twenty-four!” called the short, broad-chested man in glaring red from the other side of the table. Erasmus Rayne, the only person Daron might’ve disliked more than the mayor of Glorian. A showman to the core, the man beamed brighter than diamonds at the sight of Daron arriving as a judge. No questions asked, just praise, flattery, and the keys to one of the finest rooms in his traveling hotel. Anything to keep his youngest judge in his good graces.
But the rest of the men had made clear his voice was not welcome amongst theirs. Not that Daron cared to give it. The first few days of watching magicians audition had hurt more than he’d expected. His chest twinged, remembering what it was like stepping onto a new stage for the first time. Power sparking at your fingertips to deliver a trick, delight a crowd.
The pain was only fleeting. It didn’t take long to shove it away, sit back and observe, unimpressed. Some magicians possessed skill, but many more lacked it. And amongst the judges, more arguments arose than agreement over who deserved a place in Spectaculore. Most people with power were destined to be labor magicians, an honorable path to be sure, but rare were the ones meant for the stage. The glory of packed houses and endless applause.
The next contestant swaggered onto the stage in a starchy brown suit and a wide casual top hat. There was an air about him similar to the others, as if he had all the magic in the world at his fingertips. It wasn’t until he heard a second set of clicking steps that Daron realized why.
An assistant sauntered behind him in a gaudy rose-colored dress studded with sequins that caught the morning light beaming in from the windows. She was by far the most colorful figure in the room, no doubt freezing in her getup like the others who’d strutted in before her. Most candidates were accompanied by a charming assistant to wink and giggle at the audience. An accessory to the performance, and a scapegoat if anything went wrong.
Daron’s pulse stilled, his heart quiet. A sudden flash of mask sequins glinted like dark fires in his memory, but this girl wore no mask. His gaze drew to her face. Lovely, as they always were. The other judges thought the same from the way they stole peeks of the assistant’s legs stalking out from under the rosy pink feathers and tassels of her skirt.
Erasmus’s face lit up as the assistant and the magician made their way to the raised prop box in the center. “Welcome to the stage!” His voice boomed, at its most charming. “Acquired or born?”
“Pardon?”
“Your magic,” Erasmus clarified. “Is it acquired, or born?”
Daron waited, head tilted. The distinctions came right from the Patrons, as part of their mission to define the known from the unknown. Magic was an unpredictable element, both controlled yet volatile depending on the magician, and his aunt and her team did their best to monitor its dangers and anomalies, to ensure no magician abused their power on anybody or anything throughout Soltair.
Aunt Cata would likely have words about this entire competition. Magic and show business are dangerous enough games alone, she’d tsk whenever the Patrons were called in to shut down a few stage events in New Crown for spiraling out of control. So far Daron had seen no cause for alarm in Glorian. The magicians who’d auditioned had all claimed acquired magic, displaying mostly tame tricks and boasting how the prestigious Valmont Brothers Academy had groomed them. Their powers were not inherently in their blood, but pulled from the air. Unlike born magic: raw natural talent within.
Daron raised his brow as the magician looked nervously at his assistant, who shrugged. Both of them, clueless.
“I … uh,” the man on stage stuttered. “Acquired?”
If he’d said born, Daron would’ve been the first to chew him out. Of the entire judges’ row, he was the only born magician among them. The trait skipped generations in families, so rare that when he and Eva were born, it was something of a city-wide celebration. Born magicians, amongst the Patrons again! Probably the only reason his first audiences were drawn to his shows when he was still so fresh to the stage, fascinated by what a servant of a Great could pull off.
Even Erasmus appeared dubious, but continued. “As you see, we’ve provided a prop. Simple, no tricks to it. At least, until you’re done with it.”