Disappearing Act

by James Moloney

‘It was between the stage and the front row of seats, but it’s not the same stage,’ said Catine. She turned to Helvar, who had trailed them

  Matt could feel hope coming alive inside him again now that they were in the Great Hall. He tried to imagine how the final trick in Mattheus’s act would have taken place. He must have come down from the stage, then … He began to walk through the act, using what he’d learned as a magician to guess his great-grandfather’s movements.

  Catine saw immediately what he was doing. ‘Would he have gone back onto the stage perhaps?’

  Matt pretended to hold his magician’s cape out in front of him, as Mattheus must have done. He even swung his arms up and down as though he was shaking it out in a dramatic fashion.

  ‘I wish Mattheus had written the trick down in there,’ he said nodding towards the notebook, which he’d put on the stage with the biscuit tin.

  ‘Why not do a re-enactment?’

  This suggestion didn’t come from Catine, but from Helvar, who had ghosted up to Matt’s shoulder without him noticing.

  ‘But I don’t know how he did it. It’s not in the book,’ Matt said again.

  Helvar peered at the diagrams Mattheus had drawn. ‘Not the details of that trick maybe, but by the look of it there are all sorts of ideas and contraptions in here. Can you pick out anything that might have been part of the illusion? That way, you might get some clue you haven’t thought of before.’

  Not just a mock re-enactment with imaginary props but a real go … The more Matt thought about it, the more he saw the sense. After all, the only person to have tried the trick as Mattheus had performed it was Walter Borrodi and he was jealous of Mattheus. Perhaps he had deliberately failed as a kind of revenge.

  The three of them sat on the sofa against the wall, Matt in the middle with the notebook on his lap, the Princess on his right and her tutor on the left.

  ‘We know the sceptre was on a cushion,’ said Catine, and with a shift of her hips and a tug she pulled out the one she’d been leaning against. ‘This will do as a replacement. It sat on a small table. I’ll get a servant to find one for us.’

  Typical princess, thought Matt with a grin, used to ordering people about. The grin widened when he remembered the way his grandfather had teased him about making Catine part of the family. He could get used to being a prince.

  He was aware of their thighs touching on the sofa, and the smell of her so close made him blush. He didn’t think it was perfume, more her own scent – the smell of her long shimmering hair and the warmth of her body. He avoided more blushes by exploring the notebook. One diagram stood out and he pointed to it.

  ‘This could have been how Mattheus got the sceptre off the cushion to begin with.’

  The others looked down at the sketch of a long cape, with a more detailed diagram below it showing a special compartment in the lining of the cape.

  ‘I don’t suppose you have a cape like that back in your suitcase?’ said Catine. She was joking, of course. When Matt shook his head, she said, ‘Then we’ll have to make one.’

  ‘That’ll take days, maybe weeks,’ said Matt. ‘And I can’t sew a stitch. I don’t suppose that’s something a princess has to do much either,’ he added, hoping he didn’t sound rude.

  ‘No, I never learned, but I don’t have to, not when we have our own dressmakers. Come on,’ she said.

  Once again, Matt found himself following the leader down three flights of stairs, just the two of them now since Helvar stayed behind in the Great Hall. When they entered a large room where two women were hard at work on sewing machines Catine took the notebook from Matt’s hands and explained to the dressmakers what she wanted. The women didn’t blink. In fact, they seemed to enjoy the challenge of making a magician’s cape and took particular notice of the secret compartment. Neither spoke any English, but the notebook was written in Montilagan, and anything they were unsure about Matt explained to Catine, who translated almost instantly. Everything they needed was right there in the many cupboards – the flowing black material, blue satin lining and cotton thread to match. In an hour, the cape was ready.

  ‘I’ll borrow this too, to use as a tablecloth,’ said Catine, holding up a length of velvet.

  A quick-fire exchange of Montilagan brought nods from the seamstresses, who were clearly intrigued by what the Princess was up to.

  ‘They asked you why we need the cape, didn’t they?’ Matt said.

  ‘Yes, but I couldn’t tell them. Magic is still forbidden, remember,’ said Catine as they returned to the Great Hall.

  While Matt experimented with his new cape, the Princess and Helvar draped the velvet over the table a servant had carried in from a room next door. Helvar wasn’t acting like a tutor any more; now he was part of the experiment. As if to prove it, he excused himself and returned minutes later with something Matt couldn’t identify at first.

  ‘I thought this might come in handy,’ Helvar said, holding up a thick cylinder of wood the length of a school ruler.

  ‘What on earth is that?’ asked Catine.

  ‘A rolling pin, Your Highness,’ he replied, as courteous as ever. ‘It is used to roll out dough in the kitchen.’

  ‘What use is it to us? We’re not cooking anything.’

  Matt had already guessed. ‘It’s the Royal Sceptre.’

  Catine’s eyes lit up. ‘Very clever,’ she said, fetching the cushion from the sofa. Once the rolling pin was laid in place on the table, she turned to Matt and said, ‘Well, it’s up to you now.’

  Matt had been practising with the cape. It was vital he positioned it perfectly over the table and then snatched it away – not just for dramatic effect, but so that the rolling pin would catch in the secret compartment. Nerves began to flutter in his stomach. He would be on show as a magician and there was no Hayden to work as his assistant.

  He was about to begin when Catine clapped her hands and made shooing motions towards a door, as though she was chasing off pigeons. Through the glass, Matt could see the two dressmakers. Instead of scooting off, one dared to open the door and spoke to the Princess in a tone that mixed respect with pleading.

  ‘They’ve never seen magic before and want to watch,’ Catine explained.

  It didn’t seem right to send them away when they’d worked so hard on the cape. Matt nodded at the Princess, who sighed and waved the two women inside. And if this wasn’t enough, an apprentice chef arrived too, curious why the Princess’s bodyguard needed a rolling pin.

  ‘It’s best they stay in here,’ Catine whispered to Matt. ‘Gossip flies around the Palace faster than the wind and we don’t want my father to hear about this. If we get caught, they’ll probably shoot you and send me to my room for a week. I couldn’t bear to be stuck in there for that long.’

  ‘Very funny,’ said Matt, who was already quivering like a jelly.

  The little audience of the two dressmakers, the wide-eyed apprentice chef, Helvar and, most of all, the Princess stood waiting. The Great Hall might not be as full of bodies, but it certainly held the same tension Matt had felt in the auditorium while he waited to perform in the Young Houdinis.

  Steady, he told his hands. He wasn’t so sure this was a good idea after all, but it was too late to go back now.

  15

  Distraction and Disgrace

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Matt began, just as he would for a proper show, ‘before you on this cushion you see the Royal Sceptre of Montilagus.’ He swept his hand gracefully over the rolling pin. One of the dressmakers giggled. ‘Marvel now at how I make it disappear before your very eyes.’

  As he spoke, Matt flicked the cape into the air and let it settle over the table with the satin lining downwards. He gave them a moment to see the outline of the rolling pin among the black folds, then, with a powerful jerk, wrenched the cape away. There was nothing on the cushion.

  The audience gasped, all except Helvar.

  Matt twirled the cape around himself with one hand, letting the bright blue o
f the satin attract their eyes, then took control of it again, flicked it into the air and let it settle back over the cushion. He lifted his left hand from the cape and of course their eyes followed, as they were supposed to. It was all part of the trick, meant to draw their eyes away so they wouldn’t see what his other hand was doing. Oldest trick in the book. When he was ready, he swept away the cape and there was the rolling pin on the cushion once again.

  The five-member audience broke into applause and immediately began to argue in Montilagan, with both dressmakers and the apprentice all speaking at once.

  ‘What are they saying?’ Matt asked Catine.

  ‘They’re trying to work out how you did the trick.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘They think the rolling pin was in your cape.’

  At any other time, Matt would have smiled a teasing smile and played them like fish: maybe they were right, maybe not. The last thing he would have done was tell them the truth. But today was different, and it was hardly much of a secret when the dressmakers had created the compartment in the blue lining with their own hands. They had even attached the drawstrings that helped Matt release the rolling pin once it was back on the cushion.

  ‘They’re right,’ he said.

  ‘I thought so too,’ said Catine. ‘But your great-grandfather’s cape was ripped to pieces in the search after he was arrested. The sceptre wasn’t in it.’

  ‘Yeah, and as well as that, a guard was asked to check the cape during the act,’ added Matt.

  ‘Did Mattheus slip the sceptre out of the secret compartment and into his clothes?’ Catine suggested.

  ‘No. The same guard patted him down during the act, and it’s not like the sceptre’s small enough to fit in a pocket,’ Matt said, picking up the rolling pin and handing it to her to make his point.

  ‘Mattheus must have used some other hiding place,’ said Helvar, who had been following every word carefully.

  They glanced around them at the cushion, the velvet cloth, the table beneath it and the floor underneath that.

  ‘Everything was torn apart, even the floor,’ said Catine. ‘It can’t have been in any of these.’

  Helvar was staring over Matt’s shoulder.

  Matt turned and immediately saw the stage. ‘Ah, you’re thinking what I’m thinking,’ he said. ‘Mattheus must have moved around. It’s part of the illusion, you see. Ask an audience whether a magician stood still all through his act and they’ll say yes, because they only remember what he wants them to remember. In fact, he might have gone to the back, the front, the sides of the stage, and while he was there …’ Matt climbed the steps onto the stage.

  ‘But the sceptre can’t be hidden up there. It’s not the same stage,’ called Catine as she laid the rolling pin back on the cushion.

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ Matt said. ‘We’re not looking for the sceptre just yet, we’re looking for the way Mattheus performed the trick. Once we know that, we’ll have a better idea of how it could have disappeared for real. Everything is planned, you see, even if it doesn’t seem that way while you’re watching. Mattheus knew the guard was going to search him and the cape too, so he knew he couldn’t hide it so close.’

  Matt turned a full circle, taking in every corner of the stage. ‘How would I do it?’ he whispered. Illusion, trickery, sleight of hand. He thought of everything Mr Crank had taught him. ‘Only when all the possible explanations don’t make sense will people believe the impossible,’ he said loud enough for Catine to hear. ‘Mattheus wanted the audience to believe he had made the sceptre dissolve into thin air.’

  ‘Helvar, could you find another table and bring it here, onto the stage?’ Matt asked, with none of the commanding tone Catine was so good at. As a prince, he would have to work on that. ‘Oh, and if you could find some flowers, that would be just perfect.’

  Helvar left the hall.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Catine asked.

  ‘I’m thinking I need to create a distraction. Could we get a packet of flour from the kitchen?’

  Catine looked surprised, but she called something in Montilagan and the young chef hurried out of the hall. Helvar was back soon after, with a vase of flowers in each hand. Behind him came two more servants, carrying a table between them.

  Matt showed them where to set it down, close to one side of the stage, and then arranged the vases on top. He was checking their position from different angles when the bag of flour arrived.

  ‘Nearly ready,’ he called. He had a small job to do first and searched his pockets for something to use. He settled on a couple of clean tissues. ‘Okay, let’s do it,’ he whispered to himself, then in a booming voice he once again cried, ‘Ladies and gentlemen.’

  The two table-carriers had joined the audience, plus a girl in an apron who seemed eager to see what her flour was going to be used for. Matt locked them all into his gaze as he twirled the cape around himself, enjoying the way the blue satin stood out. He flicked the cape over so the lining was underneath and, as he had done before, let it drape itself over the rolling pin on its cushion. It looked so easy, so random, and yet he had been careful to make it fall in just the right way and in just the right place. As an added touch, he passed one hand over the cape and made a show of concentrating deeply. Then he jerked the cape away. As before, there was nothing on the cushion but the imprint of where the rolling pin had been.

  This time, Matt kept the cape moving, making their eyes follow the flashes of blue amid the black. He was on the move too – up the stairs onto the stage, the cape still flowing and flapping, rising and falling. They were watching him, but were they aware of where he roamed? That was the art of illusion: making them see what he wanted them to see, and leaving them blind to the rest.

  One hand dipped into his pocket and moments later a white cloud burst across the stage. His enlarged audience jumped at the shock. As for Matt – he was already on his way down the steps. By the time their eyes returned to him, he was standing beside the velvet-covered table, still as a statue and with the cape draped dramatically around himself.

  When he knew he had their absolute attention, he stretched one arm out gracefully towards the empty cushion, inviting them to guess where the rolling pin had gone.

  ‘It’s in the cape still,’ said the Princess.

  He untangled the cape from around himself and approached the dressmakers. They didn’t need words to know he was asking them to search it. They felt all over the material they had sewn themselves, then shook their heads in wonder.

  ‘It’s hidden in your clothes,’ said Helvar.

  Matt held his arms wide while the apprentice chef patted him down. He turned to the others and shook his head.

  ‘It’s on the stage somewhere,’ said Catine.

  Matt bowed to show she was right. This wasn’t a magic show to entertain the audience. This was an experiment in search of clues. ‘Did you see me hide it?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Helvar?’ said Matt, looking to where the tutor had been standing a few moments before, but he’d moved away into the wide corridor to make sure they were not disturbed.

  Catine had a new idea. ‘You hid it when you made that white cloud.’

  ‘Out of flour and nothing more,’ said Matt with a wink. That had been an inspiration, he had to admit – a handful of flour tied into a tissue that burst open when he tossed it against the nearest chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

  It was time to complete the act so they could discuss what it had taught them. Helvar was back inside the hall now. Matt’s audience watched expectantly. Taking the cape from the dressmakers, he returned to the space between the empty cushion and the stage to show he was again the magician. The cape began to whirl and twirl, its blue satin shimmering. He climbed the steps onto the stage and used the colour to mask his movements. They knew the white cloud he was about to create was simply flour, but it wouldn’t stop them from watching it fall like the finest snow and that was all the distraction he need
ed. When the second tissue full of flour exploded, he as beside the table with its vases and flowers placed just where he wanted them. The cape flicked across the table’s surface. No one saw. No one would recall where he was when the flour showered down through the air.

  Down the steps he went, to the cushion, which still showed a depression where the rolling pin had lain only minutes before. The cape flipped high then floated down to cover it. He would wait for it to settle and pretend to concentrate his great powers, maybe even utter the classic word, abracadabra, at the same time tugging the strings in a movement no one would see because their eyes would be on his other hand, deliberately raised in the air to distract them.

  It was at that delicious moment, with the trick so nearly complete, that a door opened and in strode a man Matt recognised instantly from Frau Grossen’s television. It was Prince Eisenne.

  He spoke quickly in Montilagan, but Matt didn’t need a translation to know he wasn’t very pleased.

  ‘In English, Papa,’ said Catine. ‘My friend is a foreigner.’ This only deepened the frown on the Prince’s face. The dressmakers and the rest of the audience had snapped to attention, yet still managed to cower as though they had fallen to their knees. Even Helvar, who had just rejoined them, looked worried he would be sacked on the spot.

  ‘Do I need to remind you, Catine?’ said the Prince. ‘Magic tricks are banned throughout Montilagus, and in this room especially. This is an insult to everyone who has suffered because of what happened the last time magic was performed here. You should be ashamed of yourself.’

  Catine didn’t look the least ashamed, as far as Matt could tell. He was pretty sure she hadn’t counted on her father turning up like this, however. Their experiment was over, just when it was getting interesting. Worse still, the Prince would want to know all about Matt and why he knew enough to re-enact the magical mishap of so long ago. Matt and his grandfather might end up in gaol after all, without any help from Genardi Kallinar.

  ‘Put this room back the way it was,’ said Prince Eisenne to the servants. Turning to Matt, who was still frozen in his pose, he said curtly, ‘Bring me that cape so I can put an end to this hurtful game.’