The Manual of Darkness by Enrique de Hériz Read Free Book Online Page B

constant rushing forward towards something new, something better, always something better, an imaginary goal which, if attained, simply meant starting again from the beginning. The more the maestro fuelled this frantic search, the better a magician his student would become. He was doomed to fall from grace: he might be courageous, enthusiastic, perhaps even brilliant, prize-winning, but he would fall from favour in the end. Did Víctor have the strength and the discipline necessary to ride this rollercoaster without being thrown off?
    To judge by the enthusiasm with which he presented himself at his second lesson, he was not lacking in determination. When he saw the boy take out the deck of cards, Galván could not help but smile. The cards looked as though they were about to fall to pieces. Clearly Víctor had been practising Hoffmann’s card trick over and over.
    ‘I’ve been thinking,’ the student said as he sat down at the table, ‘I could pick up the deck and say …’
    ‘Don’t tell me what you could do.’ The maestro cut him off immediately. ‘Show me …’
    Víctor smoothed the green baize mat several times to gain a fewseconds, as though he needed to run through the story before launching into it, then he began:
    ‘Actually, I’m not a magician.’
    ‘Stand up,’ Galván commanded.
    ‘Actually, I’m not a magician,’ Víctor said as he got to his feet, irritated at the interruptions and clutching the deck tensely in his left hand. ‘The thing is, I found this deck of cards and it turns out they have magic powers …’
    Galván’s heart skipped a beat. He had heard a thousand different versions of this story. Whenever a magician lacks experience or talent, they play dumb. The most common thing is for the magician to start by saying that, actually, he is not a magician, or he is, but only reluctantly, that objects acquire miraculous powers the moment he picks them up. If it works, it’s a double triumph because the magician has overcome his self-proclaimed lack of ability; if he fails, he has set up a logic by which his failure can be viewed as funny, winning him the sympathy of the audience.
    Galván repressed the sigh that welled up inside him so as not to influence Víctor, but he could not help but look at the boy pleadingly: don’t let me down, make me correct the way you hold your cards as often as you like, pick the wrong card, get nervous, drop the whole pack on the floor, but show me something of yourself, show me some talent.
    Víctor carried on with his predictable story, which gave him time to shuffle and cut the cards precisely as the trick required.
    ‘And the best thing is that every single one of these cards has the same powers. To prove it, we’re going to pick a card at random. And so you can be sure that I’m not cheating, I’m going to flick them from one hand to the other until you tell me to stop. The card at the top of the deck when you say stop will be our card.’
    Galván had the good grace to wait until at least half the cards had been transferred before saying ‘Stop.’
    Víctor handed him the card and the maestro screwed up his face.
    ‘No,’ he said seriously.
    ‘No what?’
    ‘It has to be a different card.’
    Víctor did not understand.
    ‘Is it the ace of hearts?’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘Then it worked, that’s what it’s supposed to be.’
    ‘That’s why it should be a different card.’
    ‘I don’t understand.’
    ‘All are children of God. Never forget that. A deck has fifty-two cards and all of them are children of God. The magician’s first weapon is chance. And it’s not plausible that chance would always pick aces and kings. It makes you a banal magician. Like writers who only tell tales of great feats, or musicians who play only catchy tunes.’
    ‘OK, I get it.’
    ‘What’s the next card?’
    Víctor turned it over and said:
    ‘The six of clubs.’
    ‘Perfect. Let’s suppose chance has picked that one. All are children of