by Obert Skye
“What’s that mean?” Clark asked.
“That my mom was smart.”
“We already knew that.”
Ozzy found a few more mentions of his parents as well as the picture that Labyrinth had shown him.
“I don’t want to be that bird again, but do you think that maybe instead of wizardry, Rin the Off-White just did an internet search?”
“It’s possible.”
Ozzy typed in.
Are wizards real?
There were hundreds of articles claiming that wizards were real. And hundreds that stated quite plainly that they weren’t. Ozzy read through them looking for an argument that would convince him either way.
“It looks like most rational people don’t think they are real,” Clark said.
“Right,” Ozzy agreed. “But sometimes rational people ruin everything.”
“That sounds like something Rin would say.”
Ozzy clicked on a link and brought up a Portland newspaper. There was a small banner ad across the bottom that was trying to drum up interest for an event at a shopping center.
Come Meet the Cheese Wizard
at the Washington Square Mall!
“There are cheese wizards?” Clark said in awe.
“I think that’s one of the fake wizards.”
Ozzy reached out to click off the page, but before he could, the banner ad changed into an ad for a Portland attorney named Timsby Lane.
“Timsby Lane,” Ozzy whispered.
“Isn’t that the street near the school?” Clark asked.
“No, that’s Thyme Lane.”
“Who or what is a Timsby?”
“My father mentioned a man by that name on one of his tapes. He was the guy who jumped into the polar bear cage, remember? I’ve never heard that name anywhere else.”
“Sure, but you don’t get out much.”
“That’s true, but still—Timsby?”
“I agree. It’s a horrible name.”
Ozzy set down the tablet and pulled out the box of cassette tapes he had near his bed. He dug through them until he found the one he was looking for. The tape player was sitting on the windowsill like it always was. Ozzy kept it there so that it could catch as much light as possible. He picked up the machine and put it on his bed. He ejected the tape that was in it and put in the tape he had found.
“I don’t understand,” Clark said. “How could it be the same person?”
“I’m not saying it is,” Ozzy said as he fast-forwarded the cassette to find the spot he wanted. “I just want to see if I’m right about the name.”
Ozzy pressed play.
“I will never give up on the dream of making this so. I find that terrible discoveries are often the most informative . . .”
Ozzy stopped the tape and pressed fast-forward again.
“I used to be impressed with this technology,” Clark said. “But the tablet puts this to shame.”
The machine clicked and whirred back and forth as Ozzy pressed play, then fast-forward, then play, then rewind, then play again.
“Or take, for example, the study of Timsby, subject number three.”
Emmitt Toffy’s voice filled the small attic bedroom like helium and made Ozzy feel light-headed.
“Timsby willingly displays the need for power and attention. As a young lawyer he cannot see the world outside the law and personal achievement. But as a subject he shows great possibility.”
The tape stopped there.
“Do you think there’s a connection?” Ozzy asked.
He looked at the tablet and saw that the page he had been on was no longer on the screen. Instead there were dozens of pictures of birds.
“What?” Clark said defensively. “I found the back button.”
Ozzy typed Timsby Lane’s name into the search bar.
“There has to be a connection.”
“No way,” Clark said. “The Timsby your father was talking about was young.”
“He was talking about that Timsby almost fifteen years ago.”
“Right. I’m not great with ages anyway, since I’m ageless.”
“There’s always rust.”
The screen revealed dozens of citations about Timsby Lane as a lawyer and about different clients he had helped. There was also some information on his family and the charity work he had done. According to one site, he had started his law career in New York.
That bit of information gave Ozzy chills. But what cracked the case was an article about him from almost fifteen years ago. It was a report on him jumping into a polar bear cage at the New York zoo.
“Just like the Timsby on the tapes did,” Clark whistled.
“That’s something, right?”
“I’ll say.”
Ozzy and Clark did some more searching online, but they couldn’t find anything else. Then they spent an hour looking at birds and various things made of metal. Clark enjoyed the search, but Ozzy’s mind was a million miles away.
Timsby was his first solid lead, and with it came his first solid hope. It was a wonderful and dangerous feeling.
Ozzy walked into Bites with Clark in his pocket and new information to share with Rin. The wizard was already sitting at the same booth, drinking a soda. Ozzy took his seat and Rin smiled at him.
“You look like you learned something overnight,” Rin said. “Maybe a full three-percent wiser than when I last left you.”
Ozzy smiled and Clark climbed out of his pocket and hid behind the condiments on the table.
“I don’t know if I’m smarter,” Ozzy said. “But I might know something new.”
“Let me tell you first—I spent a good amount of time consulting the cauldron and talking with the spirits that roam through my abode. I think there might be much more to the disappearance of your parents than meets the eye. There are pieces that you and I have yet to discover.”
“Isn’t that why it’s a mystery?” Clark asked from behind the steak sauce. “I mean, if there were no pieces to discover, we wouldn’t be here.”
“Such a knowing bird.”
“Have you ever heard of a cheese wizard?” Clark asked, peeking out from behind the ketchup.
Rin thought about it for a moment, chewing on his lip as he thought.
“I’m not sure that I have. I do have a second cousin in Quarfelt who can do marvelous things with anything dairy related. I saw him transform a cow into a boulder once.”
“Why would he do that?” Ozzy asked.
“In Quarfelt, good boulders are much more valuable than cows.”
“Sounds like a lovely place,” Clark interjected.
“We’re getting off track,” Rin said. “Please tell me what you discovered, Ozzy.”
“I don’t know if it means anything, but my father left behind dozens of cassette tapes. They were hidden in the stairs. They’re recordings of him talking about his work and his experiments and inventions.”
“There’s actually a great tape where he talks about putting me together,” Clark bragged. “Riveting stuff.”
“I’m sure,” Rin said kindly.
“Right. Anyhow, my father mentions a number of people that he knows or that he’s working with in one respect or another. Usually he refers to them as subjects or test cases, but there are a few exceptions where he names names. One he mentions is a man named Timsby.”
“Timsby?” Rin asked.
“Yes.”
“Unusual.”
“It gets weirder.”
“Really?” Rin asked. “Because Timsby is pretty weird. Do you think his parents were trying to be clever?”
“That’s not what I mean by weird.”
“Maybe his father’s name was Tim,” Rin added. “And his mother’s name was Amsby.”
“Is Amsby
a name?” Clark asked.
“The girl who used to cut my hair was named Ainsley.”
“That’s not the point,” Ozzy said, trying to steer two drifting minds back to the conversation at hand. “The point is, I was doing research online and I saw his name pop up in an ad for his law firm in Portland.”
“It seems like humans do a lot of making up names,” Clark said.
“Please, Clark.” Ozzy took a deep breath. “We need to keep focused. This isn’t about the weird name. Also, since we’re looking for leads, I think we should talk about the Doyle moving company. Somebody had to have helped my parents move everything out to my home.”
“Okay,” Rin said. “That’s not a bad direction either, and it would be easy to check out both. I say we look into this Timsby thing after we pay a visit to the moving company. I know Beau Doyle and he owes me a favor.”
“What for?” Clark asked.
“Let’s just say I once worked a number on his competition.”
“Who was that?” Ozzy asked.
“Well,” Rin said proudly, “There was this other moving company here in town and I conjured up a couple well-placed spells so that they’re no longer in business.”
“That’s not nice,” Ozzy pointed out.
“They weren’t very nice people.”
“And the Doyles are?”
“Well, the Doyles are good in the sense that Beau Doyle was willing to pay me.”
Ozzy rubbed his forehead with his thumb and two fingers. His grey eyes darkened to fit his level of concentration.
“You know what this means?” Ozzy said.
“I have less integrity than I thought?” Rin answered.
“Yes, that, but it also means there was another company that could have moved all of my parents stuff out to the cloaked house.”
“Cloaked house?”
“That’s what I call my home.”
“No wonder I couldn’t find it.”
“You couldn’t find it because you got tripped up in moss. But it’s filled with boxes and somebody besides just my parents had to help move those. Especially since there are no roads for miles.”
“Well, Beau Doyle’s not exactly a friend, but he owes me,” Rin said. “He’ll answer some questions so we’ll have some direction. That’s a good thing, but no quest should begin on an empty stomach.”
Labyrinth waved the waitress over and immediately ordered two Eggy Oinkers and two glasses of orange juice.
“Is one of those for me?” Ozzy asked.
“Of course. Also, you get to pay. I’m not sure how you have money, but it’s really none of my business.”
The waitress walked off, acting much less friendly than the one they’d had on Thursday.
“And I’d thank you for paying, but I consider the omelet as part of my fee. In a strange way you should be thanking me.”
“Thanks,” Ozzy said half-heartedly.
“You know, we have a saying in Quarfelt. ‘Those who can, do. Those who can’t, take from those who just did.’”
“That’s a saying?” Clark questioned.
“In Quarfelt.”
“Sounds like a wonderful place,” Ozzy said.
“Indescribable.”
Rin then took out a pack of regular playing cards and attempted to tell Ozzy his future. When nothing came to him, he bailed on the fortunetelling and they decided instead to play a game Rin called fours. After teaching the game to Ozzy, Rin lost two rounds. He pouted for a moment but then cheered up considerably when the omelet arrived.
The ways of a wizard are a strange and marvelous thing.
Ozzy had not been in a car since he was seven. The bus he rode to school was long and massive and not as fast or nimble as Rin’s vehicle. They whizzed down the road, the experience feeling as magical as anything Ozzy had ever heard of a wizard doing.
“This was once an electric car,” Rin said as he drove.
“Was?”
“Reality might not be my favorite realm, and I do care about the environment, but it was too slow. So I took out the engine and put in a better one. Now this thing has some real magic under the hood.”
Rin pressed on the gas.
“Knowing that I’m helping my environment makes driving even more enjoyable.”
“But it’s no longer electric,” Ozzy pointed out.
“Still, when it was purchased it was. You’ll understand these things when you get older.”
“Will I?”
“Listen, Ozzy,” Rin said changing the subject, “when we get to Doyle’s place, let’s just tell Beau that you’re my grandson.”
“I can’t say that.”
“I know I seem way too young to have grandkids.”
“No, you seem plenty old. It’s just that I think I should stay in the car. The fewer people who see me the better.”
“Right. I’ll just have to make you invisible.”
“You can do that?!”
“Of course. That’s wizard 101 stuff. I once turned an entire building invisible. Then I forgot to turn it back. When I returned to take the spell off, I couldn’t find it. Someone’s probably really upset about that.”
Rin drove down Main Street and turned just past Volts. He took another turn on a street called Ponce and then pulled up to a big metal garage with moving trucks parked outside. There was a massive Doyle painted on the side of the garage with “Let our family move your family” painted beneath that in smaller letters. Rin parked the car next to one of the trucks.
“Now, let’s make you invisible.”
“I don’t know,” Ozzy said.
“Don’t worry, no one will see you. Keep Clark in your pocket and hold still.”
Rin waved his hands and closed his eyes. His breathing became shallow and rapid. His eyes flashed open and he whispered a chain of words.
“Kiz-mon-al-mond-deen-lose-their-sight-wee-sea-unseen.”
Rin opened his eyes.
“Well?” Ozzy asked.
“It worked.”
Ozzy looked down at himself. He could still see his body.
“I can still see myself.”
“Of course—you’re not invisible to you.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“One hundred percent. Come on.”
Ozzy followed Rin into the front office of the moving business. Standing behind a worn and faded counter was a worn and faded man wearing dark glasses.
“Hello,” the man said. “Can I help you?”
“You can, Beau,” Rin said.
“Is that you, Brian?” the man asked.
“It’s Rin, remember.”
“That’s right. Rin. I always forget about the change.”
Beau didn’t seem to notice Ozzy, but he didn’t seem to be looking right at Rin either.
“I haven’t seen you around. But then again I haven’t seen anyone around.”
Beau laughed at his own joke.
“That’s still funny,” Rin said. “I have a question for you. I’m working on a little project and I wondered if you might have a lead for me.”
“Won’t know if I do till you ask.”
Rin took off his hat and scratched his head. It was the first time that Ozzy had seen him hatless and he was surprised to see just how much hair he had. It was long and thick and all the color of charcoal. If Rin was thirty years younger and had a better outfit, he’d look a bit like a tall rock star. Rin put his hat back on and spoke.
“I’m wondering how far back your records go.”
“Pretty far,” Beau said. “We’ve got a lot of room to store things.”
“I was wondering if you might have any information on a job you might have done about seven years ago?”
“Maybe. Back then it was only me and a couple of guys
who did all the moving. Of course, I couldn’t do much because of the blindness.”
Ozzy gasped.
“What was that?” Beau asked.
“Just me,” Rin insisted. “I’ve got a bit of indigestion.”
“Happens to the best of us. Nice to know it happens to wizards too.”
“Sure. Thanks for that, Beau. Anyway, I’m looking for a couple who may have hired you to manually move hundreds of boxes to a cabin deep in the woods. They would have been packed in over a number of miles.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Really? This would have been an unusual job.”
“Do you have a name?”
“Yes—Toffy. Mr. and Mrs. Toffy.”
“Let me go ask my son.”
Beau got up and walked slowly out of the office through a back door, leaving Ozzy and Rin alone.
“I’m not invisible,” Ozzy whispered. “He’s blind.”
“He might be blind, but that doesn’t mean other people can see you.”
“And why did he call you Brian?”
“That’s a long story.”
“How long?”
“I’ll tell you later—I promise.”
Beau came back into the office followed by another man who looked like a slightly younger copy, minus the dark glasses. Ozzy stood perfectly still, hoping the invisibility was a real thing.
“Hello, Brian,” the second man said.
“It’s Labyrinth—remember, Phil?”
“Right,” Phil said. “Well, neither of us have any memory of any such job. And according to our records we’ve never done work for anyone named Toffy.”
“Well, that’s what I needed to know,” Rin said quickly. “I’ll be on my way.”
Rin turned and began to push Ozzy towards the door.
“Wait,” Phil said in a friendly voice. “Who’s that you got with you?”
Rin sighed.
“You can see me?” Ozzy said.
“Of course,” Phil said. “Are you related to Brian? I mean . . . Labyrinth?”
“Yes, he is,” Rin said. “He’s my nephew Crimsdale.”
Phil stepped out from behind the counter. “Really? I don’t remember you having any nephews.”
“Well, I do, and here he is.”