The Bone Puzzle

by Clayton E. Spriggs

  Laura looked at the audience, then at the magician with a perplexed look on her face. She turned to the audience, and back to Richard once more, but remained silent.

  “What’s the matter?” Richard asked, “Cat got your tongue?”

  “Neeeiiiigghh!”

  The crowd laughed again at her antics.

  “That’s a horse,” said Richard.

  Laura opened her mouth, as if trying to force the words, but nothing came out. She tried again with more effort, rocking back and forth, but only garbled mumbles came forth. The girl looked at the magician in dismay. A determined expression appeared on her angelic face. She bent over and heaved as if she were going to vomit on the stage. Richard reached out and patted her back with one hand while putting his other hand in front of the girl’s mouth to catch any foul contents that might spill out if she violently retched. As the cymbals crashed in the orchestra pit, Laura slowly stood up and extended one arm toward the magician, who now held a kitten in his previously empty hand.

  “Meow,” the feline cried. Richard handed it to Laura, who took the kitten and stroked it gently. She took several small bows, then headed off stage with the cat.

  After a couple of steps, the magician called for her to stop. “Natalia,” he said sternly, “is that all you have to say to the fine people of Nashville?”

  She glanced at the magician, and back at the audience. She smiled broadly and shouted, “Yee haw!”

  The patrons returned her cowboy yell and awarded her with another round of applause. She curtseyed slightly and hurriedly disappeared into the wings as Richard took a bow.

  “Bulls and horses and kittens,” he said, “are wonderful creatures that grace this world. But of the beasts that crawl and swim, run, gallop, hop, and, dare I say it, even walk upright on two legs,” Richard said, then paused to glance around the room. He pretended to make eye contact with several audience members even though the spotlights made that impossible, and continued, “have nothing on the blessed creatures that the Lord has granted the gift of flight.” Richard threw the cape he’d kept casually draped over his arm into the air. As it fell to the stage in front of him, a dozen white doves appeared from the magic garment and soared above the crowd. One by one, they flew into the shadows off stage, leaving the magician standing alone, his cape now lying flat on the floor at his feet.

  “Cape’s are overrated,” he said as he held his hand above the cloth, palm down, and said the magic words. “Alacazam! Cain and Abel! Lose the cape, find a table!” The garment ascended from the floor as if pulled by an invisible force from the magician’s outstretched hand. As it reached a level slightly above Richard’s waist, it stopped. The cape had become a tablecloth draping an unseen table.

  Gasps drifted up to Richard’s ear from the packed theater. He’d made them laugh; he’d made them cheer; he’d entertained them with simple illusions and witty banter. Now he’d begun to amaze them. The magician’s face held its stoic expression, with the exception of his eyes, which burned bright with a supernatural glow. Inwardly, he smiled because he knew. They ain’t seen nothin’ yet.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Leaning forward, Richard examined the table-like object in front of him, exaggerating his moves. He ran his hands around the edges and tapped on the top with his knuckles. Tap, tap, tap, he knocked as if expecting a reply.

  “Who’s there?” a voice shouted from the audience.

  Richard smiled and nodded. “We have that joke in the old country, too,” he said. “Allah,” he replied.

  “Allah, who?” more voices shouted from the crowd.

  “Alacazam!” Richard exclaimed and abruptly pulled the cape away. The space was empty. Oohs and aahs drifted up from the audience. “I’m afraid the joke’s on me. I needed that table.” The crowd laughed.

  “I guess we’ll have to do this the old fashioned way,” the magician stated. “I don’t know how things work in your country, but where I come from, if you want something done–"

  “You have to do it yourself,” someone shouted.

  “Oh, yes, yes, I see.” Richard laughed. “No, things are much different in the old country. We keep our tables in the kitchen and, in the kitchen, if you want something done right, you ask the woman of the house. But you’d better make sure you ask her kindly and with gratitude if you know what’s good for you.”

  More laughter drifted up from the crowd. Richard was beginning to think he should ditch the magic tricks and focus on being a comedian.

  “My dear, sweet Natalia, princess of the gypsies.” Richard paused to smile and wink at the audience. “Would you be so kind as to bring me a table, at your leisure, of course?”

  This time Lacey entered the stage, dressed identical to her sister. Richard knew that it was better to rotate the twins as much as possible. That way, what small differences they might exhibit would be harder to pick up on by others. She trotted up to Richard, handed him what appeared to be a business card, and tugged on his shoulder. Richard stooped over to let Lacey whisper in his ear. His expression went from confusion to surprise to understanding. He eventually nodded, patted his assistant on the back, and watched as she smiled at the audience and skipped off the stage. The magician read the card in his hand and turned it over a few times before addressing the crowd.

  “It seems my table is on backorder,” he explained. “The salesman at the furniture store was kind enough to give me his card and apologize for any inconvenience this might cause.” He paused to give the audience time to laugh again. “He even wrote a personal note on the back,” Richard continued, pretending to read what was written on the business card. “It says here that he personally expedited the order and that it should arrive at any minute now. Should we wait?”

  He looked at the crowd. A unanimous ‘No!’ was the answer to his question.

  “But he promised it would arrive momentarily,” pleaded the magician.

  More shouts of ’No!’ came booming from the audience.

  “Perhaps you are right,” Richard agreed. “I’ll just dispose of this card,” he said. He began to tear the paper in half, but instead of it tearing, it unfolded, then, unfolded again. The magician looked stunned and gaped at the crowd as if to say ‘Did you see that?’ He unfolded the paper again and again. As it grew in size, he pretended to struggle with the complexity and resistance that the object presented. Laura, returning to her role as Natalia, ran onto the stage to lend a hand. The two unfolded and turned, turned and unfolded the paper, stopping at times to discuss their progress and give each other instructions. Minutes later, they grabbed opposite ends of the contraption, stepped back, and let go. A wooden table fell onto the stage between them, the sound of the hard wood reverberating throughout the theater. The crowd exploded in applause.

  “It appears the salesman was right,” said Richard. He took a bow, and nodded to his assistant to take a bow. When the applause dissipated, he reached for Laura’s hand and continued, “Many of you don’t know this, but my lovely assistant here is a renowned fortune teller. I can personally attest to her skill. But don’t take my word for it. I will let her demonstrate her power for you so that you may see for yourselves. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Natalia the Gypsy Princess!”

  Richard took a step back, waving in Laura’s direction as she curtsied. She took her place behind the table and looked around. Motioning for the magician to come closer, she whispered in his ear again.

  “A chair?” Richard asked. He glanced around, but there was nothing on the stage. Addressing the audience, he said, “It seems we have forgotten to provide a chair, and it is standing room only tonight.” Cheers from the packed theater. “If only we had a business card Natalia could sit on,” he mused, more laughter followed. “I guess we’ll just have to make do,” Richard said. He unfurled his cape, held it at his side, shook it, then pulled it away in a grand gesture, leaving a chair on the stage where none had stood before.

  Natalia smiled and sat down. Motioning once again for the magicia
n’s attention, she whispered in his ear.

  “I see. Now, that is a quandary,” Richard said and addressed the crowd. “Does anyone here have a crystal ball by chance?” He paused and asked again, “Anyone?”

  When no one came forward with the prized item, the magician and the gypsy fell into a long discussion – not heard, of course, by the audience. Several of the musicians played intermission music in jest as the two appeared to argue. The girl pointed to the ruby on the magician’s turban; he emphatically shook his head no. She insisted, and he refused again, turning his back on her and folding his arms. The girl feigned tears and wiped at her eyes despondently. Richard glanced back, saw his assistant in distress, and hung his head in defeat.

  “Once again, I’m afraid I must confess our cultural differences,” Richard said to the audience. “I’m sure, in America, where the men are strong and brave, once a man puts his foot down, there is no further discussion. Unfortunately, where I come from, that is not always the case. Oh, don’t get me wrong. We try, but our women have a secret weapon that renders us helpless.” The audience laughed. “The truth be told, they have more than one,” he added and winked. The crowd howled in delight and applauded.

  Richard looked over at the forlorn gypsy girl and relented. He unpinned the ruby from his turban and placed it on the table. Laura glanced at the jewel and back at the magician.

  “What?” he asked. She stared at him without a word, raising one eyebrow.

  “Apparently, it’s not big enough,” Richard said to the audience and shrugged his shoulders. “That’s not the first time I’ve heard that.” More cheers and laughter greeted him.

  Richard turned to the audience and told another story. “When I traveled through the ancient and mysterious lands of the Orient, I came upon a most wondrous sight.” A small spotlight lit up an object on the left at the back of the stage. Seated on a fanciful throne of pillows was an elderly Asian woman in full kabuki makeup. On both sides of her sat two statues of fearsome dragons, backlit with purple lighting, their eyes glowing with red lights, and smoke drifting out of their mouths. The woman plucked at the koto on her lap, its exotic melody echoing around the now silent theater.

  “I was walking down a dirt road in the middle of a Japanese village when I saw a blind beggar in the distance, sitting beside a ditch,” Richard continued. “I stopped and watched the man, and, more importantly, I observed the hundreds of people who passed by without seeing him. At that very moment, as if the man could read my mind, he shouted at me—in my native tongue, no less. I was astounded. How did this blind beggar even know I was there? I drew close to ask him. Yet again, he was ahead of me. ‘I knew you were there because I felt your eyes upon me’ he said. Before I could say anything in return, he added, ‘I can feel the eyes of others’. I said one word— ironic. He did not find it amusing.”

  The theater was silent with the exception of the haunting melody. “He conceded that his eyes could not see as other’s see, but he had a gift. I did not understand because I couldn’t. The old man laughed and explained. He said that, although his eyes could not see, he could see with the eyes of others, while they were only able to look. He explained that it was looking that rendered the eyes useless, for it blinded the person from understanding the truth. What could I say? The old man was right.”

  Richard looked over the crowd with a mournful expression before finishing his story. “Not a day goes by that I do not think about the old man’s warning. I’m not here to lecture you fine people. I’m sure your shortcomings are not as great as mine. But I do know a thing or two about illusions.”

  Richard pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and dropped it on the table, covering up the small ruby. He held the cloth down at the edges and said, “The size of a jewel does not define its worth. This is true of any object. An object of use should be valued above an object of vanity, but we deem it not so. What does that say about us? A shovel has more use than a diamond.” Richard’s hands trembled, shaking the table. “What we value defines us, not the object. The size of one’s heart is where I place my treasure. If you care to see the future, ask the gypsy girl. But I warn you. You may not see what you want to see.”

  The handkerchief grew as if it were a balloon being inflated with helium. “Abracadabra! Is this what you’re after?” he exclaimed, pulling the rag away to reveal a giant crystal ball sitting on a pedestal in the center of the table. The crowd cheered as Richard finished his warning. “Remember not only to look, but most importantly, to see.”

  The audience rose to its feet and applauded. Richard bowed and added, “I am the Amazing and Magnificent Villanova!”

  He slowly backed away and exited the stage. The crowd settled down and took their seats. The houselights dimmed. Only a small spotlight remained on the gypsy girl in the center of the stage. It was Laura’s turn to shine.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Natalia sat motionless as the theater grew silent. All eyes were on the gypsy girl sitting behind the crystal ball. Laura’s eyes were closed. She swayed back and forth, almost imperceptibly. Her hands went into motion around the glass ball on the table, as if polishing an unseen barrier inches from the surface of the smooth object.

  “Simi zooso ruishuisu laperedi moe,” she chanted with a strange accent. “Moelentojia ramucassa cassenoveni zito bellarumeo.” Laura hummed an odd tune, interrupted occasionally by more chants in the bizarre pretend language. A silhouette of a horse-drawn wagon appeared on the curtain in the background as if the sun were rising behind a gypsy encampment in Eastern Europe. The shadow of a Hungarian violinist materialized in the scene, accompanied by a poignant melody.

  Tension grew as Laura’s voice swelled, and her movements quickened. Unseen drummers beat on doumbek gypsy drums, and the tempo of the violin music increased.

  “Ammano charo tini wesbroo cambraisi mahoo!” the girl sang, her hands flying into the air, her face pointing upward.

  The lights flicked off as the music and chanting stopped. Slowly, a backlight appeared behind Laura, a pale, blue spotlight bringing her shadowy figure into view. Her eyes stared in wide open intensity at the orb in front of her. The glass itself swirled with a smoky radiance from within.

  A familiar object became visible in the cloudy glass of the crystal ball. It was the face of Villanova.

  “Sheebarisu nanna jarikito,” mumbled Laura.

  “The gypsy sees all,” the magician’s disembodied head announced from inside the orb. His voice seemed to come from every direction, echoing off the walls of the auditorium. Members of the audience, jarred by the extraordinary effect, gasped audibly.

  Laura mumbled a few more lines of bogus dialogue, and once again, the face inside of the crystal ball interpreted for her. “Dark clouds are on the horizon.”

  The girl spoke again and again, pausing each time for the magician to interpret. “Winter comes, but not as before. The darkest days are behind us. The cold will not be as bitter. Spring comes again, and with it, life. With life, comes hope.” The magician relayed the cryptic messages. “Avoid hastiness; relish the company of friends. Be wary of flattery; truth should guide you in your endeavors.” Richard and the girls collected daily horoscopes, and they peppered the routine with some of the better ones whenever possible.

  “No!” the magician’s head shouted from inside the orb. “You must not!” His voice boomed throughout the theater.

  The gypsy girl stopped speaking. She put her hands on the globe and shrieked. Thunder and lightning appeared in the crystal ball as the magician’s head spun in circles. A tornado twisted inside of the glass. The sound of thunder erupted in the theater. Strobes of light erupted as smoke poured onto the stage. A cacophony of howling wind and rainfall crackled from hidden speakers that Richard had placed in the shadowy corners of the room.

  The storm raged beyond control. A sudden burst of wind blew onto the audience, courtesy of several large fans hidden in the rafters. Cymbals crashed from the orchestra pit. A near panic swept throu
gh the crowd before everything halted in an instant.

  “Stop!” the magician commanded. He now stood alone in the center of the stage. There was no sign of the crystal ball, the table, or the gypsy girl.

  The audience warily settled back in their seats, apprehensive after the horrendous sights and sounds they had just witnessed.

  “My apologies to all,” said the magician. “That was unexpected. Please, allow me to explain. Natalia is a gypsy who strives to use her power for good. In her rituals, she is wont to contact the spirits of the netherworld. Usually, this poses no threat. But occasionally, bad spirits try to use her as a conduit to enter our realm. What we experienced was one such occurrence, but I am certain that I intervened in time to stop it.”

  Richard could sense that the crowd was less than convinced, just as he’d planned. They were anxious and nervous, many believing that otherworldly forces were now at play. He had them right where he wanted them. Now all he had to do was reel them in.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  A shadow in the shape of the Taj Mahal surrounded by palm trees appeared on the curtain at the back of the stage. The Indian flute player, dressed in white robes and a turban, sat cross-legged on the floor. He blew into his pungi, the exotic notes floated in the air.

  “In my youth, I traveled across the world in search of truth and the unknown, and I found both on the subcontinent of India,” said the magician. “Many things of beauty were there for my eyes to behold. And some things of terror.”