Small Magics by Erik Buchanan Read Free Book Online

breathing became deep and even.
    Timothy passed his left hand above his right, and a glowing ball of light appeared in the palm of his right hand.
    The light shone turquoise blue, and swirled around itself, giving the ball its shape. It could almost have been a jewel, but the outer edges seemed fuzzy, as though they were fading into the air rather than ending. Timothy rose to his feet and raised his hand higher. The entire crowd leaned forward to look.
    “And now,” said Timothy, raising his empty hand above the one with the ball, “Allee-oop!”
    The ball leapt from his palm into the air. The crowd gasped.
    Timothy kept the ball floating between his hands, and raised it slowly until it floated just below his eye level. Slowly, the ball began to spin in place. Timothy let it alone for a time, then with a gesture from his left hand, made the ball start orbiting first around his right hand, then his arm. All the time he kept his left hand close, as though he expected the ball to fly away and needed to be ready to catch it. He raised his hands higher, and the ball whirled around above his head. He tilted his face up to the sky and the ball’s orbit shrank smaller and smaller until, finally, it spun in place just above the tip of his nose.
    “Witchcraft!” whispered someone, their voice carrying through the silent, staring crowd. “It’s witchcraft!”
    The little ball slowed its rotation then gently came to a stop. Timothy knelt slowly, keeping his hands on either side of the hovering ball. The crowd leaned forward even further.
    Suddenly Timothy’s hands clapped above the ball, making it disappear in a flash of light and silvery powder. The crowd gasped collectively then everyone started clamouring at once. Some were cheering the trick, others demanding to know how it was done. The whisper of witchcraft became a shout, and soon it was coming from a half-dozen throats. Timothy stayed where he was, hands high, watching. Arguments began to break out, and an ugly tension began to build.
    Timothy’s high, ridiculing laugh cut through the noise. He pulled himself to his feet and walked to the front of the stage. He continued laughing as he pulled on his shirt, then his jacket. The entire crowd was staring at him now.
    Timothy waited a moment longer before asking, “What’s the matter with you lot?”
    “Witchcraft!” shouted one man from the back. “You’re using witchcraft!”
    “Witchcraft?” Timothy laughed again, the sound cutting through the silence like a knife. “What sort of a fool notion is that?” He turned to Thomas. “Scholar! Did you hear what they said? Witchcraft!” He shook his head. “Tell me, in the opinions of the knowledgeable is there even such a thing as witchcraft?”
    Thomas was staring wide-eyed at the juggler. He could feel the eyes of the crowd boring into the back of his head, could see Timothy’s relaxed, amused expression. Timothy winked and smiled, waiting for his answer.
    “No,” said Thomas, slowly. He stopped, unsure for a moment, then repeated loud enough for everyone to hear, “No. Though witchcraft is still on the laws of the Church of the High Father as dealing with the Banished for powers beyond what man should have, and though the church holds it to be a grievous sin, in the opinion of the knowledgeable, there’s no such thing as witchcraft.”
    “Well, there you have it,” crowed Timothy, pointing to Thomas. “See? No such thing!”
    “Then what was that?” demanded the same man from the back. “What did we see if not witchery?”
    Timothy pursed his lips and put a hand to his mouth as though thinking, then opened his lips wide. A turquoise-blue ball seemed to come out of his mouth and into his hand. He held it up for all to see. The ball was painted with lighter swirls, and coated with many layers of shellac, so that the ball shone in the light, almost as if glowing from within, and the edges seemed to fade into nothing. With a derisive laugh, he threw it down