Disappearing Act

by James Moloney

  Three weeks after the old man’s death, when his grandfather was again visiting for dinner, Matt announced at the table, ‘I want to be a magician, like Mattheus. I want to put on shows.’

  He had expected the startled looks that filled his parents’ faces, but not the tears that appeared in his grandfather’s eyes. ‘That’s a wonderful idea, Matty. What better way to honour his memory.’

  Mrs Cooper must have been feeling awkward because of the things she’d said about Mattheus before she knew the whole story. She made a series of phone calls during the days that followed and by the end of that week Matt was enrolled at the Sydney School of Magic, which held lessons for beginners on Saturday mornings.

  It felt right, somehow. Matt didn’t believe in omens or a sixth sense, yet thinking about the lessons brought him closer to something, just as he had felt when he first wrote the three words in Montilagan at Mattheus’s feet.

  On the first Saturday, the instructor, Mr Crank, introduced himself. His odd name seemed appropriate. He was tall and imposing, with eyebrows like two thick forests that went up and down as he looked over the new recruits. Most were older than Matt, and a few were adults in their twenties and thirties.

  ‘The first thing you need to get out of your heads is that magic schools are like the movies,’ Mr Crank said. ‘There’s no potions master here, there are no brooms to fly. We train you to be magicians, not wizards. If you think magic comes from the supernatural then you should head for the exit right now.’

  Matt thought of the inscription in Mattheus’s notebook: Only the heart knows magic is real. A person’s heart didn’t care whether things could be proved – wonderful things like imaginary worlds and the fun of being alive. They were feelings, that was all. It was okay to follow your heart now and again, Mattheus seemed to be saying; just don’t take it too seriously. Everything else in his notebook agreed with Mr Crank.

  As if he’d read Matt’s mind, Mr Crank seemed to look directly at him while he explained in a deep, melodious voice, ‘Magic is trickery and illusion and you must work hard if you hope to be any good at it.’ He let his stern gaze wander over the rest of the class, as though he didn’t think any of them could possibly be up to it. ‘I will show you the basics and how to put it all together into an act. Now then, let’s get started.’

  Mr Crank picked out a girl sitting next to Matt. ‘Sarah, would you bring me that case from the back of the room?’

  Matt had talked to Sarah before the lesson since she’d looked as nervous as he was. ‘Most magicians on stage seem to be men,’ she’d whispered. ‘I hope he doesn’t pick on me because of that.’

  Sarah hurried to fetch the old-fashioned suitcase Mr Crank was pointing to: the hard-shelled kind with shiny latches and no wheels. She put it down on a table beside Mr Crank, but as soon as she turned away the case sprang open.

  ‘Excuse me, the case has come open,’ Mr Crank said to Sarah. ‘You’d better close it,’ he added, sounding unimpressed.

  This guy acts like a bad-tempered bear, thought Matt. He wouldn’t stay long in the class if Mr Crank was a bully. Meanwhile, Sarah rushed to do as he said. As soon as she snapped the latches into place, Mr Crank flung his arms wide and cried, ‘Aha, just as I thought! An open and shut case!’

  Poor Sarah got a fright when Mr Clark gestured so suddenly. The rest of the class, adults and kids alike, sat in silence, all a bit stunned by what had happened.

  Only Matt laughed. ‘An open and shut case,’ he chuckled and immediately changed his opinion about the man.

  Mr Crank checked out his audience a second time, then his eyes zeroed in on Matt. ‘Seems like you’re the only one,’ he said and a wry smile passed between them. Only then did the others understand it had all been a joke and join in the laughter.

  ‘First points to you, Matthew,’ said Mr Crank, who seemed to know everyone’s name already. ‘The rest of you will catch on, I hope. This is all part of your first lesson. Magicians are entertainers. Humour is part of our act. The rest is careful preparation, which is why I’ve started with this trick. The suitcase didn’t come open all by itself. Look at this.’ Inviting them to gather round, he revealed a spring inside the case and a button on the outside that released it.

  ‘In the next few months, you will learn about many of the secret contraptions that no one in an audience ever sees. You will practise using them over and over and you will become experts at moving your hands in ways that no one else will notice. All of those skills were needed to make this trick work, even if it doesn’t seem like much of a magic trick at all. Remember, there is no magic, only clever magicians.’

  Matt began to look forward to Saturdays in the way he had when they meant a game of footy or long hours challenging himself in the surf with Hayden. What got him edgy with excitement now though was magic.

  ‘There are eight kinds of magic tricks,’ Mr Crank had announced grandly on that first morning and then he’d demonstrated each one of them.

  ‘First, appearances.’ And he’d pulled a rabbit out of a hat and given it to Sarah to mind. She’d loved that, and must surely have known by then that he wasn’t going to pick on her for being a girl.

  ‘Second, we have disappearances.’ He’d put the hat he’d just used into a box, tapped it with his wand and then displayed the empty box to his pupils.

  ‘Then there’s transformation, where this carrot –’ he’d placed it in an open-sided box and drawn a curtain across it – ‘becomes a potato.’ He’d pulled back the curtain to reveal the different vegetable.

  On went the list. Restoration was putting things back together that had been broken, like a glass or a watch smashed with a hammer. Teleportation was making something disappear from one side of the stage and reappear on the other. Liberation was getting free of a pair of handcuffs. Houdini, the great magician from long ago, had been an expert at that. Levitation was the most amazing of all, because Mr Crank made a handkerchief rise up from the table and dance around like a fruit bat. Finally there was prediction, which Matt already knew a bit about because that meant picking out the card that an audience member had chosen in secret. Hayden was still bamboozled by that one and Matt found himself pleased he hadn’t revealed how it was done.

  Matt learned more card tricks, how to make coins disappear, how to put marbles in his mouth and have them ‘magically’ travel down his arm into his palm. He learned to perform every one of the tricks Mr Crank used in his demonstration, even how to saw a body in half and put it back together again. He was soon Mr Crank’s star pupil.

  ‘Not many youngsters take to magic as quickly as you, Matt.’

  ‘It’s in my blood,’ he told Mr Crank, whose eyebrows shot upwards at the remark.

  ‘Oh, was your father a magician? I might know him. What was his stage name?’

  The students would soon choose their own stage names, something grand for performances. When Mr Crank put on his act at carnivals and children’s parties, he became Raymondo the Magnificent instead of plain old Ray Crank.

  Matt had come to like Mr Crank for his mischievous sense of humour and also for his patience as a teacher. But he also knew he shouldn’t have talked about magic in his blood when that blood came from Mattheus Coperneau. It didn’t matter that Mattheus was innocent; his name had shamed magicians the world over and it always would, unless his great-grandson found a way to prove it wasn’t his fault.

  ‘Oh, er, I didn’t mean that,’ he said. ‘I mean that … that … magic seems to come naturally to me.’

  Mr Crank frowned at this answer. ‘Nonsense. Magic is preparation and practice. Don’t get full of yourself just because you’re the best in the class.’

  Matt had once seen on television something about how famous rock stars used to sing into the top of broom handles when they were kids, pretending the long sticks were microphone stands. Or they would sing in the shower and perform in front of mirrors to see how they’d look on stage or in a music video. At the time, he’d thought they were posers an
d wondered why they’d admit to such embarrassing antics once they were famous.

  Now he found himself doing the same thing – not the singing and dancing about in front of the mirror (Matt sang like a hippopotamus), but the pretending, the dreaming, the practising for what he hoped would one day be his life. After Mattheus’s death, he’d told his family that he wanted to learn some magic, but three months into his lessons with Mr Crank, his ambition had grown. He wanted to be a stage magician, to enthral large audiences with his skills. He found himself performing tricks even when there was no one around until they became second nature to him.

  Matt went with this father to visit Grandad more often than he used to. Some kids greeted a grandparent with a hug; Matt would hold up a coin, make it disappear and then find it behind his grandfather’s ear. Then he’d give him a hug.

  ‘You’re becoming quite the magician. My poor father would have been proud of you, Matty, I’m sure,’ said Grandad. ‘I certainly am.’

  They talked a lot about Mattheus, even though most of it was guesswork.

  ‘I’d like to visit Montilagus one day and maybe find out more,’ Grandad told them.

  ‘Are you sure you can afford it, Dad?’ asked Matt’s father. ‘You’re living on the pension now.’

  ‘Oh, I have some money put away for special occasions. I don’t want to travel alone though.’

  Matt was getting better at judging the things a person said with the tone of their voice instead of words. He wondered if Grandad was hoping Matt’s father would say the whole family should go. His hint drew a different reaction from Mr Cooper though.

  ‘If the people in Montilagus knew you were the son of Mattheus Coperneau, they might not let you in,’ said Matt’s father, smiling gently, but with a serious edge to his voice as well.

  Grandad thought about this for a moment. ‘My passport shows the name Cooper. How would they know?’

  By the time this conversation took place, the newspaper clippings from the biscuit tin had been translated. Some were about the Mahling princes and the trouble they’d faced since the Royal Sceptre had gone missing. Others were about magic, but not the kind that Matt was learning. They told of an old and mysterious magic called alchemy. The articles claimed there were secret societies even today that continued the search for real magic.

  ‘Better not show these to Mr Crank,’ said Matt as he read one of the translations. ‘He’d grumble for a week about silly people who give proper magicians a bad name. He’s very sensitive about that.’

  Further into the same article, Matt sat up suddenly in dismay when he read that a prince of Montilagus had once ordered a serious study of alchemy.

  At home, he Googled the word to see what turned up. Just as he’d thought: alchemy was superstitious nonsense. One of its supposed secrets was a way to turn lead into gold and silver. Surprise, surprise! Alchemists were just another bunch of scam merchants who wanted to get rich. That didn’t sound like Mattheus Coperneau at all.

  7

  Alchemy and the Scientist

  Montilagus, 1889

  Joachim Tannislaus was a happy man as he walked towards the Palace. He had been born twenty-seven years earlier in the house he still lived in with his mother, since he was not yet married. This was despite the fact that his wild blond hair drew the eye of every girl in Montilagus. But Joachim was too busy for romance. After he had shown early promise at school, no one was surprised when he excelled at the university. Now, despite his youth, he was expected to become the new head of scientific studies when the professor retired next year. Some wondered if he would be another Galileo or Sir Isaac Newton. Joachim laughed at such suggestions because he was a modest young man. His dreams were not of fame and grand titles, but the good his work could do for ordinary men and women. It was an exciting time to be a scientist. Doctors were learning how to stop disease spreading from one person to another. Electricity had recently come to Montilagus, and there was even talk of a carriage that could push itself along using a motor instead of horses.

  Joachim had been summoned to the Palace by Prince Edvord, whose coronation had occurred only three months earlier, after the untimely death of his father. He was young, only twenty-three, and now that he was in charge, it was said he had plans to make the little principality one of the wealthiest and most influential places in Europe.

  Joachim gave his name at the gate and found himself ushered straight into a richly furnished chamber where the Prince was waiting. To show his modern thinking, Edvord had swapped the sashes and braid that earlier rulers had worn for a smart suit. Only one other person was present at the meeting, a grey-haired gentleman Joachim hadn’t laid eyes on before.

  ‘I would like you to meet Augustine Rey,’ said Prince Edvord as the two guests shook hands and exchanged smiles.

  ‘I’ll get right down to business,’ the Prince continued, while Joachim was trying to guess who Augustine Rey might be. He certainly wasn’t a famous actor or a general, for he was stoop-shouldered and seemed rather a nervous type. None the wiser, Joachim gave his attention to the Prince.

  ‘I have invited Augustine to Montilagus to lead an important study,’ Edvord said.

  ‘A scientific study?’ Joachim asked, since that was what interested him. But if Mr Rey was a scientist worthy enough for the Prince’s plans, why hadn’t Joachim heard his name before?

  ‘Yes, in a way,’ said the Prince, and immediately Joachim felt the first suspicions about where this meeting might take him.

  ‘Augustine is the world’s leading expert in alchemy,’ the Prince continued. ‘I have brought him to Montilagus to find out once and for all whether the goals of alchemy can be achieved.’

  ‘But, Your Highness,’ said Joachim, ‘you do not need a study to answer that question. As a scientist, I can assure you they are all foolish dreams and nothing more.’

  ‘As a scientist, I expect you to keep an open mind,’ snapped Prince Edvord. ‘That’s why I’ve summoned you to the Palace, Doctor Tannislaus. You are to join your scientific mind to Augustine’s work. This will be the first time that modern science has been applied to the age-old writings of the alchemists. I have high hopes for the combination.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Your Highness, I don’t want any part of this work. I have more important things waiting for me at the university and I don’t want to delay –’

  ‘You have no more important work than what I set you to do, Joachim,’ said the Prince in a hard voice. ‘The secrets you two reveal might prove more valuable than anything discovered in a university. It is vital that your work remains secret also. For that reason, I have prepared special rooms for you inside the Palace, both for working and for sleeping. Already, your laboratory at the university is being packed up and your personal possessions too. They will arrive this afternoon and you will remain here, giving your attention to this alone.’

  It is a terrible thing to be forced into work you do not believe in. For Joachim Tannislaus, even worse was waiting for him once his equipment was assembled and Augustine Rey opened the first of his dusty books.

  ‘Prince Edvord is quite clear about where he wants us to begin,’ said Augustine. ‘Since the great days of Rome two thousand years ago, alchemists have searched for the way to turn ordinary metals into gold. If we can be the first to find it, then Montilagus will become rich and your Prince will be one of the most powerful men in Europe.’

  ‘But scientists like me already know that metals are made up of atoms,’ Joachim told Augustine. ‘We know the atoms in a lump of iron are arranged one way and the atoms in a lump of gold are arranged in a different way. Iron cannot turn into gold unless you change the inside of every single atom. It’s impossible.’

  ‘Don’t be so certain. When everything the ancients discovered separately is pieced together, we will find the way,’ said Augustine with a smug smile. He began to read and wouldn’t listen to anything Joachim said.

  By the end of the first week, the two men were arguing bitterly. Augustine
had persuaded the Prince to spend vast amounts of money to buy rare books written centuries before. Some had even been stolen from museums by thieves who then smuggled them into Montilagus, for a fat fee, of course.

  At night, when he could not sleep, Joachim sometimes heard voices in Augustine’s room. When he asked who had come to visit at such an hour, the old man winked and said, ‘Perhaps I was speaking to the dead souls who wrote these books.’

  Rubbish! The next time Joachim heard the voices, he kept watch until three men, all very much alive, left Augustine’s room.

  ‘Who are you?’ he called, challenging them, but they brushed by without answering. As they passed, he saw the glint of brass around the neck of one man. It was shaped like a blazing sun with a quarter moon at its centre. ‘Alchemists,’ he whispered.

  So the rumours were true. Even here in Montilagus there were still magicians of the old school determined to explore the dark arts of sorcery. Augustine was more than a scholar of ancient books; he was an alchemist himself.

  The next morning Joachim went again to the Prince. ‘Please, Your Highness, I am not the man to study magic and superstition. Let me return to the university where we believe only in the things we can prove.’

  It did him no good, but afterwards, in his room where he had gone to nurse his despair, there came a knock at the door. He opened it to find a face he knew from the university, a young and very pretty face.

  ‘Princess Agneta,’ he said with a bow.

  The people of Montilagus were a cautious lot who took time to accept changes, especially about how men and women should behave. They had been shocked when the Princess persuaded her parents to let her enrol at the university. At that time, women were rarely seen at any university in Europe. Joachim Tannislaus had welcomed the change as a sign of the future, which made it all the more astounding that Agneta’s brother, Prince Edvord, had been taken in by an ancient con like alchemy.

  ‘I know why you are here,’ said Agneta as she lingered uncertainly in Joachim’s doorway. ‘And I heard your appeal to the Prince. I’m sorry, Doctor Tannislaus. Edvord is letting his ambition get the better of his good sense and that horrible man, Augustine Rey, is tricking him into spending thousands. The money all seems to go to Rey’s friends too, which makes me even more suspicious. I’m afraid for Edvord, for all of us. Even if you succeed in turning base metal to gold, how long would it be before some powerful country sent its army to steal the secrets you uncovered. The peace of centuries would be shattered.’