balcony. “Tonight, for the first time on the New York stage, you will be privileged to witness the Lady of the Lake performing the most dangerous of all feats of stage magic: the Bullet Catch. First things first. Ladies and gentlemen, Solitaires, Traders, and Sylvestri, may I have a volunteer from the audience?”
The man they’d planted in the audience volunteered enthusiastically. Fortunately, the crowd was lively, so there were other members of the audience clamoring to be chosen. Nutall brought him up to the stage, where Thalia opened the case with her father’s muzzle-loading rifle. Thalia showed the weapon to the audience with great panache. Shopping the prop, as her father had called displaying an item of equipment to best advantage onstage, had been Thalia’s specialty since she’d grown old enough to go onstage as her father’s assistant.
Nutall issued his next command to the volunteer. “Please take a moment to inspect this deadly missile. Do you agree that it is a musket ball of solid lead?”
The volunteer agreed it was. At Nutall’s bidding, he scratched his initials on the surface of the ball with Nutall’s own penknife.
Thalia then made the most of the gestures it took to load the rifle—fine black powder, carefully measured out before the performance ever began; then wadding; and finally the rifle ball—then a pantomime of tamping it all down gently with the rod from beneath the rifle barrel. Thalia pretended to present the loaded rifle to their volunteer, but Nutall intervened.
“You have inspected this rifle, sir. You stand witness that the ammunition is properly loaded down to the last grain of gunpowder?”
The volunteer agreed all was as it should be.
Thalia glided across the stage to take her place on a wooden pedestal. She stepped up and struck a queenly pose, holding the enamel cup out in her most regal manner.
“It is my honor to be the man to pull the trigger,” Nutall announced. “Solitaires, Traders, and Sylvestri, prepare to witness a living wonder of the modern world. The Lady of the Lake will use her great powers to capture the rifle ball before it can pierce her breast. Her powers are great, but even the greatest stage magician can suffer a mishap.” In an aside, Nutall added, “If you have children with you, I suggest you cover their eyes.”
Thalia held her cup high.
Nutall called, “My lady, are you ready?”
Thalia, mindful of the circlet she wore, inclined her head only slightly as she nodded her consent.
Nutall commanded the pit orchestra. “Drumroll, please!”
The pit orchestra gave him his cue, a snare drumroll worthy of a firing squad.
Nutall leveled the rifle at Thalia’s breast and paused, as if to savor the moment. He took careful aim at the cup in her hands. In his top hat and evening clothes, his shoe-button-black eyes somehow appeared closer set than usual. He was the very picture of a noble English gentleman, entitled to shoot beauty in any form, whether it wore fur, feathers, or a frock.
The sleight of hand was over. Thalia already held the volunteer’s leaden rifle ball, the one marked with his initials. She had switched it for a duplicate when loading the rifle, palming the scratched original out of sight until it was time for it to reappear when she caught it in her cup.
Now, with nothing more than the force of her personality, Thalia would convince a theaterful of people that they could not trust their own eyes. She took a deep breath of sheer, delighted anticipation. This was the real magic. Traders might Trade. Sylvestri might work wonders with a forest. But no one but a stage magician could show people what it looks like to violate the laws of physics.
Thalia could smell the excitement of the audience. She knew what that meant. The stirring sight of Thalia held at gunpoint, valiant and vulnerable, spoke to something dark inside the watchers. This might be the night the trick failed. This might be the night they saw a woman shot down before them.
Thalia kept her eyes on the muzzle of the rifle Nutall held. She didn’t have to look at Nutall. Her entire attention was focused on directing her audience.
The drumroll broke off as Nutall lowered the rifle. Intent on some imaginary flaw in the sight, he inspected the gun while the crowd stirred, speculation fanned hotter by the delay.
Of all the tricks in stage magic, the Bullet Catch was the most dangerous. There was always the chance someone in the audience might join in with a