Zigzag Effect Page 3

  Herb raised one shoulder. ‘Bianca is scared of technology,’ he said. ‘And I … just don’t really care.’

  ‘So … what exactly do you do here?’ asked Sage, as the computer started to whirr.

  ‘I help set up the show,’ said Herb. ‘And help Armand refine his effects. There are one or two that I designed myself.’ He attempted a modest look, but failed miserably and shot Sage his goofy smile.

  She smiled back. ‘So you do magic too?’

  He nodded. ‘I’m pretty good,’ he said, clearly having abandoned modesty. ‘I’m working on some new material – big stuff, which I’ll use when I eventually go solo.’

  The desktop finally appeared on the computer, and Sage clicked around. ‘Do you have a booking system?’ she asked.

  ‘We have an answering machine. People just leave a message if they want to book.’

  ‘But where do you record that booking? On a spreadsheet or something?’

  ‘We just write it down on a post-it.’

  Sage narrowed her eyes. ‘You’re kidding, right?’

  Herb blinked and looked apologetic. ‘Um,’ he said. ‘No. I don’t really do computers. I know about Wikipedia. And YouTube. And there are a few magician’s forums I post on at home. Otherwise … not so much.’

  Sage peered around the back of the computer. ‘Um,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose there’s an internet connection?’

  Herb spread his hands helplessly.

  Sage sighed. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Is there any kind of budget for upgrading the system? Can I order a broadband connection? Then I could set up an online booking system.’

  ‘I’m not sure what any of that means, but it sounds very impressive. I’ll talk to Armand.’

  Sage shook her head in disbelief. ‘What century are you guys from?’

  ‘I’m really good at designing magic effects,’ said Herb. ‘I’ve won competitions and stuff.’

  ‘Did you design that last trick?’ Sage asked, hoping Herb would say he hadn’t. The image of the swords penetrating Bianca’s flesh still made her feel uncomfortable.

  ‘Nah,’ said Herb. ‘That’s an old one. Although I did add the bit at the end with the floating chair and the petal explosion. I actually wanted to rework the whole thing, and do it with a cardboard box instead of a wooden one, and umbrellas instead of swords. But Armand says it looks too cheap. I told him it would work better, because with the fancy wood cabinet, everyone just figures it’s specially built with a trick bottom for the assistant to slip into.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘Well,’ said Herb, looking slightly put out. ‘But that’s the great thing about the cardboard box – the whole illusion changes. This German magician, Hans Moretti, does it with a cardboard box, and I watched it about a million times on YouTube before I finally figured it out. It took a whole week, of just watching it over and over again. I don’t think I showered or slept. But it’s an awesome trick. You see, the cardboard box …’ He stopped, and rubbed his hand over the top of his head. ‘I can’t tell you,’ he said, with an apologetic smile. ‘Magician’s Code.’

  ‘Magician’s what?’

  He shrugged. ‘There’s a code. I’m a member of the Magician’s League, and I swore an oath that I wouldn’t give away any magic secrets to non-members.’

  Sage snorted. ‘You swore an oath? Did you put your hand on your heart and everything?’

  Herb didn’t seem to notice her sarcastic tone. ‘Yes,’ he said, and put his hand on his heart. ‘As a magician I promise never to reveal the secret of an illusion to a non-magician, unless they take the Magician’s Oath in turn. I promise never to perform any illusion without first practising the effect until I can maintain the illusion of magic.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Sage, feeling a little put out. ‘Show me a trick, then. You’re allowed to do that, right?’

  As if he’d been waiting for her to ask, Herb lifted a metal bucket from a milk crate in the corner and put it on the desk with a clank. Warren started, and looked accusingly at the bucket.

  ‘Sorry, Warren,’ said Herb. ‘Didn’t mean to wake you. Here.’ He pulled a carrot and a handful of lettuce leaves from the bucket, and placed them near the edge of the desk. Warren loped across and began happily munching.

  ‘That wasn’t the trick.’ Herb pulled the milk crate over and sat on it. ‘The carrot was already in the bucket. The bucket is now empty.’ He showed it to Sage.

  She nodded. The bucket was empty.

  ‘Now,’ said Herb. ‘Do you have a dollar?’

  Sage produced one from her purse. Herb took it, and dropped it into the bucket with a metallic clang. ‘This is how our wages get paid,’ he explained. ‘It’s a magic bucket that fills up with coins.’

  ‘I get paid with my own dollar?’ asked Sage, laughing. ‘That’s it, I’m joining a union.’

  ‘No, no, no,’ said Herb. ‘It’s more like an investment account. You need to put a dollar in there to start things rolling. Like a seed. Then, hopefully, more money will just appear—’ he pulled a coin from the air and dropped it into the bucket, ‘—out of nowhere.’ He pulled another coin from the air, then one from Sage’s ear, and one from his own ear, then one from Warren’s ear. Each coin clanged as it was dropped into the bucket. Herb spat a handful of coins from his mouth into the bucket, then turned Warren’s carrot into another handful, much to Warren’s indignant disgust. He produced a handkerchief and sneezed into it, then shook it out over the bucket, producing another shower of coins.

  ‘Can you move your hand?’ he asked.

  Sage lifted her hand from where it rested on the desk, and there was another dollar underneath it. Herb’s movements were so smooth and in control, it was like watching a ballet. He lifted up Warren, revealing another handful of coins. Warren was not impressed, but Sage was.

  Coin after coin clattered into the bucket. Finally Herb peered inside.

  ‘That looks like a decent wage,’ he said. ‘But coins are annoying, right?’ He picked the bucket up, struggling with its weight. Sage could hear the coins clinking together inside. Then Herb turned the bucket upside down. Sage flinched, expecting hundreds of coins to come spilling out. But instead just one small rectangle of plastic tumbled out and fell onto the desk in front of her.

  ‘So I put the money in your bank account,’ said Herb.

  Sage picked up the plastic card. It was her bank card. She stared at it, open-mouthed. ‘How did you get this?’ she said, turning it over to check that it was real. ‘Did you pick my pocket? Tell me how you did it! And the coins. Where did they all go?’

  Herb’s mouth twisted in just a hint of a smile. ‘I can’t tell you.’

  Sage felt a little wounded. ‘Not even a clue?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Then do it again.’

  ‘Absolutely not. A magician never repeats an effect.’

  Sage scowled at him.

  ‘How about instead I teach you a basic coin vanish?’ Herb said. ‘This one isn’t really a secret. Here.’ He handed back her dollar, and produced another from his pocket, showing her how to tuck it between the folds of her palm.

  ‘This is the classic palm,’ he explained. ‘By just slightly bringing your thumb and little finger together, you can grip the coin in your palm, and still move your hand around like there’s no coin there. You can also do a thumb palm,’ he tucked the coin in the corner where his forefinger met his thumb, ‘or a finger palm,’ he placed the coin on the lower section of his fingers, curling them down a little to hold the coin in place. ‘Now, get ready, because I’m about to tell you the most important secret of magic.’

  ‘I thought you weren’t allowed to.’

  ‘This particular secret is a pretty well-known one,’ said Herb with a grin. ‘It’s on Wikipedia, so I don’t think they’ll send the magic goons after me for telling you.’

  ‘I’m all ears.’

  ‘Misdirection,’ said Herb. ‘The number-one most important thing.’

 
He put his coin on the table and slid it towards him, curling his right fist around it. He seemed to transfer it to his left hand, which he also closed in a fist. ‘Which hand?’

  Sage thought about what he had said. ‘That one.’ She pointed to his right hand, feeling clever.

  Herb blew on his fist and opened it, wiggling his fingers. It was empty.

  ‘That one, then,’ Sage said, pointing to his left hand.

  Herb blew again, opening his left hand and wiggling the fingers. No coin.

  ‘It’s up your sleeve,’ said Sage.

  Herb rolled up his sleeves, and held his hands out to Sage for examination. She turned his palms over, looking for the coin. His hands were smooth and warm, with long, graceful fingers. Sage suspected that if he’d lived two hundred years ago, he would probably have enjoyed a career as a pickpocket.

  ‘I give up,’ she said, even though she was reluctant to let go of his hands. ‘Where is it?’

  Herb grinned. ‘It’s vanished,’ he said, with a theatrical flourish. ‘Magic.’

  Sage stared at him. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Now tell me how you do it.’

  ‘There’s a thing called the Sucker Effect,’ said Herb. ‘It’s where you fool people by making them think they’ve figured it out, when really they’re not even close. It’s a kind of misdirection.’

  ‘So where’s the coin?’

  Herb shrugged. ‘You never pick up the coin,’ he said. He dropped it back on the table, and using his fingers, slid it towards him. ‘You just slide it off into your lap,’ he said. ‘And then pretend that you picked it up. Then when you’ve checked both my hands and sleeves, I pick it up from my lap, palm it, and pull it out of your ear.’

  ‘So you were asking me to pick which hand,’ said Sage. ‘But it had never been in either hand.’

  ‘Correct. That’s the Sucker Effect. You do something, while making the audience think you did something else. So they’re all busy feeling self-congratulatory that they figured it out, and it gives you all this awesome wriggle room to keep tricking them.’

  Sage practised sliding the dollar across the table and making it look like she was picking it up. ‘Zacky is going to love this.’

  ‘Your boyfriend?’

  ‘My brother,’ said Sage, feeling weirdly pleased that the mention of a potential boyfriend had wiped the smile from Herb’s face.

  ‘Ah,’ said Herb, brightening. ‘He of the misplaced wand. He likes magic?’

  ‘He loves magic. He wants to be Harry Potter when he grows up. He sleeps with his wand under his pillow.’

  Herb grinned. ‘I admire a young man with ambition and dedication to his craft.’

  Sage grinned back at him. Maybe moving to Melbourne hadn’t been such a terrible thing after all.

  3. Load: to secretly place an object in a location.

  As she slipped in the front door, Sage heard voices in the living room. Dad was home before ten on a weeknight – perhaps it was a special occasion. Sage paused at the living-room door and listened.

  ‘The thing is,’ Dad was saying, ‘splitting up a family always has big repercussions. It’s not just the emotional impact on the kids. There’s also a big financial impact. Expenses basically double.’

  Sage froze, her hand on the doorknob. Splitting up a family? Whose family?

  ‘I suppose sometimes it just can’t be helped,’ said Mum, her voice so soft that Sage could barely make out the words. ‘Sometimes things just don’t work out.’

  A funny feeling started to seep into Sage as she listened. Who were they talking about? Before she could hear any more, the sound of pounding feet on stairs filled her ears, and Zacky came tearing into the hallway.

  ‘Sage!’ he bellowed. ‘I went to see an exhibition in the city with my new friend Roman!’

  Sage pushed aside the funny feeling and smiled at her brother. ‘Really?’ she asked. ‘What kind of exhibition?’

  ‘Computer games,’ said Zacky, his eyes shining. ‘There were MILLIONS of games there and me and Roman played ALL of them except for some that Roman’s mum said we weren’t allowed to because we’re not old enough. But I played the Harry Potter game and one with an elf and one with a snake and one where I got to fly a plane …’

  Sage nodded encouragingly and tuned him out. She knew from experience that Zacky’s lists could go on for some time. Eventually he stopped, and Sage pushed open the living-room door.

  Mum was curled up on the sofa, laptop on her knees. Dad sat opposite her in an armchair, leafing through a manila folder.

  ‘Sage,’ he said with a beaming grin. ‘We were about to send out a search party.’

  ‘You’re home,’ she said. ‘On time.’

  Dad put down his folder and held out his arms for a hug. Zacky pushed past Sage and launched himself into Dad’s lap. Sage smiled and leaned over to hug them both, breathing in the familiar smell of Dad’s aftershave.

  ‘So what adventures have you been up to?’ asked Dad. ‘I’ve already heard all about Zacky’s. In great detail.’

  ‘Um,’ said Sage. ‘I got a job.’

  Mum looked up from her laptop. ‘You what?’

  ‘Helping out with the magic show we went to see. Zacky forgot his wand and I went back into the theatre and they offered me a job.’

  Zacky looked thunderstruck. ‘You’re going to work for The Great Armand?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Are you going to learn how to do magic?’

  ‘Probably not,’ said Sage, thinking of Herb. ‘Magicians are pretty secretive.’

  ‘Well done, kiddo,’ said Dad, his face splitting open in a grin. ‘Your first job. Next stop – prime minister of Australia.’

  Sage looked at Mum, who didn’t look as pleased.

  ‘Are you sure you can handle a job right now?’ she asked, her brow creasing in a frown. ‘I mean, we’re still settling in here, and you’ve got school in a few weeks.’

  ‘It’s only until school starts,’ said Sage. ‘Plus it’s mostly in the evenings, so if you get a job I’ll still be at home during the day to look after Zacky.’

  ‘If I’m not playing at Roman’s house,’ said Zacky.

  ‘Of course,’ said Sage.

  ‘Great,’ said Mum. ‘It sounds great.’ But she didn’t really look as if she meant it.

  ‘It means I can pay for the Yoshi Lear course,’ said Sage. ‘I rang them up and they said I can pay in instalments, and there’s an old film camera at the studio I can borrow.’

  ‘Fabulous,’ said Dad. ‘This calls for a celebration! What about pizza?’

  Mum shot him a Look. ‘Greg, I’m not sure we should be spending—’

  ‘Pizza it is!’ said Dad. ‘Zacky, run and get the menu off the fridge while I change out of these work clothes.’

  They both left the room. Sage looked at her mother, who was staring at the laptop again. ‘Mum? Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Mum with a faint smile. ‘Just tired. I’m sorry for not being more excited about your job. I think it’s great, I really do. I only wish we’d been able to pay for your photography classes. I feel bad.’

  ‘Don’t,’ said Sage, plonking herself down on the couch next to Mum. ‘This is a good thing. I think I’m going to enjoy working at the theatre. There are a couple of other young people there, and I’m getting to know the city a bit better.’

  She rested her head on Mum’s shoulder.

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘Yes, sweetheart?’

  ‘What were you and Dad talking about? Before Zacky and I came in?’

  There was a long pause. ‘Just a case that your father is working on.’

  ‘Right,’ said Sage, and wondered why she didn’t feel more relieved.

  Sage’s duties at the Lyric Theatre were pretty straightforward. She would arrive mid-afternoon on Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, and mid-morning on Saturdays and Sundays for the matinees. She would help Herb set up the stage, then retire to their poky little office and work on the ou
tstanding invoices. Apparently Armand had approved the broadband connection, as Herb had produced a company credit card from Sage’s ear and told her to proceed. After two days, she’d worked through most of the in-tray, throwing out the junk mail and dealing with the unpaid invoices. Her job next week was to sort out the bookings system. Sage had grand plans for an online database, although before she tackled that she had to clean out the filing cabinet, which was a daunting task.

  The show’s matinees were always full of excited kids, but the evening performances were a little more subdued. People looked unnerved to be in such a forgotten part of the city, and eyebrows were raised at the theatre’s threadbare carpets and flaky ceilings. Sage ripped tickets and made sure everyone found a seat. Once the show started, she hung around at the back of the auditorium, watching the performance and opening the door for anyone who needed to duck out to the toilet or answer a phone call. Herb was backstage, making sure the right props were set in the right places and that the curtains opened and closed, as well as operating the sound and lights from a little console.

  Once the show was over, she and Herb tidied up the theatre and reset the stage for the next night’s show, while Bianca got changed and Armand did … whatever it was that he did in his dressing-room.

  Disappointingly, there’d been no signs of any ghostly activity. Sage had her phone in her pocket everywhere she went, ready to take a photo if she heard or felt something spooky. She even took it out and took regular, random snaps that she could analyse later to see if anything showed up. She’d done some reading at home, and knew that to be a true paranormal investigator, she’d need a lot more equipment: thermal imaging devices, an electromagnetic field detector, digital audio recorders as well as a video camera. But she still hoped to have some success with an ordinary photo.

  ‘I’m going out to the bins,’ said Herb, hefting his black garbage bag full of empty cups and popcorn boxes. ‘Oh,’ he said, as he passed Bianca coming in. ‘Decided to grace us with your presence, did you?’

  ‘I had a splinter,’ said Bianca, holding up a bandaged finger. ‘From the vanishing cabinet.’

  ‘Poor baby.’

  Bianca pulled a chair onto the stage, and sat down, pulling out a needle and thread, a box of sequins, and her sparkly costume.