Duality by Rowan Erlking (classic books for 13 year olds txt) 📕

Bernum watched the entire show from his spot on his chest—from the performing dogs, the talking birds, the knife-juggling act that Perri couple did, and even the sword fight between the KiTai warriess and the Blue Lord which wowed the crowd and terrified Bernum. They were the real thing. He clenched his hands together, waiting up until the ringmaster announced him. “Now welcome the Magnificent Magician Mullgrum!”

Springing up with a jerk, ignoring the fact that he was just called Mullgrum, Bernum hopped through the tent flaps, trying his hardest to keep his eyes off Malkia as he ran into the center ring. He slapped on a big smile while taking the full blast of the crowds cheers, the spotlights nearly blinding him even to the point that he tripped on one of the hoops the dog trainer left ‘on accident’. Bernum stopped in the center and called out in a loud voice, hoping it would not shake. “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen! I hope none of you are trained magicians out there, or this act is going to be very short!”

Several people laughed. Good. He could play the fool rather than the idiot.

Bernum picked up his handkerchief and whispered the enacting words to the spell he had written on it with water. Then he tossed it into the air. The handkerchief floated.

Some people clapped. Most were not impressed.

He did another then another, then another until all of the handkerchiefs were floating over his head on a slight breeze, somewhat like clouds. They started to swirl around a little, showing the current of the breeze that maintained just over Bernum’s head.

“Magic is very simple,” Bernum said, setting his hands together with a bow to the VIP box. Malkia was glaring at him as if to tell him to go away. He swallowed, turning his eyes from her with a sweeping gaze to the crowd. “You can see I can conjure a breeze to make light things fly, but can a magician make a thing that is not alive—alive?”

He pulled out one of his folded paper birds. Setting the bottom (where there was a small opening) to his lips, he blew in. The body puffed out, even as he tugged on the wings. Then tapping it he recited the words to the spell he had used on the handkerchiefs. The ‘bird’ flew through them.

Some more people clapped though it looked like the same quaint trick—most were getting bored.

But Bernum kept adding to the birds, making them fly up through the handkerchiefs until there was a flock. The moment someone ventured to boo at him, Bernum fixed his eye on that man and recited a sending spell, pointing directly at him.

In a flash the paper birds all whipped atop the heckler who promptly ducked with a yelp, holding up his arms to protect his face. But just as quickly, Bernum summoned them back over his head, shaking his head at the man in the stands while also shaking a finger. “Tisk, tisk, tisk—You shouldn’t upset them.”

That got him a few laughs.

Bernum then directed the birds to his preplanned destinations where each one landed, giving the illusion of being alive. As he did this, he summoned all the handkerchiefs back into his pocket—them whipping in with a snap—then he started into another slight-of-hand act, switching the colors of the handkerchiefs in his hand so that it looked like he had magically done it. He got a few more cheers, no more boos—and the audience leaned in closer.

Then he used the hat.

He had to call a person from the audience to help show off the hat, that there were no holes, no wires, no threads, no secret boxes—the usual shtick. From there he then crushed the tip into the ground, summoning random things from his chest into the hat, a skill he learned in his second year of magic school and one he had often used to tease his classmates.

First he pulled out the rubber duck, which got a laugh. Then the stuffed rabbit. He tossed the silly items over his shoulder as if disgruntled, but the crowd giggled with each thing he dug out, enjoying the comedy rather than the magic. He then dug out one of the tacky stuffed birds, held it up and shouted at it. “Dag nab it! I wanted a real live pigeon! Stop sending me this fake stuff, hat!”

He shook the hat vigorously as if punishing it then crammed it against the ground, whispering up another summoning spell.

One live pigeon flew out.

The crowd gasped.

Bernum lifted the hat up from the floor, stomped on the ground as if kicking a fit and then jammed the hat down again. “I meant I want pigeons! Not just one!”

He uttered the summoning spell under his breath, making an annoyed face for the crowd’s benefit.

Suddenly like a fountain of water, the entire flock he had in his trap backstage burst out, flapping into the air then all over, flying over everyone’s head.

The crowd burst into a cheer, though some people ducked down, screaming as the fleet of birds hardly stopped though the Bernum cackled with his hands on his hip, especially laughing at his heckler who had ducked down once more, covering his face with his arms.

“I have had enough!” Malkia batted the pigeon away from her head, rising to her feet. “He is making a mockery of magic!”

“Sit down!” Merchant Omoni shouted at her. Her voice had carried and several heads had turned to stare at the famed witch-wife.

Malkia dropped to her seat, but slapped her hands over her eyes. “I’m not watching any more! You can’t make me! This whole show is a disgrace! I want out of here now!”

“You will do as I tell you!” Omoni snapped back, blustering with apologetic looks to his special guests as well as at Bernum who dropped his smile and was watching them, his hands still on his hips though this time with annoyance.

Bernum hopped towards the VIP box. “If I may help?” He then reached into his robes and whipped out one of the gaudy silk flower bouquets. “Flowers for the lady?”

Malkia swatted it away, leaning over the box front at him. “Go away! Be a real magician and get out of here!”

Making a face, Bernum staggered back. “I see the lady does not like flowers. Perhaps she likes birds.”

He summoned over one of his paper birds. It landed on his palm. He held it out to her.

Malkia nearly smacked it out of his hand, but she caught sight of the look in his eye and snatched it up instead. “You are a pest.”

Bowing, Bernum returned her glare with a strained simper. “And you are ruining my act.”

Crushing the bird in her hands, Malkia whipped around to Omoni. “Let me out of here!”

Omoni rose, squaring his shoulders. The entire amphitheater-full was watching him. He turned to Bernum first.

“Magician! Finish your show!” He then blustered toward Malkia. “Woman! Go wait back stage—and don’t mess with the animals!”

Malkia huffed, tromping out of the VIP box then kicking one of the prop boxes as she passed Bernum into the performers area. Bernum watched her, blinking after her, then shrugged and gave a bow to Mr. Omoni.

“I only have one more magic act to perform tonight.” He then trotted back to his hat and picked it up. Shaking off the dirt, he then tucked it under his arm and waved up to the flying pigeons that were starting to settle on the wires above as well as the tight rope and trapeze. The flock rose up once more, even as he recited the sending spell that set them free to go outside. In an eager flurry of wings, they shot to the tent exit, scattering out to the sky. Bernum walked backwards, bowing to the audience as he drew up his hand. With a swipe, he brought his hand down, releasing the packet he had hidden in his palm. Immediately the powder burst into a bright flashing cloud of smoke.

Bernum was gone. Had anyone paid attention to the tent door they would have seen him staggering out of the arena, half-covered in soot and ash.

“Gads…I’m glad that’s over.” Bernum dropped to where he had left his magic chest—to immediately fall farther, striking the ground hard.

Blinking, he then looked around himself.

“My chest!” Bernum hopped right onto his feet. “Where’s my chest?”

Several of the performers ducked down, snickering.

Turning with a glare at them, Bernum shook his head and kicked the ground, stomping past the “Amazing flying man” as the white-and-black haired performer strode into the ring, his feathered cloak fluttering behind him. Bernum kicked open the straw from the floor and cast another glare at the snickering performers.

“Out from the North. Right from the East. Down from the South. In from the West. Come to this spot, my magic chest.” He stamped his foot right in front of him. “Here.”

Nothing happened for a few minutes, but Bernum just waited, folding his arms. Then he heard thumping, bumping and clatter with the cries of several men yelping at his right. The large, rubber performing ball used in the dog tricks suddenly shot to the left and three of the boxes crashed down. Propelling right behind them was the chest with three men struggling to hold on to it. Bernum waited until the entire group and chest halted at his feet.

He set his foot on top of the chest, leaning over to peer at the two clowns and that little man. “You know, theft is harshly punished in Maldos.”

The three men scattered.

Huffing, Bernum grabbed one side handle and dragged his chest back to where he had his hate ward. He shoved the chest into it. “There.”

“They could probably steal it again. You have to be in there for it to work.”

Bernum turned around, blinking at Malkia who was standing next to the llama, petting it.

He walked over to her. “They might be able to step into the circle to get the chest out, but they won’t be able to make it out themselves. I learned that at school.”

Malkia lifted her eyebrows. “Really?”

Nodding, Bernum took another step closer then glanced over his shoulder. The circus performers were glaring at him though some were peering at the pair of them. He rolled his eyes and turned to look at her again. Malkia slapped him.

Clenching his face, Bernum shouted. “What was that for?”

“I told you to get out of here!” She snapped. “Why didn’t you listen to me?”

Rounding on her, Bernum barked back, “I’m not here for fun, you know!”

“Could have fooled me!” She shrieked.

Bernum closed his eyes, lowering his head and shaking it. This time he whispered. “Malkia, I’m not leaving without you.”

Moaning, she hung her shoulders, hunching over also to look into his face. “Bernum, don’t you trust my magic?”

He opened his eyes. “I do. That’s not it.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she started to sniff. She leaned her head onto his, whispering. “I’m sorry. Did I hit you hard? Does it hurt?”

Bernum immediately wrapped his arms around her. He could not stop himself. Cradling her as she sobbed more, Bernum whispered to his sister, “I have to get you out of here.”

She shook her head, leaning back. “No, Bernum. No. Just get away. Go take care of Dennik. I summoned a demon. He’ll take care of things.”

“A demon…” Bernum groaned inside, thinking of all the things that could go wrong with that. “Why did you summon a demon, Malkia? They’re deadly. You can’t trust a demon.”

He noticed the Blue Lord not far off watching him narrowly. The red haired warriess was now next to the southern demon, whispering something.

Bernum made his voice go even lower. “Malkia, I will find a way to get you out of here.”

She pulled back. “No, Bernum. Trust the demon. Trust this one. I know he’ll take care of Omoni for us—no questions asked, no trouble. Trust me. I know what I am doing.”

He stepped back, still shaking his head. “What kind of