Postlude (The Magician – The Final Chapter)

This is the twentieth-fifth and FINAL chapter of the serialization novel I was working on, The Magician – < click here to read the other chapters if you missed them or have no idea what this story is about.

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Postlude

The gilded opera house was once again filled with spectators, buzzing with excitement and anticipation. The curtain rose for the final act and the audience applauded and cheered.  But all that was onstage was a giant white background while an orchestra paused in the pit.  There was some audible confusion as everyone waited.

Slowly and with the aid of a cane, the magician stepped from the wings and onto the stage to rancorous applause.  As the spotlight shone on him, he made his way to center, his gait still slightly uneasy despite months of therapy.  But he had finally regained enough strength to give back something which had been taken from him.

He was dressed in the finest linen shirt, the top button unbuttoned and a chain of silver glinting in the stage lights.  His hair had been slicked back, the grays more evident at the temples, a sign of his struggle.  His pants were tailored and black.  His shoes were black leather loafers, chosen for comfort even though they were also stylish.

One of the stagehands scurried out with a stool and set it down on a marked spot on the center stage as Ignace arrived at it.  The stagehand smiled at the magician and took the man’s cane.  Ignace whispered a thank you and smiled as he positioned himself, leaning against the stool instead of sitting upon it. He stared out at the crowd, his eyes blinking at the stage lights that illuminated him as he waited for the music to begin.  He closed his eyes as the first strands of the flute played in the pit beneath him.

The scene started sadly, with just a single black and white portrait of a broken tree, its leaves falling as the flute gave its haunting melody.  One by one the leaves fell to the floor until the final one fell with a long, sorrowful note.

Immediately, the entire orchestra began to add to the melody, creating an array of tunes that pleased the ears of every onlooker as colors began to ebb and flow from Ignace’s hands once more. The tree gave way to a veritable forest lush with vegetation.  Where there had been only one solitary oak was now several strong, vibrant trees that made up a formidable sight.

Soon there were scenes flying around the stage as Ignace plied his magic, giving into the music as his hands danced out color after color.  The sheer majesty of the scenes he painted dazzled the eyes of those who watched.  Everyone was in amazement as they watched the plateau.

But Vanessa watched her cousin from the eaves, enthralled by the very way he moved.  His eyes remained closed, as he practically felt every note of the orchestra and poured every bit of his soul into the magic he was creating.  The gamut of emotions he exuded were evident on his face.  She had never witnessed anything like it, despite sharing this gift herself.  She smiled as she watched the scene unfold.  Her cousin had found himself again.

Evelyn put her arm around her daughter as she too watched from the wings.  Like Vanessa, she enjoyed the magic and the pictures Ignace had painted on the screen.  But she enjoyed watching the way her cousin performed more.

It had been a trying year of recovery and reconciliation, but it had been worth it.

Even though Ignace had regained the use of both his legs, he still needed a great deal of physical therapy.  He also needed to retrain some of his magic and deal with the waves of emotions that had flooded him as he reconciled with the rest of the family.  While Evelyn and the rest of the Tamberlanes helped him rebuild relationships and the hired medical team helped him to regain his legs again, Vanessa worked with him on his magic.  Both needed to learn to channel their magic for good uses, so that neither would fall to Nestor’s folly again.

Vanessa had finished her thesis, using the information she learned as she helped work to undo Vittorio’s magic in the community and beyond.  She successfully defended it as well, answering the questions posed to her with much thought and practiced ease.  Within the next week, she would walk across the stage to accept her diploma.  She accepted a position working in the Museum of Magical History and would be working under the tutelage of Nathaniel Jenkins in the mysteries department.

As for Vittorio, he had been committed to a mental hospital for the magically insane, his mind shattered by the magic he encountered when he tried to kidnap the two in the park.

Ignace had not wanted to perform again, hoping to put that behind him.  But when Kaspar had asked him to have a meeting to discuss certain arrangements, he found himself hard pressed to say no.  He owed his old friend that, at the very least.

He was told to choose the location, so he decided upon a small diner that was situated not far from the high-rise where he was living for the time being.  As he slipped onto the red vinyl bench seat and waited for Kaspar to arrive, he took in the ambiance of the place.

The seat in front of him was patched in places, the frayed duct tape worn.  A few crumbs had been missed by the busboy’s hurried cleaning of the table, but he didn’t mind.  The floor beneath his feet was slightly sticky, causing the loafers he wore to squelch with every step.  The lighting was in need of updating, as was the dingy paint job on the walls.  Ignace noted a newly cured patch of drywall near the bathroom wall and wondered why the repair had to be done in the first place.  

A waitress stepped up to the table, placing a coffee cup and saucer down.  She was one of the grizzled veterans of the place, one that Ignace had come to know over the past few months of coming here when he needed a meal but did not feel like cooking or imposing on the family.  Her name was Maud.

She filled his coffee mug up almost to the brim, leaving him a little pitcher of the half cream and half milk she knew he liked.

“The usual, sweetheart?” she asked.

He nodded.  “But can you wait on putting it in, Maud?  I am meeting someone here today.”

She winked at him, tucking a silver lock behind her ear.

“Sure thing, darlin’,” she said with a smile.

Kaspar entered a few minutes later as Ignace was enjoying a sip of the coffee and watching the traffic buzz by on the busy streets of Allium outside.  The former manager of Malatesta’s Traveling Show looked much more visibly relaxed these days, but he also took in the ramshackle look of the place with a critical eye.

“Fancy meeting you in a place like this, Godding!” he exclaimed as he took off his jacket and stuffed it into the seat before sitting.

“I like the place,” Ignace said with a carefree smile.  “It’s definitely not a setting Lorenzo would have found himself in.”

Kaspar laughed as Maud bustled over to put a cup and saucer down as well as a menu.  They made small talk for a bit, tucking into their food as they caught up on how each of them were faring post-captivity.

After the dishes were cleared away, Ignace stared at Kaspar, his eyes showing no hint of emotion as he spoke.

“What was so important you needed to speak to me?” he asked.

Kaspar took a sip of his coffee and rubbed one thumb along the edge of the mug.

“You know the funds Lorenzo still had in his estate have been seized and are being used to help compensate his victims.”

“I am well aware,” Ignace replied.  “Donata Birdwhistle was one of the lawyers who helped set that in motion.”

“The funds are running out.  And the theaters that the show didn’t perform in on the final tour are calling in claims that are also being taken from the funds.  So they are dwindling faster than we have been anticipating.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

Kaspar took a deep breath.  

“Some of us were hoping we could placate some of these theater houses by offering up a version of the show to complete the new country tour that Lorenzo had promised.  About half of the performers are on board with this.  Some are ecstatic to do this even, since it will be a way to showcase the acts they have always loved rather than the ones we were forced to perform. But….”

He trailed off.  He glanced at Ignace and then at his cup, taking a deep breath.

“You need the star act,” Ignace replied, finishing the sentence.

Kaspar nodded.  

“We plan on this being the ‘Farewell Tour’ for the company.  Some theaters are very interested in letting us do this, even offering to help find accommodations willing to donate to the cause to help the victims.  But most of them want to know if the most famous act in the show is willing to continue on with the tour.”

Ignace leaned forward and put both elbows on the table so he could rest his chin on his hands.  The emotions he could feel now had left their toll, just as the bullet that was still lodged inside his body had made its own mark on him.  But he had the others to think of.  They were once just as indebted to Lorenzo Malatesta as he was.  They had everything taken from them as well, and they didn’t have the family to fall back on like he had.

And he did miss performing a little bit.

He leaned back and sighed.

“I want to see the projected tour schedule and have the family lawyers take a look at the paperwork.  I’m not saying yes or no yet.  It’s a maybe.”

Kaspar nodded and smiled.  

“I am hoping there will come some good from this,” he replied, grabbing his coat.  He reached into the back pocket of the black jeans he wore to pull his wallet out but was waived off by Ignace.  

“So do I,” Ignace replied, dropping a couple of bills on the table.  He added an extra one for Maud and gingerly slid his feet around, using the back of the booth and the table to stand.  

Kaspar had retrieved his cane for him and looked him up and down, his eyes showing a hint of condolence for Ignace’s condition.

Ignace thumped him on the shoulder.

“I am recovering well, old friend,” he replied.  He held up the cane.  “Hopefully, one day in the future, I won’t need this.  But my magic is sound and my freedom is well deserved.”

The paperwork was in order and the farewell tour was a success. The company decided to make Allium their final stop on the tour, adding a second night because of the popularity of the hometown final act.  Tickets sold out almost as soon as they were announced, though for the second night, most of the front section was reserved for the families of the company.  Ignace had made sure of that.

Just as he made sure to include one final performance as his postlude.

As the orchestra’s final strands rang out from the pit and the last colors dwindled on the screen, the applause was deafening.  Ignace stood and bowed his head.  Though the act had tired him to near exhaustion, he remained standing and spoke aloud as soon as he could.  

“This is a show of reconciliation, of hope, and of redemption. I myself could not have found any of those without the members of my family who have come together to help me.  One particular person I would like to acknowledge is my young cousin, Vanessa Rankin.”

He dramatically gestured to the wings, looking at her with a wide smile as a second spotlight appeared at the edge of the curtain.  The round of applause was once again deafening.  While they had rehearsed this encore, Vanessa suddenly was hesitant to step out of the wings into the spotlight.  

She shook her head but felt a nudge from her mother.

“Go,” Evelyn chided loudly in her ear.  “Don’t make them wait!”

Vanessa stepped out onto the stage, the flowing skirt of her ball gown rustling behind her as she made her way to her cousin.  The stage lights dazzled her and the applause from the unseen audience made her apprehensive.  But when Ignace patted her back as soon as she was within reach, he cast a spell on her as he whispered.

“You’ll do fine,” was the message in the spell.

She bowed her head as she curtseyed and then stood, staring at him with a smile as Ignace turned back to the audience.  She tried to calm the nerves within her as she waited for her cousin to introduce her.

“If you’ve been following the stories that have been prominently featured, Vanessa here also holds the same wondrous magic that was once held by Nestor himself.  And while she has agreed to perform with me in this encore tonight, this will be her only performance.  She is destined for better things than the sorry life of a performer and for that I am eternally grateful.”

He smiled at her and nodded, taking his seat on the stool once more.

The two of them waited nervously as the first chords of the music played, a new song that was composed especially for them.  As Vanessa silently stood by him, Ignace first gently and easily painted a simple picturesque tableau onto the screen.  It was a scene of the old country, pastoral and beautiful despite the rustic nature as violins and a piano took the melody.  

Then as the tempo picked up and horns were added to the mix, he cast a spell that rent the entire work into two.  Working fluidly, he cast his magic and darkness overtook the picture, showing destruction and chaos and folly.  Soon, only the black and white picture of the tree Ignace was once known for channeling at the end of his performances remained.

As the color disappeared and the tree was the only thing on the screen, chimes played amidst the strings and horns. At the third sound of chimes, Vanessa lifted her hands and closed her eyes as the leaves fell.  After the fourth set of chimes, there was a momentary silence in the music that indicated that everything was about to change.

With a giant burst of color as every single instrument in the pit took to playing, Vanessa’s magic exploded onto the screen, brighter than anything her cousin had just done in this encore.  Eyes closed tight as she gave in to the music, she threw color upon color into the air, splashing the background as Ignace continued to channel the story of the tree cracking in the foreground, the leaves falling one by one from the broken limbs. 

Vanessa’s magic moved into the foreground as the tempo changed again.  As she closed her eyes, her entire body swayed to the music as the pictures she painted almost seemed to be calling Ignace’s magic out of dormancy once more.  Not only did she dance, but the magic she exuded fairly danced as well.

But yet, Ignace continued to channel the sadness of Nestor’s folly.  The tree lost all of its leaves and began to crumble into the earth, even as the colors behind it were filled with joy and happiness.  The story Ignace was telling was of a man ready to give up.  

But Vanessa was telling a different story.  She was telling a story of love and reconciliation, one that was planted by the tears of a woman who had lost her son.  She was telling the story of a rebirth of a family, a bond that was greater than the magic that tried to suppress it.  Though all of her images were abstract, the feelings they evoked were there.  The two stories seemed to clash with one another, fighting against each other for what seemed like an eternity.

There were the chimes again.  Four times they sounded, and Vanessa had by this point painted a giant shadow figure in the midst of her colors, beckoning someone unseen to come. Each time the chimes rang, the dark figure moved fingers on a large hand, almost taunting someone else to enter the scene.  On the fourth set, the mood was set.

As the tempo picked up once more, Ignace once again added color to his pictures.  Creating a shadowy figure of his own amidst a powerful blast of prismatic color, the two figures faced off as the cousins worked in tandem to showcase the great toll of emotional magic that they both had to endure.   

Vanessa’s movements were frenetic compared to the calm, fluid grace Ignace seemed to exude, but the audience in the Opera Hall in Allium were wowed by a performance that was one of a kind.  As the two shadowy figures fought, throwing magic at each other in an array of colors, the battle became more and more dazzling as the shadowy figures continued their onslaught and then fell to the ground, their bodies spent.

But then the scene evolved one final time.  The two figures spun around and around, embracing in a tight hug as the colors splashed around them.  As the music continued to play, getting more frenzied and crescendoing at a dizzying speed, Ignace took control of the magic that created the figures, changing them into a giant oak tree that was strong and full of foliage, growing larger and larger on the screen.  Soon, a tableau of Allium took form behind it, illuminated with bold and bright colors as Vanessa continued to dance and sway and throw out brilliant colors that lit up the sky as fireworks and magical swirls, the smile on her face becoming bigger as she let loose the excitement within her.  Though exhaustion was evident on his face, Ignace continued to channel, the joy in his heart showing clearly in every inch of the city he created. 

In a flurry of notes and a flash of color, the music suddenly ended as a blast of color from both cousins emitted over the crowd.  After a few moments of stunned silence, the entire theater jumped to their feet with rancorous applause as Vanessa remained where she stood, her heart pounding and her hands raised to the sky.  She looked over to Ignace, who smiled back at her.  His shoulders were slumped from fatigue, but his face was also aglow with the same excited joy and love she felt.

Throwing colors everywhere since she was unable to control her emotions, Vanessa threw her arms around her cousin, hugging him tightly and supporting him as the applause continued.  As they blinked, trying to peer through the blinding stage lights, they both knew that the loudest cheers came from the rest of their extended family.

As they both stood and bowed, Vanessa’s arm about Ignace to help support him, they smiled broadly.  They had overcome Nestor’s folly and the Tamberlane Decree.  They had overcome the magic that tried to force the family apart.  And they had helped to build a stronger bond that would never be broken.

They were, after all, the magicians.

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Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction written by K. S. Wood, and thus is copyrighted 2024. 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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