“What?” Joey tugged at his collar, checking his neck for paint. He turned toward Leanora, asking her with his eyes if she saw anything. She told him there was nothing there.
“That was the strange part,” Ali said. “One second it was there, and the next, it was gone. If you saw that, you’d wonder what was going on too.”
Joey massaged his shoulder, wondering the same thing. The spot where Scarlett had tagged him was still tender a month later. Joey had seen splotches of paint come and go around his neck, just as Ali had described, but he had always told himself the paint splatter and the soreness in his shoulder was all in his head. If Ali had seen it on him when he was a camel… Joey didn’t know what that meant, but he didn’t like it.
Shazad stopped at the top of the staircase and turned around. “Where’s Mom right now?” he asked Ali. “Check the Tiger’s Eye.”
Ali peered into the large orange gemstone. “She’s in the library.”
“How does she look? Let me see.” Ali handed Shazad the jewel. He held it up to his own eye. What he saw there did nothing to lift his spirits. “She’s going to kill me.”
“She’s not going to kill you,” Leanora said. “Is she?”
Shazad said nothing.
Leanora turned to Ali, who shook his head with a somber look. “No one’s ever messed up this bad before. Not ever.”
“Is there anything we can do?” Joey asked.
“You can say as little as possible,” Shazad said. “Let me do the talking. I’m in enough trouble already. Let’s not make it any worse.” Joey and Leanora agreed to follow Shazad’s lead and wished him luck with his mom. They all went inside together.
Joey was blown away by the interior of Shazad’s home. The entryway led into a vast, open-air courtyard with a small pool in the center and a giant moving sculpture floating above it. The sculpture was a formation of crystal cubes, seemingly identical to the ones that made up the rest of the building, except they were in constant motion. Hovering in midair, they unfolded continuously from a central point like fireworks exploding over and over again. They didn’t pause to form any recognizable shape, but rather kept revolving in a random, hypnotic, and fluid movement. Joey managed to pry his eyes away from the sculpture long enough to take in the rest of the expansive space. It was filled with comfortable furniture, potted plants, and even trees that rose out of the floor to help shade the courtyard during the day. The interior walls of the house towered over the group, lined with windows and railed walkways, but no one was looking down at them. All was quiet and still. Every surface was gray and bluish white, and smooth and flat as a sheet of ice. On the floors, a row of glowing crystal cubes ran out from the pool and the floating sculpture, lighting the way to covered passageways on the left and right and more stairs up ahead.
Joey whistled low. “And I thought this place was impressive on the outside.”
“Did your family build all this?” Leanora asked Shazad, looking around, clearly impressed.
“We grew it,” Shazad replied. “Everything you see here started out with a crystal seed no larger than a sugar cube. My ancestors planted it here a thousand years ago. As our family got bigger, so did our home.”
“How many people live here?” Joey asked.
“It depends on how you look at it,” Shazad replied. “Jorako is more than one oasis. There’s a whole network of them placed throughout the desert. Ours is just the main hub.”
Joey thought about the people he saw disappearing into portals earlier that evening, which made more sense now. The idea that there were more hidden, magical places like this in the world blew him away. As they made their way up the steps onto a wide concourse, Shazad explained the number of people living in his house varied but that at any given time there could be up to a hundred members of his family there.
“It’s so quiet.” Joey heard only his sneakers squeaking as they walked down the dark, empty hallway. “Where is everybody?”
“It’s a big house,” Ali reminded him. “Also, it is the middle of the night.”
“Good point,” Joey said, lowering his voice.
“Some people are sleeping, but luckily, most of the family isn’t here right now,” Shazad whispered. “We have people all over the world, all the time.”
“Doing what?” Leanora asked. “They’re not working as magicians.”
“No,” Shazad confirmed. “Most of them are historians. Researching lost civilizations is a good way to find magical artifacts. That’s what we do here.” Shazad gestured to a gallery outside the library, which was just up ahead. “Have a look.”
Joey and Leanora approached the items on display in silent reverence. Even the spectacle of Shazad’s home had not prepared them for this. It was like a museum exhibit filled with magical objects, all of them much older than anything Redondo had left behind. They were not the kind of things Redondo would have used onstage to hide magic in plain sight. They were more like pieces of history. Joey saw a Greek soldier’s helmet labeled the HELM OF DARKNESS. He recognized the name. Joey remembered reading about it in a myth about the Greek hero Perseus. Wearing the helmet had rendered Perseus invisible so he could escape Medusa’s sisters after slaying her. If the helmet was real, did that mean the story was true? He examined everything with endless fascination, finding more relics of Greek, Norse, Celtic, and Egyptian mythology. Despite everything Joey knew about magic, these were things he had never believed in. He had certainly never expected to see them in person. “Shazad, are these things for real?”
“Of course they are,” Shazad said. “We wouldn’t keep them here otherwise.”
Joey wandered around the room, rattling off an impossible inventory: “A magic carpet, Aladdin’s lamp, the Hand of Midas…”
“You don’t want to touch that,” advised Ali.
Joey nodded and kept going, reading as he went. “Freyja’s cloak… wasn’t Freyja Thor’s mother? You don’t have Mjolnir on a shelf somewhere, do you? Mjolnir was Thor’s hammer,” Joey added to Leanora. She gave him a look that made it clear she didn’t need to be told. “These things… they’re are all from ancient myths and legends,” Joey said in wonder.
“Not myths,” Shazad said. “Just old stories. People used to think they were gifts from ‘the Gods,’ but really, they were just magic.”
“Just magic, right,” said Joey ironically.
“How did you get all these?” Leanora asked.
“My family found them. We saved them. Brought them here.”
“This is incredible,” Joey said, marveling at the collection. “You’re like magic archaeologists.”
“Shouldn’t these things be locked up in a vault somewhere?” Leanora asked.
“We don’t need to lock it up,” Ali replied. “Only our family is allowed here. If you can’t trust your family, who can you trust?”
“I was about to ask your brother the same thing.”
The voice came from a woman at the edge of the gallery. It was Shazad’s mother. She was dressed in her nightclothes: a robe, silk pajamas, and slippers. She had one hand firmly planted on her hip and a steaming teacup in the other. When Joey saw the look on her face, he froze as if petrified by a spell. He knew that look. Every kid in the world knew that look. Mothers everywhere had a natural ability to deliver a lecture with their eyes, and Shazad’s mom was no exception. The stony expression on her face asked a hundred questions, chief among them, “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?” Shazad appeared to turn green as his mother glared at him.
“Hi, Mom,” he said, sounding dejected.
That comment earned Shazad another pointed look. His mother tilted her head to the side and crooked an eyebrow in a way that said, “Don’t ‘Hi, Mom’ me.” She pointed over her shoulder into the library. “Inside. Now. And keep your voice down.”
* * *
A few minutes later Shazad and his mother were seated in the library. Joey and Leanora hung back at the doorway with Ali. Shazad’s mother had held up a
hand signaling for them to stay put while she dealt with her eldest son in private. It was a conversation Joey was happy to stay out of. As he waited by the door, Joey took stock of the library. The room had the same glass walls and flooring as everything else he had seen in Jorako, but the library was special. Nearly every flat surface, including the ceiling, had built-in shelves packed tight with books. Joey looked up and saw a sea of titles defying gravity above him, waiting to be taken down and read. Modern bestsellers and historical texts were up there, side by side with ancient tomes that Joey could only assume were lost books of magic, fables, and folklore. Joey would have liked to leaf through a few of them and learn their secrets, but he knew better than that. He wasn’t going to touch the books. They were in enough trouble already.
Shazad and his mother were seated across from each other in a quiet reading area. At the moment it was very quiet. Shazad’s mother had yet to say anything to him. Joey figured she was too angry to speak. She was looking at her son the same way Joey’s own mother had looked at him back when he was seven years old and had drawn on the carpet with a Sharpie. Shazad stared at his shoes, waiting for his lecture and punishment. It was an awkward thing to witness, even from a distance.
“What have you done?” Shazad’s mother asked at last. She spoke in a harsh whisper, but her voice carried across the quiet library just the same. Joey was grateful she wasn’t screaming, but he had a feeling that for Shazad, the cutting disappointment in his mother’s voice was worse than being yelled at.
Shazad looked up. “I can explain.”
“Can you?” His mother pounced, sounding intrigued. “Oh, good. That makes me feel better. I’m glad you have an ‘explanation’ for breaking the single most important rule we have in our family. This place is a refuge for magic, Shazad. That’s a sacred responsibility. No one comes here without permission. No one. You know that.”
Shazad slumped, his eyes turning back toward the floor. “I know that.”
“Even the best security measures are only as good as the people who enforce them. Our vigilance protects us from the Invisible Hand. If they could find us, they would come for us. They’d try to take everything we have—everything we’ve worked so hard to save.” Shazad’s mother waved at the gallery outside the library. “In the long history of Jorako, no one has ever snuck anyone in like this, and the first one to do it is my son?” She turned away. “No! You’re no son of mine.”
Ouch, Joey thought.
The words were like a sharp pencil poking Shazad in the ribs. “Are you going to tell Dad about this?” he asked in a tiny voice.
“Your father and I don’t keep secrets from each other,” his mother replied matter-of-factly. “Is there any reason he shouldn’t know? Any reason the entire family shouldn’t know? Other than my own everlasting embarrassment, that is.”
“I didn’t mean to come here,” Shazad said. “It wasn’t my intention. Everything just happened so fast.”
“You told your father you hiked through the desert for hours this afternoon. You had all day to think about what you were doing.”
“That was after we’d already landed here. After that, I didn’t know what else to do.”
Shazad’s mother narrowed her eyes and drank the last of her tea. She set the cup down on a side table next to her chair. “I’m not sure I understand, but I can’t wait to hear what led you to believe that violating the security of our home was your only option.” Shazad opened his mouth to explain, but his mother shushed him, pushing a sharp burst of air through her teeth. She glanced at Joey and Leanora by the doorway and sighed. “First things first. We don’t often entertain guests at this hour, but that doesn’t mean we forget our manners. I’m not sure if people who smuggle themselves into our home posing as animals count as guests, but regardless of invitation, I am their host. Did you offer your friends shai?”
“No,” Shazad reluctantly admitted. His mother seemed oddly stunned by this apparent breach of etiquette.
“He gave us ghorayebah and zalabya,” Joey called out from the door.
Shazad’s mother closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What kind of a Hassan are you, Shazad?”
Shazad moved his hand back and forth in a cut-off motion beneath his chin, telling Joey to stop helping.
“Shai is tea,” Ali said, translating for Joey.
“Sometimes known as ‘duty,’ ” his mother said, getting up. “As in the bare minimum a host is obligated to offer visitors.” She crossed the room toward an ornate tea set that was laid out on a nearby tray. “Come in. Sit,” she said with a grudging edge in her voice, even as she poured tea for Joey and Leanora. “However you came to this oasis… whatever your negative influence on my son, you are in my home. And the most basic rules of hospitality will not be ignored in this place.” She turned around a moment later, holding a hot cup of tea in each hand. “Speaking of which… Shazad, are you planning to introduce me to your friends at some point?”
Shazad grimaced and looked at Joey and Leanora. “Guys, this is my mother, Kamilah Hassan.” Turning back to his mother, he gestured to Leanora. “Mom, this is—”
“Leanora Valkov,” his mother cut in. “Of the Nomadik traveling clan of magicians.”
“Formerly of Freedonya,” Leanora added as Shazad’s mother handed her a teacup. “Thank you.”
Shazad’s mother nodded. “I’m familiar with the story of Freedonya, and your family. I believe your people are somewhere in England right now?”
Leanora blinked, thrown by the fact that Shazad’s mother was privy to such information. “Yes, that’s… that’s right,” she stammered.
Shazad’s mother had a knowing smile. “We like to keep tabs on the world’s remaining free magic when and where we can. Although I often wonder how much longer the Nomadiks will qualify, going around putting on shows… drawing attention to themselves.”
“No one’s caught us yet,” Leanora said, taking a seat next to Shazad.
“No, not yet,” Shazad’s mother agreed. “Does your family know you are here?”
“I didn’t even know I’d be here until this morning,” Leanora replied.
Shazad’s mother made a face, accepting the answer as satisfactory. “Your people knew where to find us long ago, but they haven’t come back. The Nomadiks know how to keep a secret. I’m not worried about you.” Shazad’s mother shifted her focus to Joey. “You, on the other hand…,” she began, handing him his tea.
“This is Joey,” Shazad said.
“Joey Kopecky.” Shazad’s mother said Joey’s name in a “we meet at last” kind of way.
Joey raised his teacup, as if toasting Shazad’s mother. “It’s nice to meet you.” He was nervous and the words came out sounding more like a question. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he added, trying to recover.
“I’ve heard about you, too. You’re the one who doesn’t want to let us keep the Majestic Theatre’s relics here in Jorako.”
Joey took a seat, not knowing how to respond. He didn’t want to say anything else to escalate the situation. It was bad enough without any help from him. The way Shazad’s mom was looking at Joey made him wish he had an invisibility cloak. He’d nearly opened up his backpack to give her the Finale Mask as a peace offering, when Leanora spoke up in his defense.
“It’s not just Joey,” she said. “We all have to agree.”
“So I’m told,” his mother replied. “You all think it’s not enough to just save these items. We have to do something with them as well. Remind me, how did that work out with Houdini’s wand?” A quick sideways glance at Shazad admonished him for not being the one to win the wand from Redondo, but Shazad’s mother saved her true contempt for what Joey had done with the wand in her son’s place. “You’re the one who lost the wand, aren’t you? The greatest and most powerful known magical artifact, lost because of your lack of imagination. And yet you think you know better what to do with magical items than people who have researched, uncovered, and protected t
hem for hundreds of years. Why are you here? Did you come to test our magic? To see if Jorako is worthy of safeguarding the relics Redondo left you?” She looked pointedly at Shazad. “You let your friends talk you into this?”
“No one talked me into anything,” Shazad said.
“What did happen, then? What’s this about?”
Joey’s heart went out to Shazad as he watched him wilt under his mother’s stern gaze. “It’s hard to explain,” he said.
“Actually, it’s not,” Leanora cut in. “It’s just a long story.”
“Lea, let me—”
“The short version is, it was this place or death,” Leanora said, cutting across Shazad. “Those were our two options. We’re here because Shazad saved our lives.”
That got Shazad’s mother’s attention. Joey actually thought he saw a touch of pride creep into her face, softening her expression slightly. She leaned back in her chair and tented her fingers. “Go on.”
With momentum on her side, Leanora jumped into the story before anyone else could say anything. She started with the noise they had heard in the theater. The singing that had led them to the cottage and the mysterious woman who had aged decades during their conversation. She told Shazad’s mom about the three questions they had been limited to, how the woman was protecting the theater, and the way she had walked out on them, casually abandoning them in the Himalayas. Joey chimed in, explaining that they’d nearly passed out from oxygen deprivation and frozen to death, but Shazad carried them to safety. No one said anything about the Staff of Sorcero.
“When we ended up in the desert, he saved us again by taking us here,” Leanora said. “He wasn’t happy about it, but he did it. We didn’t want to intrude. We just didn’t see any other way.”
Through it all, Shazad’s mother listened with rapt attention. “Is this true?” she asked her son when the story was over.
“We save things in our family,” Shazad said. “I couldn’t just save myself. What else could I do?”
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