Small Magics by Erik Buchanan Read Free Book Online Page A

on the stage, putting force into it. The ball hit with a loud crack and bounced back up. He caught it, covered it with his hands then pulled them apart. The ball floated in the air between, and this time Timothy turned his hands to show them the thin threads that held it to his fingers.
    “A fine trick, isn’t it?” he asked. He caught the ball and put it into his jacket. “It gets them every time, it does. And I got you all but good! ”
    A sheepish groan ran through the audience, followed with applause and cheering.
    “And let that be a lesson to you all!” Timothy shouted. “Don’t believe everything you see, for you never know when you might be fooled!” He made a showy gesture with his hands, then smoke puffed out from the stage and he vanished. The crowd gasped and surged forward again until those in the front pointed out the trap door. A few moments later the crowd broke up, leaving Thomas and his two friends standing at the edge of the stage.
    “Well,” said George, grinning, “he certainly had me going for a while there. I thought he really did have magic or something. Didn’t you?”
    “Or something,” agreed Eileen. She turned her attention to Thomas. “Well, I’ll bet that made you forget your troubles for a while, didn’t it?”
    “Yes.” Thomas was still staring at the stage. “Yes, it did.” He shook his head, forcing himself out of his reverie. “It really did. We’ve got to grab the tailor.” He started scanning the crowd. “The offer for supper at the tavern is still open, if you like.”
    “Oh, we like,” said George.
    “Indeed we do,” agreed Eileen, “though you’ll have to mind George doesn’t eat you out of all your pocket money.”
    Thomas nodded absently and turned his eyes to the crowd, searching for the tailor. His thoughts were still with the little man on the stage. He had seen many magicians in the city. They performed on street-corners for change thrown from the crowd. One night, he’d even managed to get one to teach him several tricks.
    Thomas had never taken his eyes off Timothy. Even while the crowd was getting boisterous and angry, Thomas had kept watching the little man, hoping for some clue that would show him how Timothy had done the trick.
    Which is why Thomas, paying attention to the man’s hands when no one else was, saw Timothy slip the little blue wooden ball out of his jacket pocket after the trick was over.

Chapter 3
    The tailor, whose name was Alistair and who told Thomas to address him as such, please, insisted on taking them all to the pastry stand in honour of Thomas’s victory. Thomas, now quite hungry, hadn’t argued, and the three munched on blueberry jam pies as the tailor led them to his shop. A suit for Master Thomas? Oh, yes, of course. His father had already brought the fabric and paid for the work. If Thomas would just accompany him back to the shop…?
    “He already paid for it?” asked Thomas, following in step beside the tailor.
    “Indeed. He came in not two weeks ago, bringing fabric from his own warehouse, and mighty nice fabric at that. And he ordered boots to match, though the cobbler said he needed your foot size first, since he hasn’t measured you since you were fourteen—he’s at home by now, so you should drop by him next. Your father said it was to honour your work at the Academy.”
    Thomas was quite confused and said so.
    “Oh, he’s very proud of you. Why, he even bragged about that sword you have. Said you won it at a tournament which shows you weren’t wasting your time there.” The tailor chuckled. “Not that he approved of wearing swords, he was quick to add.”
    “I thought you said your father was furious at you.” Eileen sounded as confused as Thomas felt.
    “He was,” said Thomas. “He was practically foaming.”
    “Could he have been pretending?” asked George.
    “I don’t think so.” Thomas thought about it; shook his head. “No. Not a
    chance. Remember when he had the surprise party