“For my next trick, I’ll need a volunteer.”
Erika snorted. She had come along with her granddaughter in the vain hope that it would keep her entertained, but the little girl wasn’t having this nonsense either. She was proud of her for not being taken in. When charming gentlemen spoke this well, it was easy to let yourself listen. At least she didn’t take after her mother that way.
“You there, madam. Come on up here.”
The little devil was smiling at her now. His unsure grin belied his confident persona. He needed dental work, and he wasn’t as handsome or fit as a proper showman ought to be. He seemed startled when she heeded his command. Erika smiled, curtseying. It didn’t have the same effect now, when she was nearing 70 and dressed in pants, but the magician blushed all the same.
“Well, yes. Now if you would take this deck-”
Erika took the deck, shuffling it. The cards danced through the air as she gestured. It was like playing the piano. Erika’s talent had grown as she learned to use her fingers for delicate work. Knitting, sewing, and piano kept her deft. It was convenient that her family thought she was good for little else. The audience clapped at the display. Had quirks become that prosaic? She missed the days of secret institutes hidden deep in the mountains. It was something special, to share a secret like that with a select few. Erika wondered how many might be in the library with them.
“Wonderful, wonderful. Draw a card. Memorize it, please. Commit every detail to memory.”
Erika did. Playing cards disappointed those who were looking for details. They were too minimalistic. She kept the card longer than necessary. She thought it heightened the sense of drama, and she wasn’t going to be the one who made this show fall flat. She would leave that up to the boy on stage with her. She placed the card back into the deck, and pushed it through the air to the magician. His eyes were tightly shut to maintain the illusion. As if anyone cared about stage magic when quirks existed.
“Thank you, that was wonderful. Now, I, the Illuminating Mythmaker, will find your card.”
The magician placed a hand on the deck. Smiling, still with eyes closed shut, he drew the first card.
Instantly, Erika felt the sand in her toes. Warm from the sun and wet from the surf, it tickled a childish part of herself that she preferred not to indulge. Her daughter went to the beach every summer, but they never invited Erika. No one wanted grandma on those excursions. It wouldn’t be right to ask, either, and besides, she was busy. Days like this, with Katrina, those were special enough. Still, her toes curled up as she thought about years gone by.
They were back in the library, but only for a moment. The next card brought another vision, this time of a small room. It was full of cigar smoke and the sound of poker chips hitting the table. There was nothing familiar or nostalgic here, but Erika laughed as she realized. No wonder the magician had so much confidence in his act. He cheated. Before she even thought of examining the scene, they were back, and then gone again.
Each card changed the scenery, but Erika watched the performance. The magician furrowed his brow whenever he drew another card. This took more focus than her tricks. Was it just because he was young? He couldn’t be older than twenty five. Maybe his quirk worked differently. She had only met six others like her, and that had been decades ago. If she ever listened to Becca, she might have met more. It was a part of herself she still had time to explore. By the time he asked, Erika had stopped watching the kaleidoscopic room, and only looked at him.
“Is this your card?”
He held it out, grinning like a costumed kid on Halloween. He wanted a treat, or a trophy, and Erika didn’t have either.
“You got it,” she said dryly. The crowd didn’t care. They ate it right up. There was nearly a standing ovation, bar one or two senior citizens. Erika clapped politely. No need to stick out just because she didn’t like magic. Besides, Katrina was smiling more than she had all morning. Anything that made her granddaughter happy was worth putting up with.
The magician bowed, and the crowd dispersed. Erika returned to Katrina, sweeping her up in her arms. As long as she was still small enough to pick up, Erika was going to enjoy it. She carried her over to the stacks. She had only let her watch the show on a whim; they had come here to pick up new books for her to read. She was quickly moving up in reading level, and it was important to give her fresh material. Erika cared more about her granddaughter’s literacy than the child’s mother did, unfortunately. She had always tried her best with her, but children made their own decisions after a time.
It was as Katrina sat with one of those young adult novels about revolutions that Erika noticed the magician. He stood at a nearby bookshelf, pretending not to watch her. Erika raised an eyebrow at him. He bashfully turned away, feet unmoved by her judgement. What did he want now? Was he one of those quirk fans? Scaring them off was a full-time job sometimes. She marched over to him. Shrinking away from her, he placed the book he’d been holding on the shelf and began pumping his skinny legs to get away.
“I hope you’ve got a really good reason for this. Staring is rude, and stalking is illegal.”
Erika waited for an apology, or an escape attempt. Either would do, as long as he stayed away from them.
“I’m sorry for doing it this way- I just needed to make sure you wouldn’t tell.”
“I don’t have all day. Explain yourself in a way that I can actually understand.”
“I’m not licensed.”
“Is that all? Well, I won’t tell on you. Happy?”
The magician blinked, mouth agape. It was charmingly boyish on him. Erika revised her estimate on his popularity with the ladies.
“I thought you were- that was an impressive display if you’re not a quirk.”
She laughed.
“Of course I’m a quirk, dear. What does that have to do with me turning you in?”
“I’m unlicensed,” he repeated, more slowly, like she was a dumb animal. Maybe she would turn him in after all.
“I’m not with the licensing board. What do I care? Honestly, what bothers me is all this skulking around. It’s rude.”
The magician’s eyes flitted around the room nervously. If this was how he acted, no wonder he was worried about getting caught. The agency could sniff out guilt, and his stunk to high heaven.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll stay out of your way. Charmed to meet you.”
He doffed his top hat at her, and walked away. Erika watched him go. Before she’d fully committed to it, Erika ran towards him. She tapped him on the shoulder, and when he turned to her, she held out her hand. Reluctantly, he shook it.
“My name is Erika. You haven’t given me yours yet.”
“The Illuminating Mythmaker,” he ventured. Erika raised an eyebrow.
“Mithril Winter,” he sighed.
“Your parents didn’t think very far ahead. Good on you for adopting a stage name.”
“It seemed like the thing to do. ‘Mithril’ wasn’t a big hit, growing up.”
Erika nodded knowingly. She had considered, more than once, spelling her name differently, but bending to the will of other people wasn’t her style- hadn’t been, since she was young. Public opinion was worth less than public opinion held it to be.
“Nice meeting you, Mythmaker. Same time next week?”
He cracked a smile. She was beginning to appreciate it. Someone his age ought to smile more often.
“Same time next week.”