[PART 1:  .....THE HOUSE OF THE MAGICIAN DETECTIVE.....]

Chapter 1: Theodore & The Brick

I want to tell you about The 7 Layers of Space.

Depending on how you tilt your head, they look something like this:

You live in one of them. I'm guessing Earth, right? Wonderful Layer, Earth. Donuts and dolphins and the approximate perception of freewill – lots of good stuff. For now, let's start our journey down on a Layer known as Clank, with a boy named Theodore.

***

Theodore lives in The House of The Magician Detective. Depending on where you stand (and how you hold your book), The House looks like this:

 ***

Theodore sat and stared through the prism of stained glass that made up the ornate (if ill-kept) front window of The House of the Magician Detective. More precisely, he sat and stared at a very large and very strange Bird. This Bird's unlikely ample head violently pecked up and down in what appeared to be a tireless effort to eat The House.

Being that he'd lived in a magical House surrounded by frequent magical doings for much, but not quite all, of his eleven years, this particular incident didn't alert Theodore so much as it stirred a kind of deep alarm, like an irritating BEEP BEEP BEEP at the edge of an appealing dream.

You see, moments before, Theodore had enjoyed a rare sliver of relative contentment on this damp and dreary Scrunday morning. Not for the first time, he'd sat swallowed in an over-sized and well-worn leather chair, toes dangling inches above the ancient and perpetually dust-covered wooden floor. He deeply admired the resident Magician Detective's keen and enchanting card tricks, and he'd been devoutly practicing at the craft himself through a fog of fumbling perspiration. But just now, he'd allowed himself a hard-earned break from the task. Instead, he doodled in the margins of a beloved book, lost in the moment.

He doodled with an automatic efficiency, his eyes idly flitting from the lines he created to the words he read. This particular paragraph painted a vivid picture of a benevolent and wise turtle from the Ancient of Order of Magicians, who had once decreed, "Before the work is truly begun, we must accept ourselves for who we are!"

He'd read it and said aloud to himself (as he often did with Isobel gone and no one to talk to): "That's easy. I am the next Magician Detective," nodding as he spoke, the statement as matter-of-fact as waking up. It was the one thing in his life he was sure of.

Dust motes danced through sun-lit streaks that illuminated the page he drew upon. Lines intertwined with lines and became a mixture of recognizable objects twisting into abstract forms, his hand a blur of contentment. A thought nagged that he ought to practice with the deck of cards a bit more, but he'd let the self-inflicted responsibilities slip away, lost in his own intricate doodling pattern. Scribbling, he'd dreamt of the day that he would be accepted into the sacred ranks of the Ancient Order of Magicians, where he'd triumphantly don his own hat and overcoat and take on his first world-changing case.

And then he made an ancient mistake: he looked up.

Seeing what he saw, he knew in his heart that something was amiss and quite probably afoul. A Big Something, actually.

"A Traveler!" he cried, his books and pens tumbled from his lap in a familiar clatter.

He knew in his blood and bones that this rogue Bird was a Traveler, just as he knew that Travelers were always up to no good. He'd read about their mis-deeds in countless books much like the one he now doodled in: Travelers destroyed and dismantled. Many years before, it was The Magician Detective himself who had put an end to their dark designs to destroy the 7 Layers. Every fifth season, just before Harbinger's Day, he would sneak outside to see the rowdy parade that celebrated the defeat and destruction of The Travelers, where The Magician Detective would reluctantly preside on a float of streamers and fire, and Theodore would whole-heartedly admire him. Truthfully, Theodore was mostly in it for the rare taste of spun sugar and a chance to see The Magician Detective do some real tricks, but the adults seemed adamant, even giddy in their anger towards the looming straw-man effigy they burned in the Traveler's names at the parade's finale.

Theodore had seen much strangeness in his short life, but this beast defied logic, as if a child's stick figure drawing had somehow come to life – two large dark circles attached by a line, with rickety stick legs and wings that looked like flapping forks. But with so little form it still held a disturbing density, like the very air around it bent towards the thing.

And to make matters far worse, the bizarre creature had gotten ahold of something, Theodore was almost sure of it. He crept to the window and cupped his eyes over a colored pane to get a better view. Though blurred, bendy, and crimson through the colored glass, it looked like The Bird would have let out a laugh if its maw weren't so full. Did it somehow have a brick from the House?!?

Theodore saw and seized an opportunity to once again prove his worth and usefulness to his wise and wonderful guardian, The Magician Detective.

"GIANNNNT BIRRRRRRD ATTTACKKKKK!" he screamed, whooping like a little siren as he vaulted himself over the arm of the creaking chair and down the rusting spiral staircase. He kicked past a precarious box of glass orbs and leapt over their tumbles and crashes, one of them cackling as it cracked. He moaned low and twisted as he leapt down the four flights, trying to out-race his own fears and losing in the clumsy tangle of his own pre-adolescent legs.

He full-on tripped over an errant pile of mis-matched mannequin arms and his glasses flew from his face in a defiant arc, landing with a chatter and a clatter on the dusty floorboards next to an unused over-sized microscope.

He screeched to a sudden halt, slow and panting. He was nearly blind without them, though curiously accustomed to surviving that way.

Unbidden, a memory of a dew-soaked glimmering garden floated to the surface of his fertile mind. On a lost summer day, he'd taken his glasses off to read and his friend, enemy, co-conspirator, housemate, tormentor, and deepest inspiration, Isobel had snatched them and goaded him into chasing her into yet another lost corner of this magical House. He remembered the anger and confusion at barely being able to see as he spun around corners in pursuit, and he remembered it evaporating into laughter as he'd once again caught up to her in a tumble of limbs and wheels where they'd landed, in a tucked away room on the floor that connected to a Layer that he would some day come to know so well, called Gup. But most of all he remembered their shared wonder as they froze together at finding a moving tapestry of turquoise and gold butterflies lifting upwards towards a broken window pane, hundreds of them flying together as one, shimmering with a color he didn't yet have words for. They'd held their breath together as they watched the swarm float into the air in unison, its own giant set of flapping wings made up of hundreds of smaller creatures working together, the curious and beautiful sound like countless pages of countless books all being turned at once.

"Where are they going?" Theodore had whispered, breaking the spell.

"They're escaping. Someday I will, too," Isobel had replied.

Theodore snapped back into the present moment, eyes blurred and sweat now pouring down his brow, the urgency of the invading Bird like a song caught in his mind. This was an Emergency, and he had to alert the Magician Detective, but he couldn't well do that half-blind.

An age-old expert at the art of foot-grabbing, he shimmied and wiggled his bare toes through the well-practiced exploratory motions of searching the ancient floorboards for his errant eyewear. He knew that if he moved his foot too quickly, he risked breaking them (again) and/or getting a ghastly magical splinter (the likes of which cause both troubling dreams and very weird gas). His foot grasped forward and caught an eyeglass arm and clenched it with his toes. In an uncharacteristically graceful motion he dipped his foot behind his back, flipped the glasses from his foot to his hand, and popped them back on. He noticed that the left lens had fallen out again. No time for that now.

Somewhat recovered, he dashed and then skidded around a corner to slow again with mock-composure as he sidled up to his destination: The Forbidden Office of The Magician Detective.

To his mind, the whole "Forbidden" thing was more of an honorary title or a general guidepost than a proclamation. Nonetheless, the Magician Detective didn't exactly welcome (or in fact always notice) unannounced intrusions.

Theodore felt sure that this would be different than the time he'd spied those mummies smuggling paintings into the building next door (which turned out to be their house, but how was he to know since they were always on vacation in their submarine).

The Magician Detective was, at least to Theodore's mind and world, the coolest creature he'd ever known or seen. A man who had demonstrated on multiple occasions that he could not only throw and manipulate giant balls of energetic fire, but who was also extremely good at card tricks was, as far as Theodore could see, more interesting and talented than anyone ever.

Take note as we peer inside, The Magician Detective's Forbidden Office is a small but deeply important Area of Interest among our 7 Layers of Space. From here, the current, practicing and residing Magician Detective watches, records, and guides aspects and elements of The 7 Layers that might otherwise fall into ruin (or at the least confusion and disarray). That's the theory, anyhow. The Office holds many secrets and deep truths within. Plus, there are lots of cool things to look at. Of late, The Magician Detective had been spending an awful lot of time in there. That is, nearly all of his time unless persuaded to find a cool deck of cards or a snack.

The cramped Office felt more like an over-stuffed closet than a place of business. The Magician Detective whipped his lanky arms and thin head in synchronized thrusts, hunched behind an enormous desk that took up much of the tiny, book-lined room. Carved from the trunk of an ancient, knotted tree, the desk dipped down in the center beneath the weight of the countless piles that teetered upon it. On the floor, a waste-basket hollowed from the foot of some unknown (and possibly purple) leviathan overflowed with scribbled scraps of grid paper and half-finished snacks. Above the yellow fedora of The Magician Detective, the brittle spines of leather volumes threatened to topple from their perches into piles of maps of unknown lands and seas. There was no floor in sight. Behind The Magician Detective, Theodore could see a flash of red, where he knew a tiny door stood. He felt it there.

Theodore cleared his throat in as adult a manner as he could conjure. "Sorry, sir, I don't mean to disturb you," he apologized from the doorway. The Magician Detective's head and hat darted between a diagram of an odd jellyfish-like creature and a book filled with sheets of more gridded paper that glowed slightly. It illuminated his angular features from below and somehow made him even more menacing and impressive. He paused to pick up one of his many decks of cards, effortlessly fanning them with one hand and turning a page with another.

The Detective's normally placid face shot up, now fervent, contorting, and scanned the room. He relaxed and squinted as he looked at the spot where Theodore stood. His grey eyes cleared.

"Oh, Theodore. The boy. When did you come in? Do you need...food?" he said, as if rising from a fog. "No time for card tricks, but I wouldn't mind a few of those Moss-covered Gaskets that Ms. Rumpert bought at the Sweet Shoppe..."

"Right. Yes. Well, I'll see if I can find some of those disgusting things, Sir, and Ms. Rumpert quit again (actually several months ago), but you see, the thing I was screaming about – and I apologize for the screaming – but the thing I was screaming about, was..." he paused to raise an eyebrow and take a breath, creating a sense of drama: "The GIANT BIRD that I saw in the front yard!" Theodore leaned over the threshold of the doorway, and as he angled his body inward he could feel a temperature drop mixed with an electrical charge inside the Forbidden Office.

The Magician Detective looked up over his gold-rimmed spectacles, though he continued writing as he did. An eyebrow raised up, ever-so-slightly.

And then, losing all of his nerve like a deflated balloon and with far less dramatic flourish, Theodore continued, "Or I think it was...Sir? I've never...detected anything like it." He tried to emphasize the word 'detected' as if to give insight into the fact that he was ready for more detecting should it present itself. He paused, doing some inner math to try and rally, "I think it might have been...a Traveler!" As far as he knew, he'd never seen one, but he felt reasonably sure that this strange Bird would be one. Theodore caught sight of himself in a dusty mirror and straightened his wrinkled shirt and his writhing mass of curls as best he could, trying to look the part of a responsible would-be Magician.

"Ha!" the Magician let out a rare single bark of a laugh.

Puzzled at the moment of uncomfortable mirth, Theodore held his breath in anticipation of the long-term effect of his grave news report. He imagined the flurry of events that would unfurl and propel them into heroic team-based adventures that would inevitably end with the two of them either battling and/or riding upon the backs of a variety of sassy and ornery dragons. There would be so many high fives, he'd scarcely be able to keep up.

"The Bird is at it again, eh? A Traveler indeed, the poor old gal, well-spotted, I can't imagine what it must be like for her." The Detective dismissed with a wave of his hand, his head shaking with an edge of knowing pity to his voice, a small facet of some indecipherable grown-up code.

"Do you know her?" Theodore puzzled.

As The Magician spoke, he snatched stray papers with eerie precision from the swaying piles, swapping them for various exotic face cards. "This House is, as you know, under many magical protections, shields, all kinds of sparkly and loud things." Theodore nodded along knowingly, not really knowing at all. "We are Clank's sacred nexus at the crossroads of The 7 Layers of Space. And I am its Master," The Magician went on, straightening his coat for emphasis. At this point he could have been talking to the questionably-affixed chandelier. "If it were threatened by an anyone or anything or a Bird, I would of course know." The Magician nodded and looked from book to diagram again and scribbled another note, already removed from the conversation.

"Of course," Theodore agreed, not really knowing what he agreed to.

The Magician pulled a coin from behind his own ear and placed it gently atop a swaying stack, nodding again with unknown satisfaction.

"Yes, of course. But Sir...if I may," Theodore both raised and deepened his voice slightly and spoke more slowly than necessary, "I believe that she stole a whole Brick from the front of the HOUSE!" He nodded and waited, fully expecting that this detail would shock the infinitely knowledgable Detective as it sunk in like a slow-moving wave. Theodore's unexpected prowess and demonstrated expertise would finally be rewarded, and his own little yellow fedora and matching overcoat were sure to be both close at hand (and well-fitted).

For a slim moment, The Detective appeared to at least consider the idea, lifting the opposite eyebrow and scratching beneath his hat. He weighed the information, but just as quickly shook his head and replied, "Theodore, not only would such a thing be dangerous, it would be catastrophic. And impossible. The concentrated power found in a single manifestation, like a Brick, of a dominant Thru-spot, such as our House, is the equivalent of most of the bombs. Ever. Loosening one from the foundation of the Touchpoint of this Thru-spot would endanger it's six correlating spaces, and simultaneously," he upended a stack of teetering books with an effective crash, spilling them before Theodore and causing him to jump, "hold enough power to rip a hole in reality. Thankfully, this home is an extension of my many powers. Don't you think that I'd sense such a profound transgression?"

"Yes?" Theodore responded, aware of the gist but not entirely sure what 'transgression' meant, either.

The Magician Detective heaved a sigh and snapped another huge book book shut. The light left his face and he looked at Theodore squarely in the eyes, finally giving him his full attention. The Detective looked tired.

"Theodore, you simply must get over this sort of thing. I don't know what to do with you. You're yelling after every dancing vampire, talking clock, or monstrous judo lizard that happens through our back yard. It's all everyday business here!" He paused, and let out a sigh of disappointment that cut right through the young boy. "It isn't The Magician Detective's way," he said, shaking his head.

Theodore's face brightened red and he felt a large lump form in his throat. He didn't dare speak.

Inasmuch as he could muster, The Magician Detective momentarily softened, "I know that it must be...difficult... searching for distractions and purpose and the like. While this is of course a place for you to live, it isn't your home, and thus it will never be a traditional or fun or wholesome or loving place to grow up. I assure you, I can empathize with your disorienting sense of... alone-ness! But I'm afraid you must accept your situation and move forward. We are all alone in the end," he declared with a firm nod, closing the matter at hand, at least by his own reckoning, proud to have administered so much wisdom.

An awkward moment passed. Theodore mumbled, "Yes, sir."

"I understand that it is often unpleasant for you..." He thought for a second, "...to be here. This House will always be strange, and of course with the girl gone and no real friends..." he laughed a little as if this joke was obvious and shared and not incredibly painful to Theodore. Theodore pushed back the urge to hide his face. "But you must accept that I have enormous and urgent matters to attend to! Magician things. Detective things!"

Having learned very little from past experiences, Theodore stood waiting for the part of The Magician Detective's speech where a glimmer of uplifting optimism arrived. Instead, the Detective re-buried his hat and head into his cards and books, and Theodore realized that what little mental attention the Magician Detective had divided for him had been used up.

And with a stray gesture from the Detective's hand, the door to the Forbidden Office closed on Theodore's face, once again knocking his glasses to the floor.

Chapter 1 sample from Theodore & the 7 Layers of Space, Book1, Brick & Bird
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