The Cask of Magnus
I step up and into the cabinet. Angela shuts the door behind me. She and my other three assistants spin the box.
Slower, ladies. You want me to throw up in here?
We rehearsed this trick hundreds of times. In rehearsal, it worked flawlessly. Naturally. This is our first live performance. If it goes as well as Magnus promised, I will be selling out crowds again soon.
The inside of the box is dark, but enough light seeps in beneath the four doors for me to move to where I need to.
“Move behind the purple curtain to your right.”
The voice is so low I have to reach to hear it. The tiny speaker is mounted in the dead center of the top of the box. It’s the only indicator that there might be more to this box than meets the eye. The sound quality isn’t great, but I can understand its prompts.
I widen my stance and slip behind the curtain.
My mind drifts back to Magnus. He invented the cask. My first impressions of him were he was insecure and guarded. I could never shake the feeling that he was hiding something. But you could say the same thing about everyone. He was shorter than average, stocky, bearded, and he smelled like cinnamon. He pursed his lips a lot. It was annoying. Also, I couldn’t get past how familiar he looked. But I couldn’t remember from where. It was…
