“I can’t imagine what happened to it,” said
Michael. “Oh, how upset I am! I did see
it on my cake. And I put it in a teacup. And when I looked again, gone it was. And
now everyone will think it was I who filched the check.”
“Nobody will think anything of the kind,” I
said. “There’s Alpin and Fiona and the guests at your party and I, of course,
between you and the check to start with and aside from someone totally unknown.
I am the person responsible and will go face the Magi and tell them what has
happened.”
“Not until every stone is turned,” said Darcy.
But when not a stone was left unturned, there I
was, having something awful to say again and wanting to less than ever. But it
was not I who got to see the Magician Kings. It was Mr. Dullahan. After we had
searched for the check everywhere imaginable, he said it was time he went to
see those gentlemen.
He drove Death’s coach as far east as necessary
to reach the Magi’s palatial workshop and when he got there he began to knock
on the door.
It was black Balthazar’s page, Adar-Malik, that
heard the knocking. He looked out a window and saw Uncle Ernest and went to his
employers and told them there was a bill collector beating at the door.
“Bring him to us,” said Balthazar, putting on
his jeweled turban to receive Mr. Dullahan properly. The other two kings did
the same with their crowns and Adar-Malik brought Mr. Dullahan to the triple
throne room.
“I’m not a bill collector,” said Uncle Ernest.
“I’m Death’s coachman. I’m wearing a tailcoat today because I’m dressed for the
office party which is tonight after work. I’ve come for your majesties. Your
time is up.”
“Ah,” said snow white Melchior fluffing his
flowing beard. “This has to be one of those practical jokes unscrupulous people play at
Childremas.”
“Isn’t it a bit late for that?” said red Caspar.
“The day of the Holy Innocents was yesterday.”
Uncle Ernest explained that this was no
practical joke. It was a very serious matter. He had come to escort the Magi to
the next world. Their sojourn among mortals was over. Death had decided that
the Magi were definitely outdated. Giving things away was no longer what it
used to be, most especially giving out checks that were blank. The Magi had
nothing more to do on this side of the universe.
“Now, don’t make a big thing out of this,” said
Uncle Ernest. “It would be much worse if someone did come to try and collect
the check. Who knows into what hands your whole business might pass? If you’re
gone, that won’t happen. They can’t take if from you if you’ve taken it with
you.”
The three kings looked at one another.
“He says we can take it with us,” said Caspar.
“But we won’t be able to use it from where
we’re going,” said Balthazar.
“What good will it do then?” sighed Melchior.
Then Adar-Malik let someone else into the
triple throne room. No no Darcy bowed to the royal majesties and then turned to
his father.
“Dad,
I´m going to ask you not to take them
away.”
“Hesitate and reflect,” Mr. Dullahan said to
his son. “Think that it is not me you are asking this from. You’re asking
Death.”
“For a little time,” nodded Darcy. “Only that. I’m
looking for that check and I mean to find it. Nobody will notice these
gentlemen are still on this side before 12th Night. Give me until then. It´s all I ask
for.”
Mr. Dullahan shrugged. “Well,” he said, “since
I can’t refuse...”
King Melchior descended with some difficulty
from his throne and laid a hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “Lad,” he said, “if you
find that check the first thing we will give you is a larger hat. The one you
are wearing is too small for you and must be very uncomfortable to have to balance
on your head.”
Darcy was indeed wearing a black top hat that
was too small for him. But he could explain why.
“This hat was made to be worn by the best
coachman among the Sidhe,” he said. “If you are a good driver, it won’t fall
off your head, no matter the speed at which you drive or the cruent the road.
But thank you anyway.”
“No, thank you,”
said the Magi and they bowed to Darcy.
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