"Personally, she said, the whys and wherefores never interested me. I'm an artist. I don't care why something happens. Only the effect it has on my art."
Methydia held up a dark blue shirt with a plunging neckline and floppy sleeves. It was decorated like a starry night, silvery constellations swirling in the dim light of her cabin's oil lamps.
"This is perfect, she murmured. It'll bring out the blue of your eyes. Methydia set the shirt aside and continued rummaging.
She said, I created a circus to display my art. I didn't have the idea until my lovers made the Cloudship possible. I was an actress, then. Billed as a woman of beauty and mystery. I kept my witchery locked in a box, like my makeup. I only used it to cure a blemish, trouble a rival or heighten my performance by wresting a sob from the audience.
"But soon as I saw the Cloudship the idea came to me'Methydia's Flying Circus of Miracles. My life as an actressand hidden witchsuddenly seemed tawdry. Meaningless. Unfulfilling."
Methydia paused, holding up a pair of breeches that were a near match to the shirt. She studied it, then wrinkled her nose. Too too much, she muttered, tossing the breeches back into the chest and continuing her search.
"Where was I? she asked, then"Oh, yes. My life as unfulfilled actress. Her face turned serious, gestures dramatic. I wanted more, she said, and yes, I admit it, the more was applause. I'm a self-centered bitch, but then what true artist isn't? The circus gave my art purpose. And in that purpose I found my heart. That is the gift I give to my audience now… She laid a light hand on her breast. My heart."
She held the dramatic moment, then went on. I like to please people, she said, to lift away their troubles, to thrill them with danger that is always happening to another, but in the end they know is safe. I like to help them remember how it was to be young, how it was to love, and if they're younghow what might be, may be."
Suddenly Methydia solemn expression dissolved into one of delight. She clapped her hands, making Safar jump with surprise.
"Here's just the thing! she cried, hauling a pair of snowy white breeches from the trunk.
Methydia held them up, looking critical and turning them this way and that.
She tugged at the seat. We'll have take them in here, she said. Then she grinned, So the ladies can see your assets better."
Safar blushed, mumbling something about it not being seemly.
"Nonsense, Methydia replied. If Arlain and I can jiggle about for the lads, the least you can do is give the maids a thrill. That's what makes a show. A little sex, a little comedy, a clown chase. All frosting on the cake."
She placed the breeches next to the shirt. Now all we need is a wide belt and tight boots and you'll have the rubes eating out of your hand."
Then Methydia gave him his first lesson. To his surprise, she started by having him show her the coin spell he'd used on the little girl in Deming.
"That's easy, Safar said, I did that when I was a babemoving bright things around to amuse myself."
"Just show me, my sweet, she said, passing him a coin.
Safar threw the coin into the corner. While it was still rolling he gestured, made it vanish, gestured again, and it fell into Methydia's still-open hand.
"What's this? Methydia said, but in disdain, not amazement. You call that magic?"
She flipped the coin high into the air. Quickly she jabbed a dramatic finger at the deck. Safar's eyes followed. There was the sharp crack! of an explosion. A stream of green smoke bloomed updrawing Safar's eyes with itand the coin appeared to vanish in the cloud. Methydia leaned forward, her face coming so close Safar thought she was about to kiss him. Her lips grazed his, then she drew back, grinning.
She took his nose between finger and thumb, twisting it gently, once, twice, three times. And each time she twisted a coin dropped to his chest and rolled to the floor. She swept them up, threw them into the air, another crack! a stream of smoke and the three coins became one, which she snatched out of the air.
"Now, that's magic! she said, holding the coin in one hand and rolling it up and down from finger to finger in one continuous, fluid motion.
"But you didn't use sorcery at all! Safar protested. I would have felt it if you had."
Methydia laughed. Then how did I do it?"
"I don't know, Safar admitted. It must be some kind of trick."
"But it's a trick that will get a lot more applause than your magic, Methydia said.
Safar thought he understood. It's the smoke, he said. I can make smoke."
He gestured at the cabin deck. A thin stream of smoke boiled out of a spot on the plank. He raised his finger slowly and the smoke became a long stream. Then he snapped his fingers and the smoke vanished. Like that? he asked.
"No, no, Methydia said. It wasn't what I did, but how I did it. You used magic to make the smoke. I used this"
She opened her hand, displaying a small green pellet. She made a fleshy fold with her thumb, gripping and hiding the pellet in the fold. Then she rolled her hand over, made a graceful gesture with her forefinger and once again there was crack! and green smoke rose up.
"I used a device, she said, to cause an effect that looked like magic. You used real magic, but so clumsily it looked more like a device. The audience would have guessedwrongly, as it may bethat you had something hidden in your hand. The point is, you would have spoiled it for them."
"What about the coin part? Safar asked.
"Same thing, Methydia said. You threw it in a corner. People will think you did that to divert their attention away from the real trick. Whereas I threw it up into the air, where it appeared to remain in plain sight while I worked my other diversions."
He remembered the jabbing finger that drew his eyes and the near kiss that clouded his view. I think I see what you mean, he said. But you could have used real magic, not fakery, to accomplish the same thing."
"Not for two shows a day, I couldn't, Methydia said. Plus two and a matinee on Godsday. You have to pace yourself in this business. You need as much energy for the last act of the last show as you did when you started out. In entertainment, my sweet, that's what separates the green from the ripe."
But Safar was young and stubborn. It seems to me, he said, I did well enough with real magic when I conjured the coin into that little girl's hand. The crowd certainly acted impressed. And they bought out every seat in the tent to prove it."
"They thought she was a plant, Methydia said. A part of the show. I overheard some of them talking afterwards."
"Oh."
"It was the spirit of the trick that impressed them, she said. The poor little waif and her young mother. She smiled at Safar and patted his knee, saying, Even so, I have to give you credit for the idea. It was a certain crowd pleaser and I think we should make it a permanent part of our act."
Safar was as thrilled as if the praise had come from a master wizard instead of a circus witch.
"You have good instincts, my sweet, she said. And if you pay close attention to what your Auntie Methydia says, you'll make a marvelous showman."
The days that followed were among the most joyful in Safar's life. His heart was as serene as the skies they sailed through. His troubles seemed far offlike the dark storm clouds edging the horizon behind them.
As a mountain lad he'd spent many a hour perched on high peaks pondering the mysteries of the skies. He'd watched birds wing overhead and dreamed he was flying with them. In Methydia's Cloudship those dreams came true. Although his fellow passengers of the air could be a boisterous lot at time, especially during rehearsals when there was much joking and leg-pulling, at other times they seemed to treasure silence as much as he did. Hours would pass without a sound.