“But how are we supposed to find a pirate?” asked Mandy. “You can’t just go out and get one.”

“Hrm.” Montresor bent over Chris and sniffed. “You smell of magic. Come here.” He gripped Chris with his hard, skeletal fingers and hurried him off toward a distant shelf. The withered old man moved far faster than one would expect, but with her purposeful stride Mandy was soon neck in neck with him.

Rushing through the cellar, Chris caught the scents of other lives—knights and warriors, fierce and bold and energetic, together with the more subtle scents of lives which seemed little on the outside but were lived deeply.

Montresor jerked to a halt and pulled out a bottle of wine with an ornate picture of a wizard on its label. It had a deep, dark, pungent aroma with hints of book dust. “Drink this.” He uncorked the bottle and poured a sip of midnight blue liquid into a glass he’d pulled out of his pocket. Chris took hold of the cup and drank, his hands shaking.

And his mind was flooded with magic.