This is the fourteenth chapter of the serialization novel I am working on, The Magician – < click here to read the other chapters if you missed them.
Recompense
Ignace laid on the bed on his stomach, his right cheek pressed into the sheet-covered mattress as pillows remained where they had been tossed. He was extremely uncomfortable in this position, but it was a necessity. It allowed access to the wounds that had been created on his back.
“You shouldn’t try to press your luck so hard, old friend,” Kaspar murmured sardonically as he pressed a clean, wet, white washcloth to the bare skin. Ignace gritted his teeth, but a hiss emitted nevertheless.
“I will never stop fighting,” Ignace growled, his voice muffled slightly as a result of his position on the mattress. “You should know this by now.”
Kaspar did not answer, just as Ignace had expected. Instead, he pulled the now bloodied cloth from Ignace’s back and tossed it onto the small pile on the floor with a scornful sigh.
Ignace knew Kaspar thought he was foolish. He had underestimated the vigilance of the surveillance Lorenzo had kept him under. And he was caught once again.
Vitto was ordered to mete out a punishment Ignace would never forget in an empty storeroom in the basement of the theater. Never in the week of a performance had the whip struck so hard or with such an intensity of lashes as it had just earlier that day. But the furor with which Lorenzo spoke to him told Ignace he had crossed a line.
Though he gritted his teeth against the pain Kaspar was trying not to inflict upon him to clean the wounds, he smiled as he remembered just how difficult he had made it for Lorenzo to exert his influence once they were in the storeroom. He had fought with the director in a battle of wills once more. And since he was not weary from a performance this time, he was able to remain stubborn and exhibited more bravado for a much longer period of time.
It had enraged Lorenzo even more. It had cost him the level-headedness the director preferred to exude when he was in a performance week in a new location, especially one with the significance Allium held. And now, Ignace lay prone on a mattress, his back bloodied from lash marks for the effort. But Lorenzo was also somewhere in the hotel in hiding as well, angry that he had to mitigate the damage that was now done.
Since they were renting more than half the floors of an upscale hotel downtown, there were more staff that had to be paid to keep their mouths closed as the injured man was brought back to his room. There were also the people Lorenzo had to pay off to concoct a story that would be believable by the media as to why he had to force his star into a car and hold up downtown traffic. There was also the social media backlash that Lorenzo had to find and bury.
No one needed to know the darkest secrets of Malatesta’s Traveling Show. If word were to get out that Lorenzo Malatesta recruited his talent by magically enslaving them to do his bidding, he would be finished. That kind of douceur did not come cheap. Lorenzo hated parting with any of his ill-gotten gains.
“You know you punish the rest of us when you anger him so,” Kaspar said as he gingerly wiped at another lacerated mark. “Lorenzo will work the rest of us harder because he knows he can.”
The pathomotus flinched and groaned.
“I will be free of him, eventually.”
Kaspar sighed and clicked his tongue.
“Ignace, you need to give up. You have more freedom than some of us have. He cannot fully bend you to his will like he can me. That should mean more to you than anyone else yet you foolishly try to test your limits. You haven’t learned anything, have you?”
Ignace remained prone, silently processing the words Kaspar was saying. They had had this conversation before. He was sure they would have it again. That thought depressed him as his old friend spoke again.
“You speak of freedom as if it is something attainable. It is not. It never will be. We are far too valuable to Lorenzo for him to allow our independence.”
Ignace groaned before speaking. “We are home, Kaspar, back at my home. I am back in my city. You don’t think Lorenzo planned this stop along our new country tour just to remind me that I am enslaved? He means to test me even as I push back against him.”
Kaspar had blotted the last of the blood away and had begun to apply a salve of comfrey to the jagged cuts. He replied quietly as Ignace flinched at his touch.
“I think he means to show you off. Perhaps you are correct in that you would be free. What is stopping your family from finding you?” He gently touched Ignace’s shoulder. “I am finished, by the way.”
Ignace pushed himself up and pulled his legs around to sit up. He flexed his back and closed his eyes, hardening his mind against the scream of the cuts that lined his back. He looked at Kaspar with sadness in his smoky eyes.
“You know they won’t, Kaspar. Once the advertisements and handbills were plastered around the city, they wrote off this show. I am sure they have circled the wagons. They are too proud to take me back. I committed the greatest folly. I turned my back on my family. And now, I must suffer alone. I know I am already forbidden from trying to contact them.” His hand gently brushed the beads along his collarbone. “How Lorenzo was able to strengthen that binding in the magic that holds me here, I will never know.”
Kaspar gave him a sad smile as he picked up the discarded clothes and refuse used in the treatment of Ignace’s back. He had no words to speak that could bring any comfort. Both of them were trapped, held long after they were promised to be released. It was the way of the world in which they lived, the older man had decided long ago. He merely gave one long nod before slipping out the door.
Ignace stared at himself in the mirror long after Kaspar had left him. He frowned as he took stock of the wounded look that echoed deep within his eyes. He ran a hand through the graying blond-brown hair, which had been freshly trimmed before this tour. He sighed and let his shoulders slump as he released the posture he had been long holding.
It was only when he was alone in those rare moments that he allowed himself time to reflect on his downfall and let go of the bravado he carried. It was all for show and it was almost as exhausting as the magic he was forced to perform on the stage for Lorenzo Malatesta’s benefit.
He missed the days of yesteryear when he could be really carefree instead of acting as if he had not a care in the world. He missed the fellowship of his family. Though his father had abandoned him, he had his mother and her family that had once embraced him. He had friends that worked to keep him out of trouble. But that was a different epoch, one that he had thrown away as carelessly as he had thrown away his freedom.
Ignace mutely stared at the black and white beads that graced his neck and reached up to touch them, aware of the strong magic that bound them to him. He hated that they were there and longed to tear them from his neck. He could claw at them for hours and they would remain, their weight pressing against his magic like a chokehold. They would live there forever. Kaspar was correct. Freedom would never be achieved.
He angrily cast a spell at the mirror and a dark cloud covered it, obscuring him from view. As it swirled and floated, he sighed as he stretched his aching muscles. The skin on his back screamed at him still, reminding him of his latest failure.
There was a knock at the door. Before Ignace could even stand to answer, the automated key card lock clicked and the handle to the hotel room door turned.
Lorenzo had come to see him. He was dressed in his usual outfit, though he appeared casually relaxed without the tie and jacket. His crisp white shirt was unbuttoned at the neck and the salt and pepper hair that was normally slicked back and neatly groomed was tousled. He had a hint of a beard on his usually clean-shaven face. But still, he looked as practiced and as polished as ever. Ignace knew that was as much of an illusion as was the persona he was forced to enact.
Lorenzo shook his head as he surveyed the scene. Though Kaspar tried to be thorough and careful, there was still a bit of blood on the sheets, the tell-tale signs of Ignace’s struggle. The pathomotus was still shirtless, though he had snapped back into the rigidness of his bravado when he heard the door click. The insolent glare was back, though even Malatesta could see there was pain in the man’s face.
“Why must you defy me, Godding?” he asked coldly. “You should know by now resistance is futile.”
“You already know why, Lorenzo.”
The director stroked the pendant about his neck as he stared down at Ignace and scoffed.
“I had hoped by now that your spirit would see the folly of your ways. But you should know that I enjoy our little battles. They keep reminding me I have work to do in my own magic. I do so enjoy the challenges I face with you.”
Ignace stared up at him, saying naught.
Lorenzo laughed haughtily.
“You have permission to speak freely, since I can see you wish to.”
“Why have you brought us here?”
Lorenzo practically crowed with unabated joy as he walked across the room to the solitary armchair in the pathomotus’ room. He settled himself in, still laughing.
“You should know why.”
Ignace simply stared. He did know the answer, but he too enjoyed the little sparring he was able to do with his master. It reminded Lorenzo each time that he could not control all of Ignace’s magic like he could some in the entourage.
The director stretched gracefully and put his hands behind his head, crossing his ankles and taking his time before he answered.
“I wanted to remind you that you will never repay the debt you owe me. I own you. The interest alone will keep you chained to me forever.”
He sat up in the chair and stared intensely at Ignace, reaching up to touch the pendant again. He fingered it as his eyes remained on the man still seated on the bed.
“Coming back here was just a little reminder of that, just as it’s a reminder to your prominent family that I own one of them.” He chuckled again. “But then, you are quite aware of it. After all, your own downfall led you to this position. I have heard through my sources that even if you wished for rescue, it would not come. Your family has abandoned you, just as I knew they would. They would not dare break the magic your ancestor made.”
His eyes searched for any reaction from the pathomotus, but Ignace gave none. He simply remained seated, the persona firmly in place.
“Your friends have scattered too. I hear a few of them are now dead. You have been forgotten.”
There were still no chinks in the stoicism of the pathomotus.
Lorenzo stood, a twinge of disappointment flitting across his face before he smiled again.
“Good night and sweet dreams, Godding. Tomorrow will be a taxing day for you. It’s opening night here in Allium and I am sure that while you may see an old friend or two in the sea of faces in the audience, you won’t see anyone who will come to your aid. I know. I’ve looked at the ticket sales.”
He left as elegantly as he had arrived and Ignace heard him cast a spell on the door, locking him in until morning. Not that he was in any condition to go anywhere. His back screamed at him too much.
He would not sleep tonight, though he badly needed it. For tomorrow was the first of three taxing performances and he knew he had to be absolutely perfect. He was home after all and there were people counting on him to do what needed to be done.
Despite acting indifferent during Lorenzo’s taunting, he did long to see a familiar face in the crowd that was more than just an old friend. But he also knew his family would not be there. The magic that was at play, cast so long ago, had made that possible. And despite his power, he could not fight that off any more than he could break the chains that bound him. It was, after all, part of the folly of his ancestor.
Click here to read the next chapter – Theater
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction written by K. S. Wood, and thus is copyrighted 2023. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author. All rights reserved.If you enjoyed this chapter, please share it with others. Every other Saturday, there will be a new chapter posted for your reading pleasure. The entire story can be found on this page – The Magician.
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K. S. Wood Writes 
I so can’t wait for Lorenzo to get what he deserves! I can’t wait to see if a certain someone is in the audience!
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Gah, I realized I didn’t reply
You’ll just have to wait and see!!! 😉
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