Free The Nowhere Emporium by Ross Mackenzie

remember my place.”
    “You are having doubts about our project,” Birdie said.
    For a long moment, he did not answer. Then he took a deep breath. “Not doubts exactly. More like … I’m struggling to understand the point of what we’re doing. Every night I stand on that stage and I watch the faces in the crowd, knowing that they believe our show to be nothing but trickery and misdirection. They think we’re fakes.”
    Birdie contemplated this.
    “And what would you like to do instead?” she said, her voice calm and warm. “Tell them magic is real?”
    “Of course not. I just want … I don’t know. Something … bigger. I want to change the way they see the world.”
    Birdie frowned at him, but she could not hide the twinkle in her eyes.
    “And what exactly might this ‘something bigger’ be?”
    The apprentice hesitated, and then reached into the silk-lined pocket, bringing out a black leather book, similar in size to a diary.
    “I have ideas,” he said, waving the book in the air. “Would you look at them for me, Birdie? I don’t expect any promises, but perhaps if you like some of my concepts, you can talk to him. He’ll listen to you—”
    He stopped. Vindictus Sharpe stood in the doorway like a great bear, his blue eyes blazing. He waved his hand, and the black book broke free of the young man’s grip, zipping across the room into his waiting palm.
    The apprentice cringed as his mentor thumbed through several of the pages.
    “You have spent a great deal of time on these ideas, haven’t you?”
    The apprentice felt a little hope rise in his chest. He nodded. “Yes, sir.”
    “And you believe you have the skill to pull these off successfully?”
    Another nod.
    Sharpe began to laugh. But it was not laughter of good humour, or affection. It was a laugh designed to hurt. “Then you are deluded,” he said, and he tossed the book to the floor.
    “Vindictus! Is that necessary?” said Birdie.
    “I will not tolerate the arrogance of a teenager with ideas above his station!” spat Sharpe. He strode to the dressing table and poured himself a large drink, downing it in one. Then he opened his arms, motioning around the room. “You think that you are better than this?”
    “No, sir,” said the apprentice. “Of course not. I don’t wish to seem ungrateful—”
    “Then keep your mouth shut. Focus your energy on the skillsI am trying to teach you – skills that are making you a wealthy young man, if I’m not mistaken.”
    “But—”
    Sharpe threw his glass with such force that his apprentice barely had time to react. The young man shot up a hand at the last second, and the glass changed direction, bending around his head, shattering against the wall.
    “Enough of this!” said Birdie. She did not raise her voice, but the severity of her tone was enough to capture even Sharpe’s attention. He turned away and sat at the dresser, filling another glass.
    Birdie placed a hand on the apprentice’s shoulder.
    “I think it best if you go ahead to the hotel and give Vindictus a little time to cool off. He was under great pressure this evening. Opening night in Edinburgh can crack even the hardest egg, yes?”
    The young man managed a half-smile. “As you say, I shall see you here tomorrow. Good night.”
    He kissed Birdie on the cheek and exited without another glance at Sharpe. He was so flustered that he did not remember to pick up his book from the floor.
    When she was sure the boy had gone, Birdie retrieved the book and sat on the comfortable couch, flipping through the pages.
    “Don’t chase him away,” she said without looking up. “He is not like anyone else. You can take almost any urchin from the streets and teach him how to turn a rag into a pretty scarf. But talent like his is rare, as you have insisted on telling me over the years. His ideas are exceptional.”
    Sharpe glared at her in the mirror.
    “He is not as talented as he believes. He needs a lot of work. He must be reminded