air toward Thatch.
“You are not who you think you are. You are the protectors of the hat. Now time is running out. Find the hat,” said the wasp, flying away from them. As it reached the curtain its final words were, “And be careful who you trust. Not everyone is who they seem to be.”
11
A Clever Disguise
Toby picked his cup up for the first time, surprised it was still hot. He took a sip. His face lit up as the softest, sweetest marshmallows floated up from the depths of the cocoa out of nowhere and into his mouth. Whether illusion or real magic, he didn’t care.
But he couldn’t shake the wasp’s last words, to be careful who they trusted. He glanced at Thatch and Wesa, who looked equally nervous and confused. Thatch played with his coin, and Wesa stirred her hot chocolate over and over again.
“What do you think? Should we trust Aden?” said Toby.
“I think we have to,” said Wesa.
“I don’t agree. We don’t know anything about him,” said Thatch, raising his voice and dropping his coin.
“We know he’s a friend of my father’s and my father was good,” said Wesa.
“Was he? How can we kno
w for sure? Mrs. Inkwell knows about the hat; Kirby knows about the hat. Who else knows? This thing is bigger than just the three of us. And we’ve no real idea who’s good and who isn’t,” said Thatch.
Wesa looked at the ground as she took in his words.
“Thatch is right. We don’t know who we can trust,” said Toby, rushing his words. “But telling Aden about the hat will tell us if he’s on our side or not. From what I’ve seen, he’s a bit of an open book. We’ve nothing to lose. And besides, why should we believe anything that wasp says?”
The curtain once again parted as Aden McDermott strolled casually back into the room. “Sorry about the delay there, children. I got caught up with a lady who bought an entire box of my beautification illusion. How is that hot cocoa?” He wiped the perspiration from his head and relaxed back in his chair.
“We need your help with something,” said Toby, nodding to the others.
“Some very important things have been taken from us. The only way to get them back is to find a hat. A certain hat,” continued Wesa.
“Before Mr. Kirby or his sons do,” said Thatch.
“Well, anyone who is an enemy of Alexander Kirby is certainly a friend of mine. How can I help?”
Wesa and Thatch breathed out heavily in relief. Toby gave them an I-told-you-so look, but he could tell Thatch wasn’t convinced.
“The hat we need to find has magical powers. And we are the only ones who can make it work,” said Toby.
“He means we can activate it. But we don’t know what it can do, or where to find it,” said Wesa.
Aden listened intently to every word, not interrupting or reacting. Finally, he spoke calmly and softly. “You know I love hats more than any other magical thing in the world. Why, it seems fated that you would come to me to ask for help. I think you ought to start right here and test all these hats. Don’t you agree?” He looked genuinely happy to help.