The Bootlace Magician

by Cassie Beasley

  He stepped through, Bowler and Firesleight following him.

  “I’ll reopen it in an hour,” said Porter. “Be back then.”

  Micah’s last glimpse before the Door slid shut was of Geoffrey in his tailcoat, pointing down the street, with Firesleight in her new black costume and a bare-chested Bowler flanking him.

  “They are not going to blend into a retirement community,” he said.

  The Lightbender smiled faintly. “Ah, well. We magicians do like to make an entrance.”

  Waiting for the strange trio to return was excruciating, despite Porter and the Lightbender doing their best to take Micah’s mind off things. And when the Door finally opened again, the Lightbender had to grab the back of Micah’s coat to remind him he wasn’t supposed to fling himself through it.

  “. . . can’t fathom it!” Bowler was saying as the patio appeared through the glass. “How can anyone not like such a good lad? She’s completely—”

  “Are you all okay?!” Micah cried. He was glad Bowler thought he was a good lad, but he was more interested in making sure none of them had been attacked by dire hawks or his great-aunt.

  “We’re fine,” said Firesleight, but her face was troubled. When she stepped into the warehouse, Micah saw she was holding an envelope. It had his name on the front.

  Chintzy had been right.

  Porter shut the Door, and Micah held out his hand for the letter.

  “You probably don’t need to read it,” said Firesleight, her fingers clenched around the envelope, wrinkling the ivory paper. “I mean, we questioned your great-aunt. She’s totally fine. Just had a little visit from Victoria. Geoffrey’s sure we know everything she does.”

  “Right,” said Bowler. “Everything’s fine in Arizona right now. Nothing to worry about.”

  Micah stared at them. “It’s my letter,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I read it?”

  When she finally gave it to him, he knew why.

  THIS MESSAGE IS INTENDED FOR:

  Micah Tuttle

  Ward of the Lightbender

  Circus Mirandus

  PLEASE DO NOT REPLY

  Micah,

  I hope this letter finds you in good health.

  I consider it my duty to inform you that your grandmother, Victoria, visited my home this past Thursday. She wished to speak to you, and she was under the impression that I had gained custody of you following Ephraim’s death.

  I informed her that you are now in the care of people more suited to your nature, that we do not keep in touch, and that I do not know where such people might be found.

  She flew away.

  I do not recommend you seek her out, and should she find her way to you, I advise you not to associate with her.

  She is a noxious individual, and she should not be allowed around children.

  This is all I know. I have no further interest in the matter, and I do not believe she will ever come back here. There is no need for you, or anyone else, to contact me.

  Gertrudis Tuttle

  * * *

  The adults kept telling Micah to calm down, but he couldn’t.

  It was him. Victoria had attacked the circus because of him.

  He was taking in great big gulps of air, and there was a ringing in his ears like he’d been hit on the head. “It’s all my fault!” he said, a little hysterically. “She’s doing all of this because of me!”

  Firesleight sighed. “I knew I should have burned that letter.”

  “He’s spinnin’ himself into a tizzy,” Geoffrey said, leaning back against the sliding glass door.

  The Lightbender grabbed Micah’s shoulders. “Micah, calm down! For heaven’s sake. The attacks on the circus had nothing to do with you.”

  “They must have!” said Micah. “The letter! It says she’s looking for me!”

  “You’re being ridiculous,” Porter said, exasperated. “If you just think about what you’re saying—”

  “Porter, you have to send me away! So that everyone will be safe. You can send me to Antarctica!”

  “The penguins don’t want you there,” said Porter.

  The Lightbender leaned down until he and Micah were almost nose to nose. “It’s extraordinarily obvious that the attacks were unrelated to your presence here.”

  “How—”

  Geoffrey rolled his eyes. “Did you even read that letter?”

  “I read it!” Micah said wildly. “Victoria went to Arizona because she wanted me! She wants to find . . . oh . . .”

  “Exactly,” said Geoffrey.

  Micah felt his face heat. He was being ridiculous. “She thought I was in Arizona. She didn’t even know I lived here, so the attacks can’t have anything to do with me.”

  “That is correct,” said the Lightbender, letting go of Micah’s shoulders. “Unfortunately, her visit to your aunt brings up another question.”

  The mood in the room darkened as all the adults exchanged worried glances.

  Micah knew what they were thinking. He was thinking it, too.

  “If it’s not my fault she attacked the circus,” he said, “then what does she want me for now?”

  MEETING

  Micah shut himself in his room for the rest of the afternoon, hoping the tent fabric would prevent any mind reading. He was tangled up inside—confused and angry and scared all at once.

  “I’m fine,” he said, when the Lightbender came to check on him. “I just need to be alone. I’m fine.”

  Probably, he thought, it’s obvious you’re not fine if you say it twice in a row.

  “All right,” the Lightbender said quietly. “We can talk later.”

  As soon as the illusionist left, Micah sat on the floor, reading and rereading the letter from Aunt Gertrudis. Although, she hadn’t called herself Aunt Gertrudis. Maybe she didn’t want Micah to either.

  He willed the letter to give him answers, and when it didn’t, he wadded it up and threw it as hard as he could across the room.

  It bounced off his chest of drawers and landed in the corner, on top of the coiled ropes that had once been his tree house ladder. Micah hadn’t been able to fix it yet. It wasn’t that he couldn’t tie the knots; it was that the knots didn’t mean anything to him when he did. The ladder, and the knots in it, had been a gift from his grandfather. Micah wanted those knots back. Not ones he’d tied himself.

  He crawled over to the rope ladder. Maybe today, he thought. Maybe today I can fix this one thing, and it will be like he’s here with me.

  But it wasn’t like that, and Micah ended up lying on his back with the ropes clutched to his chest, staring up at the ceiling. A few minutes later, twinkling stars appeared on the fabric. They swirled into shapes—frogs, people, trees.

  The Lightbender was trying to make him feel better.

  Micah watched the constellations shift, and he imagined his great-aunt, her hair pulled back in a painfully tight bun like always, opening her front door to find Victoria standing there.

  Micah felt sorry for Aunt Gertrudis. Her letter hadn’t been warm, but it showed she cared at least enough to warn him.

  She flew away, Micah thought. That was what the letter had said.

  What must it have felt like to look up and see the Bird Woman flying, when all those years ago she had let Gertrudis fall?

  Half an hour passed, and the swirling lights on the ceiling winked out. A moment later, sparkling letters appeared in their place.

  MEETING IN THE MANAGER’S OFFICE

  Micah frowned. Was the Lightbender only letting him know another meeting had been called? Or was Micah actually being invited?

  He waited a minute, but the letters didn’t fade.

  I am being invited, he realized. He scrambled out of his room, almost running into his guardian, who’d been standing in fron
t of the seam.

  “I thought that would get your attention,” the Lightbender said mildly. “Did you want to come to—”

  “Yes!” said Micah. “I’m ready! Is the meeting about me?”

  “Somewhat. I thought you wouldn’t want to be left out.”

  * * *

  Rosebud and Porter were standing by the aquarium when Micah and the Lightbender entered the menagerie.

  Fish bashed his tail into the glass when he spotted Micah, and Rosebud gave the Idea a curious look. “It’s grown again.”

  The adults all took their shoes off at the door before entering the manager’s office, which made Micah feel guilty for all the times he hadn’t done it himself. He left his sneakers by the Lightbender’s boots before he stepped through the seam.

  Inside the office, Mr. Head, the Inventor, Geoffrey, and Bowler sat waiting.

  Micah decided it was best not to ask what seat he ought to take in case it was an amateur move for an important-meeting attendee. He headed toward a chair across the circle from the manager, looking around to see what the others were doing in case there was some special etiquette he ought to follow.

  If so, the magicians weren’t giving it away. Rosebud sat tall and straight, her hands folded in her lap. Bowler had plopped himself down onto the sofa beside the Inventor. Geoffrey and the Lightbender slouched in chairs by the manager, and Porter went to stand with his back to the fireplace.

  “What have you learned?” Mr. Head asked, once everyone had settled.

  “Not as much as we wanted to,” Bowler said.

  “Victoria knows Micah exists, and she assumed he would be with his great-aunt,” Geoffrey said, nodding at Micah.

  She’s been checking in on the family over the years, Micah realized. If she hadn’t been, she wouldn’t even have known he’d been born. The notion of Victoria lurking near his house while he grew up, watching him and his grandfather from above, made him feel like insects were crawling over him.

  “Gertrudis was shaken up to see someone she thought was long dead,” Geoffrey added. “I’ll give her credit for comin’ to her senses after the fact and sendin’ that letter. But it was done half out of guilt. She gave away more information than she should’ve, and she realized it after the Bird Woman flew off.”

  He glanced at the Lightbender, and the illusionist turned to Micah. “It seems Victoria had a lot of questions about your magic.”

  “She has some sense of its magnitude?” the manager said sharply.

  Micah leaned forward in his seat. He wanted Mr. Head to explain what he meant by magnitude, but Geoffrey spoke up instead.

  “Seems like Victoria didn’t know what kind of magic Micah had inherited at all.”

  “Well, Aunt Gertrudis couldn’t have told her anything about that,” said Micah. “I couldn’t talk about magic around her without starting a fight. She’s spent her whole life trying to pretend like it doesn’t exist.”

  “What an unfortunate point of view,” Mr. Head murmured.

  Bowler nodded in agreement. “All your great-aunt knew for sure was that you tied knots,” he said to Micah. “She told Victoria that, and Victoria didn’t like it at all. Kept asking Gertrudis questions about birds and how they behaved around you.”

  “Ah, of course,” said the Inventor. “Victoria wants an ally.”

  Everyone turned to her. She had a thoughtful look on her face. “Perhaps I should say an assistant instead of an ally. Victoria was never one to share power, but I imagine she is regretting that now.”

  “What do you mean?” the Lightbender asked.

  “Surely you’ve read the Sisterhood’s latest reports?” she said. “So far, they’ve spotted three different dire hawks, golden swans, phoenixes, plague ravens. Not to mention the less dangerous species. She’s collected hundreds of magical birds. It must have taken her years.”

  Micah sat back in his seat. He’d known Victoria had a large flock, but he hadn’t known it was that large.

  “Perhaps she can direct a flock that size and track us down and deal with The Mighty Conflagration at the same time. But it cannot be simple for her. The dire hawks alone would have given her trouble in the old days. They’re intelligent, and they are too willful to be easily controlled.”

  The Lightbender frowned. “She hoped Micah had inherited her own magic, you mean. So that she could persuade him to help her.”

  Micah was fiercely glad that he couldn’t fly or mind control innocent birds. “Well, I wouldn’t help her,” he said. “Not ever. She’s just been wasting a lot of time.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t,” Rosebud said. “But Victoria never did have any respect for children. No doubt she thought you would be more easily bribed, or bossed around, than an adult.”

  The Lightbender was rubbing his temples. “I suppose this is welcome news in a way. If Victoria is seeking help from a grandson she has never troubled herself to meet, it must mean she hasn’t been able to find allies in other quarters.”

  “Not surpisin’,” Geoffrey grunted. “Nobody with sense is goin’ to pick a fight against Circus Mirandus just because Victoria wants a little revenge. The other unpleasant sorts are smart enough to stay out of our way.”

  “What unpleasant sorts?” Micah asked.

  “Magicians are only people, duckling,” said Rosebud, rubbing a hand over her scalp, smudging the delicate painted violets. “Good and bad and everything in between.”

  “We try to keep an eye on the bad ones,” said Porter. “They make fewer messes when they feel like they’re being watched.”

  Bowler laughed. “It’s Porter’s hobby! He pops Doors open near troublemakers, scares them half to death, then slams the Doors in their faces before they can retaliate.”

  “It’s not exactly a hobby,” Porter mused. “More like a calling.”

  “I’m not one of the bad ones, though,” said Micah. He was still offended that Victoria, who didn’t even know him, had imagined he might be on board with an evil plot. “Even if I had never met any of you before, I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

  “You’re assuming she would have given you a choice,” Porter said. “She might have harmed Gertrudis or Jenny. Or threatened to feed you to the drakling.”

  “I’d like to feed her to the drakling,” Bowler muttered.

  “I’d advise against it,” said the Inventor. “I’m not certain, but I imagine consuming a powerful magician would be almost the same to the drakling as eating a unicorn.”

  “So why hasn’t it attacked Victoria?” the Lightbender asked.

  “Firesleight believes this one is unusually smart,” said the Inventor. “And, of course, she can fly, and it cannot. Yet.”

  “You can tell it’s smart by the name,” said Micah. “Can’t you? The Mighty Conflagration is a lot more impressive than most drakling names.”

  The Inventor gave him an approving smile.

  Porter rolled his eyes. “Of course Victoria had to pick the dragon with delusions of grandeur to match her own.”

  “Maybe . . .” Micah said hesitantly, “if it’s really smart, could we talk to it? And explain to it that we’re good people and it should leave us alone?”

  Everyone stared at him.

  “No,” said Mr. Head finally. “Though I appreciate the nobility of that thought, Micah Tuttle, I’m afraid dragons are as close to irredeemably wicked as a species can be. Once grown, they take great pleasure in violence. And they eat endlessly, gorging themselves until all other magical life in an area is extinguished. A dragon would consume every soul at this circus if it had its way.”

  Geoffrey nodded. “And then it would go lookin’ for dessert.”

  EAVESDROPPERS

  A few evenings later, Micah sat across from the Light-bender at suppertime, picking at a plate of chicken curry. The food was as delicious as always, but Micah couldn’t seem to
work up an appetite.

  “Why do people like Victoria get to be magicians?” he asked, setting down his fork. “Why someone like her and not someone like Jenny?”

  Micah didn’t expect the Lightbender to reply. The illusionist had that distant, exhausted look on his face again. But he blinked a few times and said, “Do you remember the answer you gave me? When I first asked you what you thought magic was?”

  Micah did. It had been the afternoon Grandpa Ephraim died. Micah and the Lightbender had been riding to the circus on Big Jean’s broad back, and he hadn’t known yet that he would soon be living there.

  “I said it must be what’s inside of people like you. I said I thought magic must be the part of you that was too big to keep to yourself.”

  “A fine description,” the Lightbender said. “And insightful. But there is greatness within everyone, whether they are good or bad, young or old. And there are almost as many ways for that greatness to emerge as there are people. Sometimes the greatness shows itself as magic. But people also reach out and touch the world with their creativity, their intelligence, their patience, their sense of humor.”

  Micah thought about that. “Jenny’s really smart,” he said. “Is that like her magic?”

  “If we are defining magic as something one puts into the world, then certainly,” said the Lightbender. “And I would add that Jenny Mendoza’s kindness and empathy are remarkable, especially for one so young. She has placed herself in difficult situations, many times, to be a good friend to you.”

  Micah knew that. Jenny hadn’t believed in magic at all to start with, but she had been willing to help Micah find Circus Mirandus anyway. And she’d taken some pretty big risks to do it.

  The Lightbender met Micah’s eyes, suddenly serious. “I hope you will never fall into the trap of believing your ability to tie knots is the most important part of you. It is a common failing among magicians. Your talent is a tool you can use, but it is not the only tool you possess. Do you see?”