A moment later a small, dark form appeared at the lip of the basket. It hesitated for a moment, then darted free and scurried over to the magician. Several more forms followed. Scorpions—scores of them. I shivered as they scuttled their way up Awi Bubu's legs, onto his chest, and across his arms. one even climbed up his neck to rest on his bald head, like a macabre hat. Throughout it all, other than playing his flute, the magician did not so much as twitch a muscle.
As the audience held its breath, there was a disturbance at the back of the theater. "Hey! You can't go in there without a ticket!"
I craned my neck around to see two heavily cloaked men walking down the aisles, searching the faces in the theater. More scorpions! only this time, of the human variety.
I scrunched down low in my seat, grabbed Snuffles's hat, and plopped it down on my own head, trying not to think of lice. I held my breath, hoping Gerton and Fell wouldn't spot me.
The strange music chose that moment to clatter to a stop. The two human scorpions came to a halt in the aisle, giving the porters a chance to catch up with them. As they were escorted out of the theater, Awi Bubu opened his eyes and, with surprising grace, rose to his feet, the scorpions still clinging to him. The audience gasped.
Next to me, Will shuddered violently. "That's disgusting, that is."
"There must be a trick to it," I whispered back to him. "Scorpions are deadly poisonous. Perhaps he's had all their stingers removed."
Will cut a glance my way. "Do you always try to ruin the suspense, miss?"
Before I could reply, there was a nudge in my ribs. "Can I 'ave me 'at back, miss?"
"Sorry," I said, handing it to Snuffles.
"Shh!" someone behind us hissed.
I scowled, but was saved from answering when the music began again, coming in short staccato bursts. The scorpions changed their direction and began to crawl off the magician. However, instead of heading back to the basket, they scuttled to the edge of the stage. A woman screamed, and the audience reared back in their seats.
"Quiet now," the announcer reminded us. "You don't want to provoke the magician's beasties."
The entire audience (myself included) held its breath as the scorpions hovered at the edge of the stage. Finally, they gave one last wave of their claws and swarmed back into the basket.
The audience relaxed a bit as the magician went over to secure the scorpions in the basket. Before he had finished, there was a loud thumping from within the pyramid. After two more thumps, something crashed right through and onto the stage. We all gasped in surprise as a mummy lumbered out. I glanced at Will, whose eyes were as big and round as guineas. Honestly. It was clearly a man wrapped up in linen; how could anyone be fooled by this? They wouldn't be if they had ever seen a real mummy. Especially if they'd been unfortunate enough to see a real mummy on the move, as I had. I stifled a shudder.
"It's right creepy, ain't it, miss?" Will whispered, mistaking my shudder as having to do with the mummy onstage. Not wanting to ruin his enjoyment, I simply said, "Fascinating." (Fascinating is such a lovely word—it covers so many possibilities.)
The mummy shuffled around onstage a bit while the audience oohed and aahed. Then the mummy paused, as if noticing the audience for the first time. Slowly and with great theatrics, he began to lurch toward the audience as if he planned to come right off the stage and into our midst.
"Awi Bubu seems to have lost control of the mummy," the announcer said in a breathless voice. "Quick now, before it's too late, toss coins at him. Coins are the only thing that will stop him."
Oh, for heaven's sake. What kind of operation was this anyway? There was a halfhearted smattering of coins onto the stage. From the corner of my eye, I saw Will, Ratsy, and Snuffles all toss something toward the mummy. That's when I began to get angry. Will and his brothers had so little, as did most of the other people in this rundown joke of a theater. How dare the management try to milk even more of their hard-earned money from them?
Finally, as if beaten back by the coins, the mummy retreated into the pyramid. The audience settled down, and I shifted in my seat.
The torches dimmed and two stagehands dressed as Egyptian slaves hurried out onto the stage. While they laid bricks down on the floor, Awi Bubu went to one of the fake palm trees and lifted a bronze dish from behind it.
"For Awi Bubu's next amazing feat of magic, we need a volunteer from the audience. Who will volunteer?"
Like deranged jack-in-the-boxes, Will, Snuffles, and Ratsy leaped to their feet, their hands thrust high into the air. Awi Bubu studied the audience carefully before raising a long skinny arm and pointing at Ratsy.
He gave a hoot of glee, and Will and Snuffles groaned in disappointment. An usher arrived at the end of the row to escort Ratsy up onto the stage. Once Ratsy was there, Awi Bubu positioned him on the bricks, face-down, then set the vessel on the floor by his head. One of the stagehands lit some incense, and Awi Bubu poured a few drops from a flask into the bronze dish.
A jolt of recognition shot through me. The Great Awi Bubu was reenacting an ancient Egyptian oracular ceremony, the very same one Aloysius Trawley had forced me to perform a few short weeks ago! Whoever this magician was, he clearly knew something about real ancient Egyptian practices. Which made him very interesting indeed.
"Remove all thoughts from your mind," the magician instructed Ratsy in a low, singsongy voice. "Let it become a blank slate by which the gods can communicate." Then he began to chant. "Horus, we call upon your power and strength. Open this child's eyes to your wisdom."
I sat bolt upright in my seat. Those were the exact words that Trawley had used. Did this Awi Bubu belong to Trawley's Arcane Order of the Black Sun—a secret society dedicated to matters of the occult? Is that why Trawley's men had been so comfortable barging into the theater?
As the smell of incense in the theater began to overpower the smell of gin, Awi Bubu asked Ratsy a question. "What is your name?"
"Ratsy."
"What is your occupation?"
"A rat catcher." I was suddenly very glad Will hadn't been picked; he'd have been forced to confess he was a pickpocket in front of this rough crowd.
"Where do you live?"
"Nottingham Court, off Drury Lane."
The magician turned to the audience. "Who has a question they'd like to ask the oracle?"
Hands shot into the air. How could people be so gullible? How could they not tell this was all a hoax? But no one seemed to suspect a thing. They were all waving their arms in the air, hoping Awi Bubu would pick them.
"Will me old man's ship come in soon?" a young clerk clutching his hat in his hand called out.
"No. He will be in debtors' prison by the end of the year," Ratsy intoned in a hollow voice.
A woman sprang to her feet. "Will my son get better?"
"'E'll be right as rain come next Tuesday."
She closed her eyes in relief.
"What 'orse should I bet on this Saturday?" a man shouted.
"Pride o' the Morning," Ratsy said. The man—along with half the occupants of the theater—hastily scribbled the name down on a scrap of paper.
"Will there be any more funny business like them mummies?" an old man asked, his question causing the others to quiet down.
There was a pause, then: "The Black Sun shall rise up in a red sky before falling to earth, where a great serpent will swallow it."
I gasped. Those were the very words I had uttered to Trawley! How did Ratsy know? Had Awi Bubu slipped him a note? Whispered in his ear? Surely this proved the magician was one of Trawley's men.
"It is time to come back to earth, my child," Awi Bubu said gently.
Ratsy blinked, then scrambled to his feet and looked sheepish. "Will I 'ave a chance to do magic?" he asked.