Escape to the World's Fair (12 page)

T
HE NAME ON THE CURTAIN

F
rances was glad she hadn't picked a longer dress from among Madame Zee's things. If she had, she might not have been able to run so fast! But even still, the Pike was getting so busy that they could only move in short bursts, dashing from one clearing in the crowd to another.

The four of them darted into a side passage next to an exhibit called Fair Japan.

“Did he . . . see us?” Jack asked as he tried to catch his breath.

Frances nodded. Her stomach had had a twisted-up feeling from the moment she and Alexander had spotted Edwin Adolphius. His eyes had met theirs, and she'd seen the spark of recognition through his beady stare.

“So what do we do now?” Eli asked.

“It's too late to warn Dutch and the others about the poster,” Alexander pointed out. “We have to hide.”

“And we have to get Harold!” Frances said. She thought of him hiding back at Madame Zee's. Her brother couldn't sit still for more than half an hour—how long had it been since they'd left? She peered around the corner and looked up and down the Pike.

“Be careful!” Jack whispered. “Adolphius might see you! I don't think we've lost him yet!”

Frances didn't see Edwin Adolphius. But what she
did
see was a crowd forming on the walkway in front of Madame Zee's place. A
big
crowd—around the place where she'd left Harold!

What is happening?
Frances felt her heart thudding as she bolted around the corner toward Madame Zee's.

By the time she reached the crowd, Alexander, Jack, and Eli had caught up.

“What's going on?” Alexander asked, but Frances didn't know. The crowd ran the length of the entrance to Madame Zee's and was already four deep. Frances stood on her toes to get a better view and saw that the velvet ropes had been used to make a space between the threshold of Madame Zee's and the crowd. A space, Frances realized, like a stage. A set of painted curtains concealed the entrance.

Frances chewed her lip nervously. Her brother didn't seem to be anywhere in the crowd, so she crossed her fingers and hoped that he was still hiding inside. She'd sneak in there soon enough, as soon as this
thing—
whatever it was—was over.

“Excuse me,” Frances said to a woman who stood next to her adjusting her straw hat. “Is this some kind of show?”

“It's a demonstration,” the woman whispered. “On the mysteries of the ancient realm.”

“Oh.” Frances had no idea what that meant.

“No, I heard it's a séance,” a man nearby said. “And somebody gets hypnotized.”

“Oh, that's over at the Moorish Palace, and that's all fake,” the straw-hatted woman replied. “
This
lady is for real. They say you won't be able to believe your own eyes!”

Frances tried to get as close to the velvet rope as she could. She looked around and saw that the boys had done the same thing in different spots across the crowd. Jack was gesturing frantically, trying to get her attention.

What?
Frances mouthed.

Look!
Jack mouthed back, motioning to the curtain.

Frances craned her neck to make out the words on the curtain.
The Mesmeric Marvels of Madame Zogbhi,
they read
.
She still didn't know how to pronounce that name, but something about it made her brain itch. She just shrugged back at Jack, who looked frustrated.

“What is this place, anyway?” Frances asked the straw-hatted woman.

“Why, it's the Temple of Palmistry,” the woman replied.

Frances blinked. Suddenly her brain was getting even itchier.

“Excuse me, could you say that again?” Frances asked the woman.

The woman sighed. “The Temple of Palmistry. Do you have a Fair guide? There's an ad for it in there.”

The guide!
Frances's heart raced as she tried to remember who had the little booklet.
Alexander's got it!
She made her way as quickly as she could to his spot in the crowd, only a few feet away from the velvet rope. “Sorry,” she whispered as she nudged and stumbled. The crowd was becoming denser, and she had a feeling the show would start any minute. But she had to see for herself . . .

“What are you doing?” Alexander asked as Frances practically yanked the guide out of his pocket and started flipping through the pages.

“I think we've found the Temple of Promises!” Frances said. “Look! It wasn't shown on the map, but it's advertised here!”

She pointed to the page:

THE TEMPLE OF PALMISTRY

M
RS
.
C
ATHERINE
M
C
G
EE
,
PROPRIETOR
.
D
IVINATI
ONS
,
F
ORTUNES
,
AND
E
XH
IBITIONS
OF
A
NCIENT
M
YSTERIES
SO
REMARKABLE
AS
TO
CO
NVINCE
THE
MOST
SKEP
TICAL
.
L
OCATED
ON
THE
P
IKE

“Do you see?” Frances asked him. “It's not the Temple of
Promises,
but—”

“The Temple of
Palmistry
!” Alexander finished. “And it wasn't
Moses
McGee we were looking for, but
Mrs. McGee!”

Frances nodded. “We'd just heard the words wrong! And Mrs. McGee is Madame Zee, isn't it?” she said, suddenly making the connection. “She said her name was Catherine!”

“There she is now!” Alexander whispered. Frances looked up in just time to see Madame Zee step out from between the curtains, wearing a robe that was even more resplendent than the one she'd donned the night before.

“Good day, ladies and gentlemen,” she said. “Welcome to the Temple of Palmistry, and I am . . .” She pointed to the words painted on the curtain. “Madame Zogbhi.”

Frances's jaw dropped when she heard the name spoken. It was pronounced
Zogby
!

She turned to Alexander, who looked just as confused as she felt. “But how . . .” he mumbled. Frances knew what he was wondering:
What was the connection?

She searched for Jack in the crowd, because she suddenly understood why he had been waving and pointing at the curtain—
he'd
figured out the significance of “Zogbhi” first! She wondered what else Jack had figured out.

But when she spotted him again, he wasn't alone. Edwin Adolphius held him firmly by the forearm.

“Oh, no!” Frances could barely breathe out the words. “Jack's caught!” She and Alexander watched helplessly as Jack struggled and tried to yank his arm free. “What should we do?”

“Shh!” scolded a man standing behind Frances. “The show is starting!”

Madame Zee was speaking. “Today, I will demonstrate to you the remarkable powers of the constellations and the marvels that manifest themselves when the mind is harnessed to the infinite wisdom of the ancient stars.” She went over to the curtain. “Behold!”

Frances kept her eyes on Jack and Edwin Adolphius, even as she could hear the curtains part.

A gasp rose up from the crowd, and Mr. Adolphius turned his head to look at the action on the stage.

At that moment, Jack wrenched his arm free and darted under the velvet rope. But even
he
stopped and stared at what the curtains had just revealed.

What is going on?

Frances finally turned and saw for herself.

Just inside the entrance to Madame Zee's, Harold sat on a wooden chair. It looked like an ordinary chair, except that it was tilted back and balanced on a single chair leg.

Or rather, a single chair leg that just happened to be balanced on a wooden ball that gently rocked back and forth.

“Impossible!” someone in the crowd exclaimed.

Yet Harold sat on top of it all, defying gravity, grinning widely.

T
HE AMULET OF THE EASTERN SKY

“H
i, Jack!” Harold called when he saw Jack standing by the curtains.

Jack's mouth was too dry to answer. His arm smarted from where Edwin Adolphius had gripped it while hissing,
You're coming with me.
Now Jack's instincts were screaming,
Run, hide,
but everything around him was oddly still, almost frozen. A few in the crowd murmured and whispered in amazement at Harold and his teetering chair, but everyone else seemed to be holding their breath. Any disruption, it seemed, would break the illusion.

But then Madame Zee caught Jack's eye.

“Ah, yes,” she said, loud enough for the audience to hear. “And now my four young assistants shall come forward. Please, you will let them through.”

One by one, Alexander, Eli, and Frances emerged from the crowd and slipped under the velvet rope to the stage area. Jack was grateful for Madame Zee's quick thinking in calling them “assistants.” Frances even looked the part in her borrowed gypsy dress.

Madame Zee directed them to stand off to the side near Jack. “My dear assistants,” she said. “You know this little boy, do you not?” She motioned to Harold, who waved.

The audience remained rapt. Jack could see Edwin Adolphius glowering at him and his friends. But being on stage in plain sight seemed the safest place to be at the moment. As long as the show went on, that is.

“Yes, ma'am,” Jack answered Madame Zee as the others nodded. “We know him.”

“And does he possess any special powers that you are aware of?” Madame asked.

Frances appeared to be holding back a grin, but she answered, “No, ma'am.”

Madame Zee smiled. “So then he is an ordinary child,” she announced to the crowd. “No different than the children right here.”

“
Trouble
is what they are!” Mr. Adolphius's voice rumbled up out of the audience. He shook a fist and pointed indignantly to the stage while the onlookers around him turned to glare at the disruption.

“
HUSH!
” scolded a stout woman next to him. More reprimands and shushing came from all around. Mr. Adolphius went silent and pulled his hat lower over his eyes.

“As I was saying,” Madame Zee continued. “This boy is ordinary. He is no magician, has no unusual abilities. But it is the radiance of the ancient stars, whose invisible powers I have summoned today, that keep him suspended!”

The front row of the audience leaned in over the velvet rope for a closer look.

“You must not get too close,” Madame Zee warned. “The field of radiance is very strong. It does not touch the boy, but surrounds him.”

As Jack watched, he suspected there was another reason why Madame Zee didn't want the crowd to get closer. From where he stood, he could just barely make out a few faint glints above Harold's chair that he suspected were thin wires. He glanced over at Madame Zee, who winked at him.

“It is the mystics of Egypt who taught me to channel these ancient powers,” she told the audience. Then she reached into her robe and pulled out a hidden necklace from around her neck.

It was the medallion!
Jack nearly stopped breathing. Or rather, he realized quickly, Madame Zee's amulet looked just like the medallion in his pocket.

“This is the Amulet of the Eastern Sky,” Madame Zee announced. “I am using it to direct the radiance.” She turned and held out her amulet in the direction of Harold and his chair. “Much as a lens directs a beam of light.”

The crowd began to murmur as, slowly but smoothly, Harold's chair lifted into the air. The one leg it balanced on suddenly floated free, and the wooden ball rolled away. Harold's eyes popped wider in surprise as the chair gently straightened itself.

A burst of applause went up from the crowd and Jack could hear words of amazement all around him. “Incredible!” “How does she do it?” “Unbelievable!”

“Is it true,” called out a man behind Jack, “that you can make that chair fly through the air?”

“I heard she did it at the World's Fair in Chicago!” someone else called out. “There was a different boy, of course.”

Madame Zee turned to face the audience and let the amulet drop back against her chest. “It is true,” she said. “Eleven years ago, I gave this very demonstration with another boy. My son. He knew something of these ancient arts that I practice, and he had in his possession another amulet, the Amulet of the Western Sky. With both amulets, the power of the radiance was twofold!”

She straightened up and took a deep breath. “Now there is only the one amulet. The other one . . .” Her voice faltered just slightly, but it was enough to make Jack's heart pound. “It was with my son. But he and his amulet are gone.”

Was,
Madame Zee had said. As if her son were no longer alive. Jack could see it in her face. He knew her look: It was the same one his mother had worn in the weeks after Daniel was gone.

It was grief.

Madame Zee touched the amulet around her neck. “These amulets, they have the power to guide us. But they are not strong enough,” she said, “to protect us.”

Jack's throat felt tight, even though there were so many things he needed to say. Because now he knew who Madame Zee really was.

The crowd had fallen silent. Jack glanced up and saw Frances looking at him, her eyes imploring him to
speak up
! She must have figured it out, too. Jack began to search his pockets. . . .

The voice that broke the silence came from behind them. “Madame Zee?”

It was Harold. “Madame Zee,” he said again. “Don't be sad. Um, I think it protected him. The amulet, that is.”

Madame Zee turned to stare at Harold. “My child, what do you mean?”

The medallion—the
amulet
—was in Jack's hand. He held it out and stepped toward Madame Zee.

“Is this the Amulet of the Western Sky?” he asked her.

She reached out with a shaking hand, and Jack pressed it into her palm.

For a moment her only response was to nod. She wiped her tearing eyes on the back of her hand. “But how did . . . ?”

“Philander Zogby gave us this two days ago,” Jack told her.

“
My son!
” Madame Zee cried. “He's alive?”

At that same moment Harold's chair dropped to the floor with a thud. The audience gasped.

But Harold, unhurt, climbed off the chair. He ran and gave Madame Zee a big hug as the crowd broke into applause.

“Mr. Zogby is nice,” he told Madame Zee. “I'm glad you're his mother.”