“Certainly.”
Valérie turned around, feeling more confident. She looked fully at her husband, who was pleased with the result of their deliberations.
“However, I do wish you’d make it clear to Antonina that she must not be seeking you to adjudicate on these matters. Your aunt has entrusted her care to us, and I am merely looking out for her.”
“I will speak to her. Do not worry,” Gaétan said.
She felt wicked for a brief moment, for deceiving him. But she could not have told him the truth, that she’d met Hector years before and he was more than a performer she had once, casually, chanced upon. That was impossible. She could have steered Hector away from their household, though. She could still do it. She could convince Gaétan that the trip to the theater had been a disaster, make up a lie.
Valérie doubted she would. She felt irresistibly thrust forward. A force had been set in motion and she was unwilling to stop it.
CHAPTER 6
Nina woke up early the day they were supposed to go to the Royal and spent an inordinate amount of time considering her hair. Valérie had picked her dress for this occasion, a dress that Nina did not like at all, but she did not want to jeopardize the invitation and she grudgingly obeyed her instructions.
The dress was white with long sleeves, three tiers of lace, and a pleated yellow satin sash. Valérie insisted it was the perfect dress for the evening. Nina thought it made her look washed out. She would have preferred the green dress she’d brought from home with the embroidered roses, but Valérie had imperiously declared it too gaudy.
White, then. But Valérie would not dictate her hair. It would have to be done up, but Nina decided it would be worn in an elaborate knot. This required the maid to part her hair into four sections, twist and gather it at the top of the head, and then place a back comb and hairpins to secure the hairdo in place.
She also picked her emerald necklace rather than the pearls Valérie had helpfully suggested.
They left the house close to seven o’clock. The carriage rolled down the wide boulevards, onto the Avenue of Ashes, named thus because the Temple of Our Lady of Ashes was located midway through it. The Convent of the Sisters of Solitude could still be glimpsed behind a tall wall and rows of poplars, but the avenue was not a place for holy thoughts anymore. It had morphed into one of the busiest arteries in the city, with many fine restaurants and entertainment venues. The Opera House rose on the area known as the Mound, but other establishments were also perched along the avenue. Key among these was the Royal.
The Royal, like its rival, the Pavilion, branded itself not as pure entertainment, but also as an enriching, educational experience. At the Royal, patrons could be treated to displays of the latest electromagnetic gadgets, optical illusions, or a plain old dance troupe. The eclectic mix required a wide range of performers, from makers of complex automatons to musicians. Of most interest were the “talents,” those individuals who possessed strange abilities science was beginning to unravel. There were those who could make objects burst into flames and people who had mastery over animals, but Nina was most fascinated by the talents who could manipulate objects with their thoughts. Among these people, there was no doubt that Hector Auvray occupied a special place.
When Nina descended from the carriage, she looked up, wishing to take the time to admire the outlandish building. It was a large structure and looked far too excessive to really be called attractive, but its vastness inspired a certain reverence.
The arched doorways were flanked by two marble elephants, their trunks in the air. The main hall led to an imposing staircase. The floors were decorated with elaborate blue-and-white mosaics, the chandeliers dangling from the ceiling glittered, fairy-tale-like.
Nina and Valérie proceeded to the red-and-golden private box where they would watch the performance. Nina had not been to the Royal and she leaned forward, looking around with interest at the people beneath them and in the boxes around them, at the stage with its red velvet curtains, curious about every detail. Valérie, for her part, held her peacock fan in her lap and did not look at anything, her gaze fixed on a singular, invisible point.
The curtain rose. Music began to play and dancers streamed onto the stage. Nina felt impatient as they performed, the minutes ticking by. Finally the dance ended, the curtain fell again, and then rose for the main performance.
A man appeared and greeted the audience. The musicians assembled by the stage began playing a popular melody—“The Chestnuts”—and the man smiled, bowing.
“Welcome,” said the gray-haired man. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. In a few minutes, you will be treated to a display of wonders. But first I must make it clear that everything that takes place on this stage is real: no parlor tricks, no sleight of hand.”
The man gestured left and right, as if mapping the stage. “You are about to meet one of the most talented psychokinetics of our age. He has performed before queens and bishops, tantalizing audiences from Luquennay to Anuv. There is no feat that is too difficult, no manipulation of matter that evades him. And tonight he stands before you. I present Hector Auvray.”
Another curtain rose and an elaborate backdrop was revealed, a view of Loisail from the air. Hector walked slowly onstage as everyone applauded. The posters showed him with a crimson cape, but he wore a double-breasted black dress coat, a burgundy waistcoat with details in gold thread, and a wide, matching cravat enhanced by a gold pin. When he reached the center of the stage, he bowed and took off his white gloves, handing them to an assistant.
“First, Mr. Auvray will demonstrate to you the basic nature of his talent,” said the announcer. “Here we have but half a dozen ordinary chairs. Nothing to them, mere wood and a few nails.”
As he spoke, Hector’s assistants set down the chairs in a row. Hector stood in front of the row of chairs, without looking at them, his eyes fixed on the audience. Then he moved a hand and the chairs all moved in that direction, as if roped together. He moved his hand in the other direction and the chairs settled back in place. A flicker of his hands and the chairs stacked themselves on each other to the oohs and ahhs of the viewers, then unstacked themselves.
“Large objects are no concern for Mr. Auvray, but how about something smaller?” the announcer asked. “A deck of cards, perhaps.”
An assistant approached Hector, and he took a deck of cards, letting it rest on the palm of his hand for a moment before he began shuffling the cards in the air. He made the cards dance around him, then whirl up and down the stage like a tornado, circling the announcer, who was reciting more lines about the deck, a common deck, and the finesse required to perform this kind of demonstration.
Next there was a change of backdrops, more music, and explanations before Hector emerged again and stood in the middle of the stage. They lit long white candles all around him. Thirty, forty, perhaps. The announcer continued with his speech, discussing the nature of fire and a divine spark, and Nina leaned forward in the dark, wishing she could be closer to the stage or that he might lift his head in their direction. He knew the box they occupied.
“Watch now, as even fire cannot evade the command of Mr. Auvray,” the announcer said.
Hector raised his hands, the candle flames rising with them, and with one movement of his arms they merged into a prodigious ball of fire that he then snuffed out with a clap of his hands, causing several spectators to shriek because, for a moment, it seemed like he was about to scorch himself.