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to death for taking part in that stupid conjuring trick. People were saying they were witches. The rest of us could have gotten killed or trampled to death. We didn’t know where you were!”
    â€œYou should have stuck with us,” Red said. “It was fine.”
    â€œAnd what happens tomorrow if there’s a curfew? Or a lockdown? How do we beg? How do we eat? Does the magician know how to fix that?”
    A short silence was followed by sniggers. Flea realized that he’d missed something.
    â€œKeep up, moron,” Big said. “They’ve invited us to eat with them tomorrow night. It’s a big deal, a feast with wine and everything. And there’s no curfew, either. The Temple wouldn’t dare.”
    â€œNo one told me!”
    â€œDo us a favor,” Big said. “Don’t say another word.”
    â€œAnd do me a favor,” Yesh said. “Spend some time with us and get to know us a bit better. Will you, Flea? Please?”
    Flea felt the force of the magician’s clever, intense eyes and looked away.
    Yesh said, “We’ve got a tough one here, friends. Going to have to do more than my usual tricks to get him interested.”
    Flea looked for Jude, but he wasn’t there. “One day you’ll meet a real magician who’ll blast you off the face of the earth with lightning bolts,” he muttered.
    â€œUntil then, you’ve just got me.”
    â€œWe should have robbed you.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t have gotten much.”
    â€œI mean after you’d collected from the crowd.”
    â€œWe don’t do that.” He smiled a steady, warm smile that somehow spread beyond Flea to take in the rest of the gang. “Now, can we join you? That looks like a fine shelter. Did you make it yourselves?”
    And in no time at all, Yeshua and his followers were crowding into the gang’s alleyway, and then they were sitting down by the shelter as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
    Flea shook his head. All he felt was a profound suspicion. He had to admit that the magician had a sort of power—he couldn’t think of any other word—that could pull smiles out of a person like a butcher dragging the guts from an animal, but did it really make them happier? Did it change a thing?
    When Clump asked Yeshua how he did the trick with the egg and the dove, Yeshua opened his eyes wide and said, “Trick? How dare you? Have none of you heard of magic?”
    â€œBut can you…” Clump’s voice trailed off.
    The gang exchanged glances. They knew exactly what he wanted to ask. A month ago Clump had stolen the gang’s takings and bought a cure for his twisted foot from a traveling doctor. The foul-smelling ointment had done no good at all except earn him a black eye for taking the money and a foot that reeked of camel dung and rancid lard, which was probably what the ointment was made of.
    â€œI know what you want,” the magician said. “You want to know if I can cure people. The answer is yes, I can sometimes.”
    The magician looked around the gang, meeting and holding their eyes. Once, twice, he did it and then, without anyone uttering a word, Gaga stood and approached him as if he were on a string. The magician put his hands on Gaga’s head, looked upward, muttered something, then bent down and whispered in Gaga’s ear. Gaga smiled uncertainly, cleared his throat, smiled shyly, and said, “Thank you,” in a little hoarse voice.
    They were the first words any of the Temple Boys had ever heard Gaga speak. Everyone got up and made a fuss of him—slapping him on his back, asking him to say something else. Everyone apart from Flea, who felt sick in a way he could not understand.
    He slouched to the end of the alleyway where the woman and her daughter were standing by their carpet and staring at the gathering with undisguised curiosity.
    The followers pooled their money and two