Come See the Fair by Gavriel Savit

Author:Gavriel Savit [Savit, Gavriel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2023-04-11T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Eva swallowed hard; the barrel of Gabbermann’s gun was quivering.

It all happened so fast.

Henry’s closed eyes snapped open, his flat palms shoving out hard into the empty air. Gabbermann flew backward, flung across the room by an Impossibly strong force, and his pistol went off, spitting bright flame at the ceiling. Henry was pushing Eva, yelling, “Go, go, go!” There was plaster and dust in the air, Gabbermann halfway through the back wall, and Eva tore open the door of the room and ran, Henry behind and then beside her, doors opening in the corridor all around them, eyes and voices, and they were back in the stairwell, the lobby, the street, racing through traffic, pushing pedestrians, dodging and sprinting, turn after turn, deeper and deeper into the city.

Blocks away, they slid to a panting, heaving halt. All around them, the city rumbled and clattered. “Oh my goodness,” said Eva. “Oh my goodness.”

Henry’s eyes were wide, his cheeks red; the corners of his lips had begun to curl into an unbelieving grin.

“Henry,” said Eva. “Henry, what did you do?”

“I don’t know!” said Henry. “I don’t know. I just felt all this, this tingling power, and I thought, I just thought, No, and, and…”

Eva peered back in the direction from which they’d come. “Is anyone following us?”

Henry shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh my goodness.”

Henry gave a little chuckle, and Eva slugged him in the arm. “I told you this was a bad idea.”

“Sure,” said Henry. “But it wasn’t me who invented our sick mother.”

Eva spluttered unsuccessfully for an excuse. Who was this brash boy in Henry’s clothing? Not the quiet observer she had come to know, not her contemplative artist—a live wire.

She watched him run a hand through his rumpled hair.

“Well, whatever else is the case,” said Henry, “it’s clear to me now that Mr. Magister isn’t what he seems. He’s hiding something.”

“Hiding what?”

Henry set his jaw. “I’m not sure yet. But if we don’t find out in time—mark my words, we’ll regret it.”

He had just reached out to hail a cab when Henry realized with shock that he’d left his pencils in Gabbermann’s hotel room; he couldn’t draw up the fare to the grounds even if he’d had the energy, and he certainly didn’t now—once the exhilaration of escape wore off, it became clear quickly that pushing Gabbermann like that had utterly depleted him.

This wasn’t a complete disaster—he had more pencils in his Cold Storage chamber—but neither of them had any cash on hand, Eva having left her bag beside her chaise in the Pavilion.

This meant that they had to walk back down to the Fair—and it was very hot.

The way was long—eight miles, give or take—and Henry soon grew red and sweaty, his pace slackening with every passing step. Eva insisted that they ought to stop in at Overstreet House on their way down (“just for fifteen minutes—just to rest a bit”), but Henry flatly refused. There were too many questions: Why had Mr. Magister

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