“What is the secret? It’s all in the power of the mind, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer said as the assistants wheeled out a box. The announcer reached into the box and pulled out a handful of crystals, which sparkled under the lights of the stage.
Hector also reached into the box, and the crystals rose and coalesced into different shapes: a box, a sphere, even a flower.
When the moneyed people of Loisail entertained themselves, they were not supposed to display emotion. Neither glee nor passion colored their faces. This silliness was left to the common people. But Nina, candid, smiled widely and tried to speak to Valérie, sharing her thoughts about the performance. Valérie whacked her on the wrist with her fan and Nina bit her lip. She did not try to speak again, but she did not wash the excited smile from her face.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, we must ask what seems like a silly question. Can Mr. Auvray dance? Yes? What do you think? We’d need music to find out.”
There was chuckling as the musicians pressed their bows against the strings and murmurs that increased as the assistants dragged three extremely tall mirrors onstage. Hector traced a circle around a mirror, then another, then a third, and the mirror began to spin with him. Then a second mirror spun, and a third, all perfectly synchronized. He stood in the middle of a circle of whirling glass, the mirrors shifting with the music. They were “dancing,” as the man had promised.
“Isn’t it magnificent?” the announcer asked, but the wonders had not ceased. Hector gestured to one of the mirrors and it fell, resting above the floor. He stepped onto the mirror and with a flick of his hands moved another in front of him, stepping onto that one as well, as though he were climbing up a moving, ever-shifting staircase. Once he had ascended high above the stage, he stood still on top of a mirror, like a character from a children’s book riding a magic carpet. The audience gasped as he drifted above their heads, around the theater.
He rose high; his hands brushed the monstrous chandelier dangling above the audience’s head. He lost his grip and plummeted and everyone shrieked. Nina pressed a hand against her mouth, jumping up from her seat, the clangor of a cymbal punctuating the beating of her heart, but then he rose again, smiling, and everyone let out a breathless sigh as the music swelled and the announcer declared that this was Hector Auvray, ladies and gentlemen, the one and only.
“Please put your hands together for Mr. Auvray,” said the announcer.
Nina obeyed and clapped as hard as she could. Valérie pulled her back down, onto her seat, with an angry scowl.
When the show ended, Nina and Valérie remained in their box. Valérie slowly fanning herself, Nina fiddling with her gloves—she’d taken them off and now struggled to put them on again. Hector arrived shortly after. He had changed into more casual wear, a gray dinner jacket, an overcoat under his arm. Tall, slim, and charged with a palpable magnetism that might have been the energy left from his performance, he stepped forward, and Nina dropped one of her gloves.
“Ladies,” he said with a bow, kissing Valérie’s hand, then Nina’s. “I hope you enjoyed yourselves.”
“It was amazing!” Nina said at once. “I’ve never seen the likes of it.”
She might have told him a thousand things she had enjoyed, but he turned to Valérie politely.
“And you, what did you think?” he asked Valérie.
“It was a fine performance.”
“Had you ever seen a show of this type?”
Valérie’s mouth was grave. She shook her head. “Not on this scale,” Valérie replied.
“You must tell me how you do it. Especially the process with the cards,” Nina said.
“Don’t be a bother, Nina. I’m sure he does not want to explain the finer details of his work.”
“Perhaps in the future we can discuss it,” he said.
She felt vindicated by his words. Valérie made it seem like it was horrid to be interested in telekinesis. Nina could not see the harm in it. It was not as if she could pretend she was not a talent of a sort herself. Ever since she was a girl, she’d made things move. She’d given the maids a bit of a fright at times—the rain of stones upon the house lingered heavy in everyone’s memory—and she couldn’t control it well, but Nina tried to consider it all in a scientific light. The universe was unveiling new wonders every day, the motorcar and the photographic camera, to name but a handful of the inventions dazzling the world. She preferred to classify herself as one of these new wonders.
On occasion her thoughts turned less jovial. There were taunts and misunderstandings, angry recriminations when her ability disturbed the household. Even Mama and Madelena had at times looked at her with worry.
“Would you like to go to Maximilian’s?” Hector asked.
“Can we?” Nina asked, turning to Valérie.
“Only for a few minutes,” Valérie replied.
Maximilian’s was close by. They walked. At this point in the night, the restaurant was busy, but Hector had either secured a reservation or was deemed sufficiently important that they were quickly shown to their table.
The inside was brightly illuminated, gleaming silver and sparkling glass and lacquered tables dazzling the eye. Hector ordered champagne and ether-soaked strawberries. The combination was tangy, but not unpleasant.
When they socialized, Valérie invariably directed the conversation, but Nina was emboldened, either by the setting or the company, and she raised her voice and her glass.
“You must tell me what Iblevad is like,” Nina said.
“It would be difficult to describe a whole continent,” he said soberly.
“Do try,” she said.
Nina had seen drawings in books, colorful plates that reproduced the flora and fauna of Iblevad, but she wanted him to speak of it, to make it more real. He seemed to give it a thought.
“The north is gruesomely cold in the winter. Sometimes when you take a breath, it hurts, that is how cold it is. But to the south there are jungles, and if you walk there in the summer, under the heat of the noon sun, you will truly believe you will be cooked alive even if you wear a straw hat.”
“And armadillos roam all around?” she asked.
“There are armadillos, yes.”
“Iridescent butterflies, too.”
“Yes.”
“It must be a sight, Port Anselm in the spring.”
He had, until that moment, been distracted, but his eyes fixed on her then as if he had just noticed they were sharing a table, and there was mirth in his gaze. What she’d said had pleased him, and his words came more easily, regaling her with an exact description of the port, how it looked in the afternoon sun.
Valérie looked irritated. She hardly drank a sip and her eyes were hard. Nina guessed she wished to go home, but Nina would not move an inch. Hector spoke about Port Anselm, and Nina asked him many questions. How long had he been there? How had he arrived, by boat or train? She might have spoken to him all night long. But she was not a drinker—the champagne and strawberries had gone to her head—and despite her best efforts, she found herself yawning. This was her undoing.
Valérie uncoiled a smile. “Poor Antonina, we must get you to bed,” Valérie said a little too loudly.