Independence (The Magician – Chapter Sixteen)

This is the sixteenth chapter of the serialization novel I am working on, The Magician – < click here to read the other chapters if you missed them.

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Independence

It took some persuading, a bit of magic, and even some of her seemingly inexhaustible pocket money, but eventually Vanessa made it backstage. She was surprised at how easy it seemed to be, especially after she plied some of her magical skills.

An average-sized, average-looking man who had been identified as the manager of the theater group was pointed out to her amidst the hustle and bustle behind the scenes. he was dressed plainly in a collared shirt and dark pants. A thread of beads glinted in the lights about his neck. There seemed to be a hint of magic in the shimmer, one she was surprised she could even see.

That was curious to her.

“Hello,” she said, acting as giddy as the ditzy schoolgirls she loathed at her preparatory school.  It was the persona she had to adopt thanks to Thora. She thought quickly on her feet, her magic helping her in that regard.  “My name is Alice Rothschild and I just loved the show!” 

The manager of the theater shook his head.  It appeared he wanted to roll his eyes, but he smiled politely instead.  He looked at her curiously before answering.

“How may I help you, Miss Rothschild?” he asked.

She shyly held out her hand and smiled at him, wordlessly casting a small persuasion spell she had learned from Iago as she pressed a large bill into his hand.  

The Rankin side still used subterfuge from time to time to get what they wanted.

“I’d like to see Mr. Godding,” she replied.  “I am such a fan of his work and was wondering if I might have a private word with him.”

The spell seemed to work.  At least she hoped it did.  There was a glint in his eyes as he smiled at her. He then nodded.

“Right this way, Miss Rothschild.”

Ignace was seated at his dressing table, removing the makeup from his face with disposable towels when there was a rap.  It was the knock Kaspar usually did to indicate he was there and alone, a singular sign of resistance from one of his only friends.  He wondered what it could mean.

“Ignace, you have company,” Kaspar announced from outside the door.  

Ignace sighed.  It would be like Lorenzo to expect him to do another private showing tonight.  He merely wanted to rest, but that would be impossible.  The show had drained him immensely of his energy, especially since the lashes on his back still screamed at him.

He wiped off the last bit of makeup, hoping he didn’t have to apply it again.  He didn’t want to be polite, but he didn’t have the energy to fight anything Lorenzo forced him to do tonight.  Wearily, he rose from his seat and stepped towards the door.  With a grandiose sigh, he put his hand on the doorknob and forced a smile.  

He flung open the door to find a young woman standing on the threshold, beaming up at him.  She looked to be in her early twenties and was dressed as any upscale young woman would be.  There was something familiar about her face, like he had seen her before even though he had never laid eyes on her.  He was sure of that. He wondered why for a moment before looking up at his old friend.

Kaspar smiled at him and turned to leave.  There was a brief look in his eyes that told the pathomotus that this meeting was not planned by the director.  If Lorenzo did not know, then why was she here?

Despite some misgivings, Ignace let the girl into his room.  He quietly and quickly shut the door before addressing her.

“Who are you?” he asked, his eyes blinking at the intrusion.

She fairly gushed.

“My name is Alice Rothschild, Mr. Godding,” she said sweetly.  “I have wanted to meet you for a while now.  Your performance was absolutely amazing and I wanted to talk to you about the message in that last scene in particular.”

His heart began to race at that last sentence.  He knew just by looking at her that she was no Rothschild, despite using that alias.  Only members of his mother’s family would get the reference he meticulously wove into the black and white scene.  She had to have been sent by one of them.  

But the magic that bound him to his contract made it difficult to speak of it.  Curiously, an even older magic seemed to be woven in the magic that forced him to be silent.  He felt the stirrings of his family’s magic pushing through him, reminding him that while he could weave the message into his pictures, he could not speak of it openly.  He merely smiled at her, trying to act as carefree as he normally did when in any sort of private meeting.

“You have a gift,” she said gently.  “It was a beautiful scene, but it reminded me of an old story.  Do you know the story too?”

He merely stared at her.  His heart raced as he tried to remember why she looked so familiar to him.  But time and the magic that bound him had not been his friend.  Whose child was this and why was she here?

He blinked.

“Everyone knows the Tamberlane crest has a tree with falling leaves.  But not everyone knows the story of why they are falling,” she remarked.  “And not everyone knows what kind of tree it is.  But you do, don’t you?”

That was a question he could answer.  He smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“It’s an oak,” he said quietly.

She beamed. 

“You know of the story,” she replied.

Again, the magic kept him mute.  He simply stared at her again and shook his head ever so slightly, trying to press against the magics that kept him silent.  Someone in the family had to have sent her.  But who would care enough to fight the decree?

The movement caused the necklace to shift into view.  In the light from the bulbs that surrounded the mirror of the dressing table, Vanessa caught a glimmer of magic in the beads and it fascinated her like it did the one in the beads about the theater manager’s neck. She reached up and touched the strand, gently caressing it with her fingers.  Sure enough, there was a dark magic that seemed to repel at her touch.  

“I know the decree keeps us both from speaking of family,” she replied, fingering the chain as she lifted it ever so slightly.  “But there is something more at stake here for you.  This is what keeps you chained, isn’t it?”

He did not say a word, though he could feel her power pulling at the magic, making it weaker for him. That piqued his curiosity even more.

“The binding makes it you can’t even speak of it, doesn’t it?” she asked.

Again, Ignace just stared. He longed to open his mouth, but magic kept him mute.  He tried to tell her mentally and found he could not. 

Vanessa felt the magic in the binding, dark and powerful and almost overwhelming, but she knew that she could overcome it herself if she tried.  She closed her eyes and channeled her magic to her fingers, humming a song of joy in her head to do so.  With one powerful surge, she grasped the beads about his neck and yanked.

Suddenly there was a bright light and the room was flooded with a torrent of colors as Ignace’s body seemed to glow.  The waves of iridescence washed over Vanessa, causing her to groan in pain as the beads cascaded to the floor.  They scattered with never ending sounds as they hit the tile and bounced away.

She began to sway, almost crumpling to the ground.  But the man was faster than her fall, powered by some sort of magic that seemed stronger than her own. He grabbed at her, holding her tightly against him as the rainbow got brighter and brighter.  It swirled around them, causing them to disappear from sight.

With one final blast, the room was darkened as both pathomotus magicians simply vanished.

Click here to read the next chapter – Questions

 

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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.

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