Chapter 9 magic lesson

1875-1880 Celia can be said to have grown up in the theater.Mostly New York theaters, but also other cities, Boston, Chicago, San Francisco, and occasionally as far away as Milan, Paris or London.The theaters mingled in a haze of musty and velvet and sawdust that sometimes made her even forget which country she was in, but she didn't care. Her father used to take her around from a young age, putting her on expensive gowns after performances and parading her around bars like a beloved puppy, receiving compliments from peers and friends. When he finds that she's grown too tall to be a cute accessory, he starts leaving her alone in dressing rooms or hotels.

Every night she thought maybe he wouldn't come back, but he also kept staggering in at the most inopportune time, sometimes patting her on the head while she was pretending to sleep, and sometimes ignoring her at all . Her classes have become much more flexible.Before, he would ask her to sit down for training at the appointed time, although not regularly, but now he tests her often, but never publicly. Even something as simple as tying shoelaces, he forbade her to do it.She had to stare at her shoes, silently letting the laces bow and loop on their own, watching them tangle up with a frown.

When she asked questions, her father was always reluctant to answer.She figured the man in the gray suit her father called Alexander had an apprentice too, and they might have a contest or something. Like a chess game?once she asked. No, her father replied: It's not the same as playing chess. The boy grew up in a city house in London.He was not allowed to see anyone, and even those who brought him three meals had to slip the covered trays into the door and leave in the same way.Once a month, a man who doesn't speak comes to cut his hair.Once a year, the same man would come and measure him for a new suit.

Boys spend most of their time reading and, of course, writing.He copied many passages from the book, wrote many words and symbols that he could not understand at first, but soon became very familiar under his ink-stained fingers, forming complete sentences more and more fluently time after time .He read history books, myths and novels.Gradually, he also learned many languages ​​of other countries, although he was not very fluent. He also has occasional visits to museums and libraries, taking advantage of off-peak hours when visitors are rare, if ever.The boy loves to visit these places, to browse the exhibits, but also to let him escape from the dull routine of life for a while.But this kind of opportunity is too rare, and he is not allowed to go out without being accompanied.

The man in the gray suit came to see him in his room every day.Most likely would bring a new batch of books and spend a full hour teaching him something he wasn't sure he'd understand one day. Only once did the boy ask when he would be able to do it too, the kind of thing that the gray-clothed man would occasionally show his hands on in the middle of a well-organized lesson. When your heat is up.That's the answer he always gets. And he's been considered undercooked for a long time. The pigeons that appeared on the stage in Prospero's performance, and occasionally in the audience, were divided into several exquisite cages and sent to each theater together with his luggage and equipment. .

The door slammed, and several luggage and boxes were thrown into his dressing room, knocking over a cage full of pigeons.The trunk was quickly righted and Hector took the cage to inspect the damage. Most of the pigeons just got knocked over their heads, but one apparently had a broken wing.Hector gently grabbed it out of the cage, and when he put the cage down, the crooked grille of the cage was slowly repaired.can you fix itCelia asked. Her father looked at the injured pigeon, then at his daughter, waiting for her to ask a different question. can i fix itshe said after a while. You just try it.Her father said and handed the pigeon to her.

Celia gently stroked the trembling pigeon, staring intently at its broken wing. The bird made a painful choking sound that was very different from the usual cooing. I have no idea.Celia said with tears in her eyes, and took the bird back to her father. Hector took the pigeon and quickly twisted its neck, ignoring his daughter's crying and protesting. Living things have another set of rules, he said: You should practice with more basic things.He picked up Celia's only doll from the chair beside him, threw it on the ground, and the enamel head of the doll shattered. The next day, when Celia took the fully restored doll to show her father, he only nodded in approval, then dismissed her, and returned to continue his preparations before the performance.

You can cure that bird.Celia said. Then you won't learn anything.Hector said.You have to know where your limit is before you can go beyond it.Do you want to win this game? Celia nodded and looked down at the doll.There was not a trace of damage to it, not a crack in that stupid, smiling face. She threw it under the chair and did not take it with her father when she left the theater. The man in gray took the boy on a trip that wasn't quite a vacation in France.The boy was not informed in advance and his small suitcase was packed without his knowledge. The boy guessed that they were there to study some kind of course, but there was no specific place of study.After the first day, he suspected they might have been there just for the food, fascinated by the crisp bread and wide variety of cheeses baked in the local bakery.

They also visit many museums during off-peak hours.The boy tried to imitate his mentor as he quietly walked down the exhibition aisle, but couldn't, embarrassed by the echo of his every step.He asked for a sketchbook, but his instructor insisted that he keep all the images in his head. One night the boy was sent to the theater. He thought he was watching a stage play or a ballet, but it turned out to be a performance beyond his expectations. THE MAN ON THE STAGE A greasy-haired, bearded fellow with white-gloved hands dancing like birds before his black suit performed simple tricks and tricks with feints of the hands.The bird disappeared in the cage with the chassis mechanism, the handkerchief was drawn from the pocket and tucked into the cuff.

Boy curiously looks at magician and humbled audience.The audience seemed to admire this deceitful behavior, and continued to applaud politely. When he posed the question to his mentor after the performance, the answer was that the matter would have to wait until he was back in London for the weekend. The next night, the boy was taken to a larger theater, where he was again left alone to watch the show.The size of the audience alone made him quite nervous, it was the first time he was in a venue like this packed with people. The man on the stage looked older than the magician from the night before, and his clothes were much more elaborate.His movements are so precise that each performance is not only rare, but also mesmerizing.

The audience applauded much more enthusiastically. And the magician had no handkerchief hidden in the cuff of a lace shirt, and the birds bursting from all sides had no cage to stay in.These were the skills and tricks that the boy had only seen in his magic lessons, and the tricks and illusions that he had been solemnly told to keep secret. When Prospero, the master of magic, bowed and took the curtain call, the boy applauded loudly along with the audience. Likewise, his mentor insisted on answering his questions only after returning to London. Once they were back at their London residence, resuming what felt like an uninterrupted routine, the man in gray asked the boy first how the two performances were different. The first person used many small traps and mirrors to divert the audience's attention and create illusions.The second one, the one with the same name as the character in The Tempest, he does superficially the same thing, but he doesn't use mirrors or tricks, his way Just like you. great. Do you know that person?the boy asked. I have known him for a long time.said his mentor. Does he also impart techniques, as you imparted to me? His mentor nodded, but didn't say much. Why can't everyone see the difference?the boy asked.It was all too clear to him, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly why.It was something he felt as clearly as he saw it with his eyes. People only see what they want to see, and most of the time, they think they see it. They did not discuss the topic in depth. There were a few non-holiday trips after that, but the boy never saw another magician again, though not often. The master of magic, Prospero, cut open his daughter's fingers with a knife, one by one, watched her screaming silently, then calmed down and began to heal the wound, with the blood dripping back slowly. The skin bonded together again, and the swirls on the fingertips gathered together again, firmly merging together. Celia let go of her shoulders and released the tension that was entangled in it. It can be seen that her pain has finally been relieved. Her father gave her only a moment to breathe before cutting open her newly healed finger again. The man in the gray suit pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and threw it on the table, where it landed with a muffled thud, for something heavier than silk was concealed in its folds.He pulled up the square piece of silk, allowing the thing hidden inside, a gold finger, to roll onto the table.Its surface was somewhat dull, and it bore what the boy supposed to be Latin inscriptions, but the writing was so intricately etched that he couldn't decipher them. The man in gray stuffed the empty handkerchief back into his pocket. Today we are going to learn about constraint relationships.He said. When the lesson came to a stage that included practical exercises, he instructed the boy to place the ring in his own hand.Whatever the circumstances, he never touched the boy. The boy tried desperately to remove the ring from his finger that was sinking into his skin, but to no avail. Binding relationships are permanent, children.The man in gray said. What am I bound by?the boy asked, frowning at the scar left by the disappearance of the ring. An obligation you already have, and a character you won't meet for a while.You don't need to know too many details at the moment, it's just a procedure. The boy just nodded and stopped asking.But this night, when he was alone in his room and couldn't sleep, he spent hours staring at his hand in the moonlight, wondering who it was that bound him. Thousands of miles away, in a packed theater where performers on stage were being applauded, Celia.Bowen curled up in the shadows of discarded props backstage, crying.