Bugs's hands went a flurrying over the bicycle again: a hammer rang, nuts and bolts flew out. Sparks sprayed comically overhead. When he raised it up, he held a rifle. Bugs ripped off the frock coat, turned it inside out, and it was a military uniform. A bugle zipped from a side pocket, and Bugs blew taps. The rifle went to his shoulder, he sighted over the bicycle seat, and fired a salute. Then he jammed the rifle barrel-first into the ground, jerked it sharply toward him, and the wrapped body fell through a trapdoor.
The rabbit danced clog-footed for a moment, shook the rifle until it became a bicycle again, mounted and rode off until he was a speck in the misty green distance.
'Hope you enjoyed it,' Cole Collins said.
Tom turned euphorically toward the boxing fan and saw that now he was the magician again, in his striped suit. He looked tired and joviaclass="underline" any elderly uncle showing nephew and nephew's friend a good time.
'I see you did,' Collins said. He extended his hand and set it carefully on Tom's head. 'You wonderful child.'
Tom's expression of joy turned rigid.
'Do you know what day it is?'
Tom shook his head, and the magician gently lifted his hand.
'It is Sunday. I would be very remiss if I did not include some religious instruction in this little show. On Sundays, it is always best to display a little piety.'
He clapped his hands, and the wing of the set before them began to revolve. The music which had buzzed cheerily about them altered; settled into a smoother, still pumping rhythm. Tom began to tap his foot, and the magician nodded approvingly.
The set revolved completely, showing a long refectory table with wine goblets and plates; the table sat before a window showing a long green Italian distance, a brilliant sunset. Thirteen robed men sat behind the table, their heads and bodies in attitudes as familiar as the rabbit, but not as immediately recognizable.
Del laughed out loud. Then Tom did recognize the scene and the postures — eleven men leaning or looking toward the tall bearded man in the middle, one selfconsciously looking elsewhere.
'It's that painting,' he said. Collins smiled.
The music tightened up, became a fraction louder. A piano hit a rolling stride. The men at the table began moving their hands in unison, then rose, danced in front of the table and sang:
La ba la ba, la ba la ba!
La ba la ba, la ba la ba!
We got fish for suppah,
First one thing, then anothah,
We got fish for suppah,
First one thing, then anothah.
We ain't got no menu,
But our fish will send you.
We got fish for suppah,
First one thing, then anothah.
Last night we had bread and fish,
Tonight we got fish and bread.
Tomorrow night we gonna change the dish,
And have plain fish instead.
Ah!
We got fish for suppah,
But first one thing, then anothah,
We got fish for suppah,
First one thing an' anothah.
A saxophone slipped out from beneath a robe as easily as Bugs's bugle from his military jacket. The squat bearded man holding it breathed out a solo while others waved their hands and did a buck-and-wing. Another disciple produced a trumpet and blasted. Strutting and hand-waving from the disciples: after the chorus they all showed their teeth and shouted:
AH!
We got fish for suppah,
But first one thing, then anothah,
[the stage began to revolve again]
We got fish for suppah,
But first one thing an' anothah.
[men and table now out of sight]
The music had ended. They were looking at a flat black wall. 'Simple pyrotechnics,' Collins said. 'Now, would you like to advance to Level Three and fly?'
'Oh, yes,' both boys said at once.
14
Then all blew away like dust, like'a dream, and it was night, much colder than before —
and he was skimming, naked and wrapped in a fur blanket, along in a sleigh with Coleman Collins. Snow blew in a tempest about them, half-obscuring the horse ahead. They were following a track through dark trees, going up; plunging blindly on, the horse flickered gray against the surrounding white.
The magician turned his face to Tom, and the boy shrank back against the cold metal edge of the sleigh. The face was bone, hard and white as a skull. 'I have taken you aside,' were the words that came from this apparition. 'Everything is just as it was, but we have stepped aside for a moment. For a private word.' The face was no longer bone, but animal — the face of a white wolf. 'I forbid you nothing. Nothing,' uttered the awful face. 'You may go anywhere — you may open any door. But, little bird, remember that you must be prepared to accept whatever you find.' The long jaws spread in a smile filled with teeth.
The horse drove madly on through the buffeting wind and snow.
'What night is this?' Tom cried out.
'The same, the very same.'
'And did I fly?'
The wolf laughed,
You may open any door.
Uphill into deeper night and tearing cold; the horse working against the snow.
'It is the same night, but six months later,' said the wolf. 'It is the same night, but in another year,' and laughed. Tom's whole body suffered wkh the cold, tried to flee back into itself.
'Did I fly?'
Collins said through his wolfs face, 'You are mine. Nothing that is in magic will be unknown to you, boy. For you are no one else's but mine.'
The trees fell behind them, and they seemed to streak upward through an utter barrenness.
We got fish for suppah: Jesus doing a buck-and-wing.
The wolf said: 'Once I was you. Once I was Del.' He turned and grinned at the freezing boy wrapped in fur. 'But I learned from a great magician. The great magician became my partner, and together we toured Europe until he did an unspeakable thing. After he did the unspeakable thing, we could no longer remain together — we had become mortal enemies. But he had taught me all he knew, and I too was a great magician by then. So I came here, to my kingdom.'
'Your kingdom,' Tom said.
The wolf ignored him. 'He taught me to do one thing in particular. To put a hurtin' on things. His words. He spoke that way. And finally I put a hurtin' on him.' The long teeth glittered.
'Did you put a hurtin' on the train?' Tom asked.
The wolf lashed the horse: not a wolf, but a man with a wolfs head. 'No one but you will understand your future. You will be as the man who brings forth diamonds, and they say, is this pitch? You will be as he who brings forth wine, and they say, is this sand?' The long snout swiveled toward Tom. 'When that happens, boy, put a hurtin' on them.'
The horse reached the top of the rise and halted. It steamed in the frigid air, hanging its neck. Tom saw foam spring out on the horse's flanks.
'Look down,' the figure beside him commanded.
Tom looked over the steaming, foaming horse into a long white vista. The land dropped, the green firs resumed. At the bottom of the valley lay a frozen lake. Above it, on the far end, Shadowland sat on its cliff like a jeweled dtollhouse. Its windows gleamed.