The Magician's Boy

SUSAN COOPER

Margaret K. McElderry Books
New York London Toronto Sedney

2005 Susan Cooper
2005 Serena Riglietti

THE MAGICIAN'S BOY

For Jack and the Revels with love

—S. C.

• • •

A mio figlio Francesco, che mi guarda

—S. R.

THE MAGICIAN'S BOY

Margaret K. McElderry Books
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Text copyright © 2005 by Susan Cooper

Illustrations copyright © 2005 by Serena Riglietti

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

Book design by Ann Bobco

The text for this book is set in Times New Roman.

The illustrations for this book are rendered in pen and ink, watercolor, and colored pencils.

Manufactured in the United States of America

4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Cooper, Susan, 1935-

The magician's boy / Susan Cooper.—1st ed.

p. cm.

Summary: A Boy who works for a Magician meets familiar fairy tale characters when he is transported to the Land of Story in search of a missing puppet.

ISBN 0-689-87622-X (hardcover)

ISBN 13: 978-0-689-87622-6

eISBN 978-1-439-10793-5

[1. Fairy tales. 2. Characters in literature—Fiction. 3. Puppets—Fiction. 4. Puppet theater—Fiction. 5. Magicians—Fiction.] I. Title.

PZ8.C7926Mag 2005

[Fic]—dc22

2004008549

There was once a Boy who worked for a Magician. Every day he polished the Magician's magic wands and the gold stars and moons on his great blue robe. He weeded the garden where the magic herbs grew, and crushed their seeds into powder for the Magician's spells. He worked very hard indeed. But he wasn't happy.

More than anything in the world, the Boy wanted to learn magic—but the Magician would not teach him.

The Boy fed the six white rabbits that lived in a hutch in the garden, but he was always startled when he saw the Magician pull one of them out of somebody's hat. He washed the dishes in the kitchen, and watched enviously when the Magician picked up an empty jug and poured milk out of it. How did he do these things?

“Master,” he begged, “teach me! Teach me magic!”

But the Magician always said, “Not yet,
Boy. Not till the time is right. Not yet.”

When the Magician went out to perform, the Boy went with him, to help him on stage, and to catch any rabbits he might pull out of hats. The Boy loved those days, because then he had one really special job too.

When the Magician performed, he always took with him a little puppet theatre in which he showed the play“Saint George and the Dragon”—and the Boy was allowed to operate the puppets. The Boy stood on a box behind the tiny stage, hidden by a curtain, and he pulled the puppets' strings while the Magician told the story of the play.

It was an odd little play. One of the people in it was Father Christmas, but all he had to do was introduce the other characters to the audience. These were the wicked Dragon, who loved fighting; the Turkish Knight, who fought the Dragon but could never beat him; and the Doctor, who was there in case anyone was wounded. And of course there was the hero, Saint George.

The Boy was especially proud of the way he made Saint George kill the Dragon, at the end. The wounded Dragon staggered round in a circle, puffed out three clouds of white smoke, jumped up in the air and fell down
dead. (The white smoke was really chalk dust, puffed by the Boy from a little pipe.) The watching children always cheered at this, so the Boy was pleased. It wasn't magic, but it was the next best thing.

One Christmas, the Magician and the Boy went to perform at a family party given by a Mr. and Mrs. Pennywinkle, in a grand stone house as big as a castle.

“Mr. Pennywinkle is a very important person!” said the Magician, frowning at the Boy. “Everything must be
perfect!”

The Magician was a very tall man, with a beaky nose, black eyebrows like doormats, and a bristly mustache. He was alarming when he frowned.

The Boy said, “Yes, Master! Of course!” He gave the magic wands an extra polish, he shampooed the rabbits, and he repainted the trees on the back wall of the puppet theatre stage.

And off they went to the party.

At the party, Mr. and Mrs. Pennywinkle's house was full of light and music, and the Magician's audience was full of children. They gasped and clapped at the Magician's tricks, especially when he took six eggs one by one out of Mr. Pennywinkle's bow tie, broke them into Mrs. Pennywinkle's
purse, pulled out a Christmas cake and showed the purse to be perfectly empty, clean and dry.

I wish I could do that!
thought the Boy, as he swept up the eggshells.

But it was time for the play.

“Now for the terrifying story of ‘Saint George and the Dragon'!” boomed the Magician, and he pulled back the curtain covering the stage of the little theatre. Behind the stage the Boy stood, hidden, ready to pull the puppets' strings.

“To begin, let us meet our characters!” cried the Magician. “First—Father Christmas!”

The children all cheered, as the unseen Boy made the fat little Father Christmas puppet turn head over heels onstage, and bow to them.

“The Dragon!”

Quickly the Boy hung the Father Christmas puppet on his hook, and took the bright green Dragon from the row of hanging puppets. He pulled the strings to make the Dragon run onstage.

The children shouted and hissed. The Boy made the Dragon open its fearsome red jaws at them, and huff out a puff of white smoke.

The children howled with joy.

“Saint George!” cried the Magician, and the Boy hastily hung up the Dragon puppet and reached for the bold little figure of Saint George, with his sword and shield, and the red cross on his white tunic.

But the Saint George puppet wasn't there.

The other puppets all hung from their strings behind the stage, waiting. There was Father Christmas, and the Turkish Knight with his curving sword, and the black-coated Doctor. But there was no Saint George.

The Boy looked round, in panic.

“SAINT GEORGE!” roared the Magician impatiently.

The Boy was terrified. He stepped out from behind the theatre and stood there shaking. “I'm sorry, Master,” he said in a very small voice, “Saint George seems to be missing.”

The children all booed loudly.

The Magician looked down with eyes so angry that the Boy was afraid he would turn him into a rabbit. The Magician's tall figure seemed to grow and grow, towering over the Boy, and he pointed a long finger at him.

“Then you must find him!” he hissed. The finger came very close, with its long sharp nail. “You will go where you must go, through all the Land of Story, until you find Saint George!”

He swung his arm so that his long dark-blue sleeve swung past the Boy's face, and the Boy saw gold moons and stars flash by, and felt himself falling, falling….

The Boy fell to the ground and opened his eyes.

The Magician and the children were gone. He seemed to be in a wood. The trees all looked oddly round and stiff, like the trees he had painted on the back wall of the stage.

And standing around him he saw, to his amazement, the puppets from his play: Father Christmas, the Turkish Knight, the
Doctor, and the Dragon. But they weren't puppets now. They were alive, and bigger than he was himself.

The Dragon was
much
bigger. He opened his red jaws and roared, with a far more impressive puff of smoke than the Boy ever gave him. Father Christmas, the Turkish Knight and the Doctor all screamed, and ran away. The Dragon ran after them, chasing them into the wood, roaring.