Magician's Fire Read Free Page B

carried Arthur to a table, propped him on a chair, and drew up chairs of their own. Harry nodded to a waitress, who rattled a little wooden cart over to them. She picked up what was on it and lowered it onto the table. At the same moment, Harry and Billie removed Arthur’s blindfold.
    â€œHappy birthday, Artie!”
    A cake. Chocolate icing spiraled on its sides. Cream oozed from its center, spilling onto the plate, and three layers of sponge cake could be detected, each one sitting on a thick layer of yet more icing. Blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light, Artie took in all these details, but one seemed to affect him in particular: written on the cake’s top in sugary sprinkles was his name, along with a skillfully frosted picture of a stack of interesting-looking books.
    â€œBut how did you afford this?” Arthur gasped.
    â€œThe money from the trick, silly,” Billie replied.
    â€œBut…that’s Harry’s money, really. He stood in front of th—”
    â€œThat’s not how we do things, Artie. You know that,” Harry interrupted. “You calculated the train time, didn’t you? Billie found the chains, and both of you ran around drumming up that crowd…”
    â€œWith no crowd, there wouldn’t be any money,” agreed Billie, grabbing a spoon.
    â€œExactly. So we split the money three ways.” Harry leaned forward and jabbed a finger on the tablecloth. “Anyway, who knows where I’d have gotten with my tricks if it hadn’t been for you encouraging me, Artie. Remember when you saw me trying to cross Sixth Avenue by leaping between speeding streetcars? I was going nowhere then. Just some shoeshine boy, leaping about—no one else was noticing. But then you wandered up and told me all about that book you’d been reading in the library…”
    â€œ Fire Dances in the Amazon ,” said Arthur quietly.
    â€œMagicians there prove their skills by dancing through pits of fire! Why not do the same, flying through the showers of sparks from the streetcars?” Harry turned to Billie, his finger still firm on the tablecloth. “Same goes for you, Billie. You saw me practicing tightrope-walking along the back of that park bench—”
    â€œWaved my arms around, trying to make you lose balance.” Billie smiled.
    â€œLike I say, at least you noticed. And you also had the idea of stringing a rope way up high between two trees and getting me to walk along it while muttering spells and wriggling my arms free of no less than twenty-five knots. Helped me practice it over and over too, and that was how we drew our first crowd.” The finger was hurting now from all the jabbing. “So anyway, that’s why we split stuff in three. And because it’s your birthday, Artie, me and Billie decided to spend our shares on something you’d like.”
    â€œSo that just left your bit. And we decided to throw that in too, if that’s all right by you,” Billie added.
    â€œYes, of course…” Arthur’s voice had gone very quiet indeed. “Thanks, folks…”
    For some time, he said nothing more. He just sat there, staring at the cake. Uncertain what to do next, Harry didn’t move either. The silence went on for so long that the icing melting under the top layer of the cake began to tilt it to one side. Harry and Billie exchanged worried looks. Then, finally, Arthur reached out a hand and picked up the knife.
    â€œFather can ignore me as much as he likes and send as many messages as he wants about boarding schools too.” He smiled. “The three of us—we’ve got some serious eating to do.”
    The cake flew apart. Arthur cut the first slice, and then cut two more for Billie and Harry, and then kept cutting more slices for all three of them, in between gobbling down what was on his plate. Spoons flashed, hands grabbed, bits of sponge cake bounced across the table, and Harry