Nightingale's Strain Book Two of the Nightingale's Odyssey

by Shadowcrest Nightingale

1891, On the verge of opening the pinnacle of the arts, Carnegie's grand Music Hall, the hidden genius behind the project is swept up in a tidal wave from his past. Ten years was not enough to bury Erik's obsession. The famed Music Hall's grand opening holds a secret drama wrought with deception, passion, and murder. And danger to Erik. Historical Fiction based on Leroux/Kay.

10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Like a specter, I had entered the hall, listening as Damrosch gave the Symphony Society their final instructions before rehearsal began. Lingering on the highest wall of the full balcony, I recognized the first chords immediately. None other than Vivaldi's Le Quattro Stagioni. Oh what a mockery fate had in store for me this afternoon. The more discerning musicians identify that he had written this as part of his grand work, Contrast Between Harmony and Invention. With the discordant current flowing through my life, I found Damrosch's musical choice thematically a little ironic. Though who would have been privy to that affair, save myself. This was not part of the program. But the piece held such variations that it was being used to test the acoustics of the hall.

As the musical strains of the first allegro movement from La Primavera danced in the air it created the fresh and vibrant images of sunshine dappling through the buds erupting along stream banks. I quietly strode along drawing my fingers over the backs of the red velvet chairs. If I closed my eyes, I swore I stood upon the stage with them instead of wandering on the top level in the back. They progressed to the largo movement. The long drawn out notes were as peaceful as the spring nights when the world was still in rebirth. Every nuance of the strings reached my ears, each subtle musical hue painted by their bows as Damrosch kept the pulse steady until the final allegro movement, when daylight seemed to dawn once more and the world burst into spring's abundant glory. The trilling ascents and descents continued to embrace me, following me wherever I roamed.

Climbing down to the dress circle, I was accompanied by the shift from E major to the G minor measures of L'Estate, the first allegro non molto movement punctuated by rapid shifts from tense drawn out chords to swift cascades. It mimicked the tides of summer where the weather shifts from stagnant heat to torrential downpour in the blink of an eye. Lurking among the shadows of the balcony, I worked my way from the center to each side, my ears searching for each note, each loving stroke of each bow. And I heard it all directed to me as though I were there with them. When the second adagio e piano movement began with its somber dignity, I swayed with the gentle rhythm until at last the final presto movement with the relentless drive of a summer storm rent the air asunder. The frantic flights of the violins hung in the air about me, a tornado of music blowing across the hall to assault the senses with the fury of nature. Each and every note carried flawlessly, every one Vivaldi had painstakingly written.

On the second tier, my feet carried me along to the dancing of the allegro movement of L'autunno. I envisioned the cascade of leaves as they shifted colors from the stately green of summer to the deep russets and yellows of autumn. F major, such a masterfully stately key to write in when capturing the majesty of nature. Once more I strained to assess if each note I knew should be there was in fact audible. The balance remained exquisite. Nothing was altered by my silent movement around the hall. Even the incredibly pianissimo moments carried with pristine clarity, which covered the entire adagio molto movement in the middle of the piece. Each gentle plucked note accompanied by the hushed tones of the violins whispered over the quiet hall like moonlight cast over the barren trees of late autumn before the winter winds would strike. I smiled as I dropped down to the first tier to stroll among the open boxes for the final allegro movement where the stately measures once again hung in the air. Every playful draw of each bow blended masterfully, resounding off the walls without being diminished. Absolutely perfect. Every single raised seat in the hall would experience the same auditory banquet unabated. That had been my intention.

Reaching the parquet for the final L'inverno I was greeted with the yearning tones of F Minor that built into the driving sheets of sleet and snow of early winter. The allegro non molto played with the senses, toying with the beauty of the world and the urgency to move out of it to shelter. The high trilling of the violins built to their frenzy of flying snowflakes and blustery winds. Shifting along the seats on the floor, I found my hand directing the drawn out movements of the largo. Like the shimmer of the sun on a field of crisp snow, the notes reflected a sweet beauty. Tenuous and ephemeral, but real. I sat down in the middle of the auditorium, my eyes closing as I brought my hand up to embrace an imaginary violin and bow. My hands had minds of their own as they produced the motions that would have drawn out the chords of the final allegro movement. Each sublime trill of the chill of the depth of winter dancing in the air. Each delicate stroke to produce the staccato of the bridge. I was rocking with the rhythm, moved by the force of the final dynamic segment of this masterful work, whipped up into the frenzied flurry of the winter winds to the final chord. Pulling the imaginary bow back I opened my eyes to find I was no longer alone, Carnegie stood three seats to my right with a broad smile on his face.

He closed the gap between us and sat down while Damrosch spoke to the symphony. Carnegie said nothing to me as I lowered my imaginary violin and sat back slowly.

"We have done it." I crossed my arms over my chest. "It truly is the perfect amplification chamber. Not a single patron will experience anything less than auditory perfection in this hall."

Carnegie's smile broadened. "Now, there is the man I met two years ago who stood before me and swore to me I could not possibly achieve this dream without him. I do not know how you did it so swiftly, Erik, but it is reassuring to see you again."

If he thought it was over, he was incredibly wrong. This state was only temporary. A product largely of the music. I glanced around the hall, looking to her lofty ceiling gilt with golden moldings. She was beautiful, a kingdom for music. Slowly, I nodded. "It wasn't easy to face what I had to, but for this hall … this dream, I swallowed my pride more deeply than I ever knew I was capable. Carnegie, I swear to you that what you saw shall never again happen. I will not compromise this dream. Death would surely come before that."

"Forbid it." He emitted a little laugh. "You are always so serious."

I gave a slight shrug. "About music, always. It is what drives me, moves me, it is my very life blood. Without it … I simply cannot imagine being without it. My life would become immaterial."

He shook his head. "Obsession is the word, I believe. And it is those very people who create the greatest wonders this world has to offer. Visionaries. You are the heart of this hall, Erik. Don't let anyone ever tell you differently."

I had no words to reply. What would Damrosch say? It had been his father's idea to build the hall, his inherited duty to bring substance to the vision. And Tuthill, he was officially the chief architect. Who was I to be deemed of such importance?

"Let me tell you something." He continued, "Walter came to me with the idea of the hall and I knew only that I had substantial money and quite enjoyed music. I knew great musicianship when I heard it, but not why it was great. When I see you standing there, moved by the currents that I can only barely sense, I am all the more aware how lacking I am in the full experience that music is, the true art. Beside me now sits a man who lives and breathes with the fabric of an art form I only wish I could fathom. You hold the greatest passion of all of us. Even combined we do not come even close to touching the heights of your appreciation of the arts. I did not always see that as clearly as I do now. Only Damrosch sensed it from the first time you two met."

I cocked my head to the side, intrigued.

Carnegie laughed at my expense. "You forgot that meeting, didn't you. Your fingers never stopped moving. I could not discern what it was that you were doing on the edge of the table. It was Damrosch who studied your movements and picked out the piano chords of Handel's Messiah."

Casting my thoughts back to that first meeting, I recalled how the young man had been so silent and appeared to be brooding. All that time he was reading the chords of an imaginary instrument I had made out of the edge of the table.

"He was completely astonished, having gone home to pull out the score to sit down and assure himself he had witnessed what he assumed he had." Carnegie nodded. "The next morning he came to me, bewildered at having seen a man play the entire piece absentmindedly while discussing the building of the new hall. He assured me he had no doubts that such a man who held unbound passion would easily sustain the rigors of the birthing that these projects entail."

I should have been amused, however it did not sit well with me that I had failed to note what my hands had been doing some years ago. Increasingly I was becoming aware of their many betrayals of my inner world.

"Walter was right. And the proof is all around us now. Tangible." He smiled as he leaned back. "The opening gala is swiftly approaching and I am in awe at the reality of this once lofty vision brought to earth by mere mortals."

Damrosch leapt down from the stage as the Symphony Society departed. With hasty strides he came up the right aisle towards us, his baton still in hand. He was sweating from the rehearsal, visibly eager to hear about the acoustics. "Well?" He called out two rows from us, still closing the distance. "How did it sound?"

I spread my arms wide to embrace the whole of the hall. "Absolute perfection. Every note hangs true in the air regardless of where the ear is residing. From the most timid of the pianissimo to the grandest forte the experience will be sheer ecstasy."

He was breathless from the long walk. "Any adjustments to where they sit? The order? Placement? Depth on the stage?"

I shook my head, leaning back. "Not a one, Damrosch. The entire Le Quattro Stagioni was absolutely exquisite. Tis a shame only we were privy to it. I rejoice in the fact that you are blessed with an extraordinary collection of musicians. I, on the other hand, have been struggling with the soloists. Some of which I daresay we may have to strike from the billing. How did rehearsals fair without me yesterday and today?" Rubbing my neck with a hand I was truly curious.

"There were none." Damrosch replied, leaning against the back of the chair. He began to tap the baton in some secret rhythm. No wonder he recognized my preoccupation. The man had the same current through him!

"Why?" I glanced up in annoyance. "It would be completely essential if they are to be ready on time."

Damrosch waved the baton dismissively. "It would be a little difficult for them to rehearse with their heads in bowls. Nearly the entire lot was ill."

Carnegie shrugged with a sigh. "I concurred with Tuthill's conclusion, I believe it to be something they all ate."

Frowning, I drummed my fingers on the back of the chair. "Spoiled lot, all of them. They would not be able to overcome a sneeze should it occur in the wings before a stage call. Rehearsals commence tomorrow regardless of how they are feeling. They attend or do not perform. Carnegie, Damrosch, I respectfully request the final word on who shall make the final billing. There are some who are entirely unworthy. They shall have two more rehearsals to prove to me their ability, or else."

The two glanced at each other and nodded before Carnegie extended his hand towards me. "Granted. I expect that list at the end of the rehearsal as well as your piece."

In the middle of shaking his hand to seal the deal, I cursed aloud fortunately in a language he didn't know, I had forgotten I was to be selecting something for myself.

"Vivaldi is chosen." He chuckled knowingly. "As well as Beethoven. You really should make it one of your works."

Sighing, I looked to the ceiling, muttering above my breath, "If I can adapt one in time."

"Adapt one?" Damrosch flicked the baton. "Why would it need adapting?"

"Most of what I have written was meant for operas." I scratched the back of my neck. "Requiring multiple singers there is not enough time to teach the parts. I would have to find something instrumental that is … presentable."

"You won't be singing?" Carnegie asked disappointed.

Flicking a piece of red velvet fiber from my trousers, I bought a little time. "Only if I can find the right piece. Trust me, there is some music I have written that no human ever should have considered touching." Blessedly, I had torn that particular unfinished manuscript to pieces and burned it in the Paris hearth. I never wanted to feel the emotions embodied by that work again, ever! No one should.

"Well, Gentlemen." Carnegie stood up. "I must go find William. We should be on our way."

"Where?" I glanced up, sensing I had been left out of some moment until I noted Damrosch seemed equally perplexed.

"Dinner, you all are to be my guests tonight." He placed a hand on our shoulders. "A long overdue celebration of how close we are to achieving our dream."

I stuttered half a dozen beginnings to protests before he silenced me.

"I will not be refused. I know you don't have any prior engagements." His eyes shined as he looked around the hall. "Get your cloaks, gentlemen. Our carriage awaits outside. We shall toast the heart of this hall." The gaze settled upon me and I was forced to look away, towards the stage.

He drifted off down the aisle singing a Scottish drinking song a little off key. Damrosch and I locked gazes, clearly thinking the same thing, though neither of us would be so cruel as to inform the man of his lack of pitch. Slowly I saw Damrosch begin to smile, a soft chuckle escaped him. Rising to my feet I had to laugh. "I suppose being able to sing on pitch is not a requirement to qualify for a patron of the arts."

"Indeed. We would find our audiences gravely small if it were." He flipped his baton, "Come on, Andrew will be wanting his scotch as soon as we arrive at his gentlemen's club. He gets cranky if he has to wait."

I could not help the amused smirk. "The man has never known true distress if waiting a few moments for scotch is his greatest annoyance."

He nodded. "You are correct, and some day I would love to know how you came to such a comparison."

We were striding side by side toward the back of the auditorium in pursuit of our cloaks. "Ever been to Persia? There are kings and queens there who have no concept of waiting for anything. Be in service for one of them over sufficient time and you shall see the grandest of displays a spoiled short temper can produce in humanity."

"I have not been to Persia. That sounds like a fascinating story." He opened the auditorium door and we stepped out into the lobby. "What were you doing in Persia?"

My hands came up, displaying empty air. With a flick of my wrist suddenly his baton suddenly appeared in my left hand. Astonished, he looked down to find it was in fact gone from his.

"Wha—wow!" His eyes studied me for moment. "How did you do that?"

I smiled and gave a little bow, handing it back to him. "I was a court magician for the shah of Persia. Illusions are a speciality. But as a rule, I do not share my secrets, so do not bother asking me to slow it down for you."

He was laughing at having been fooled. "Is there anything you cannot do, Erik?"

"Yes." I replied quietly, he may have been laughing. But I was not.

Grabbing our cloaks from the closet, he handed mine to me. "I would love to know what it is, because honestly, it appears you are capable of conquering anything you put your mind to."

I swung the cloak over my shoulders to conceal my flinching. "If you think I am some invincible genius you may be sorely disappointed. Every stone bears a weakness, some line of fracture or flaw. A master mason may be able to work around it, or hide it. But undoubtedly, that flaw is ever present."

Carnegie and Tuthill came around the corner. I could see the nervous glance my way from the latter who tried to cover it with a tentative smile. This was going to be a long evening, uncomfortable for the both of us.

"We're all here." Carnegie clapped his hands together. "Excellent, Gentlemen. To the carriage for our long overdue feast!"

As we filed out the door I noted that Tuthill would not proceed me, obviously preferring I was not at his back. It was subtle, but telling. Rather than fight this, I simply went ahead of him following Damrosch who was already engrossed in some bizarre conversation with Carnegie. I had to repair the damage my arrogant stroke with Ruescher had created earlier. I just hadn't figured out how yet. Though this was not the most urgent problem I had to solve. Somehow, I had to get through the multi-coursed dinner party without insulting Carnegie. I was not about to explain my inability to trust someone else preparing my drinks due to having nearly been poisoned by an adversary. Only because I had been paying attention to VanHollus's peculiar act of generosity did I evade the effects of the hidden rat poison in the offered glass. While no one could have been aware of where I was going this evening, as even Damrosch had been caught by surprise, I still had sufficient enough enemies in Manhattan who would not hesitate to secretly remove me from their list of blackmailers. Had I time, I would have run home and fetched a bottle from my cellar. I cast a dismaying glance at my door, just in sight as I climbed into the carriage, there was no graceful way to get out of this.

Sliding across the bench, to the other side I felt a curious weight in my left coat pocket. Discretely, I explored the contours with my fingers and discovered what it was. Great fortune! I recalled the last time I had worn this coat was at another dinner party I could not excuse myself from. The laying of the cornerstone had been followed by a full blown affair. Apparently, I had neglected to remove the small rack of vials, fully stocked with everything I required for just such an occasion. I could now survive the evening without arousing suspicions. Now, all I needed was a sealed bottle of wine.

Any chance of procuring one was swiftly denied as the carriage whisked us away down the streets. My fingers stirred in my pocket, gently finding the tactile markers I had placed on them. This only worked if no one was aware of what I was doing. If I had needed to see the vials, the illusion was a failure. The meaning of each intricately carved marker came back to me, I could do this.

"I hope everyone isn't too hungry." Carnegie leaned back with a smile. "I had them prepare a light dinner with only seven courses."

Twelve courses, why anyone figured such a gross overindulgence was necessary I would never know. Was it truly essential to consume meat from each order of edible animal at a single dinner? The aristocratic society seemed convinced it must be so. And refusing even one entree could be considered a slight to the host. Even the seven of the 'light dinner' was more than I typically consumed throughout an entire day. Nadir passed few opportunities to point out that distinction. The man simply loved to eat. I found it a waste of time that consumed useful hours of the day. Why sit in a chair by a hearth and drink tea when it can reside on a work bench to be sipped between adjustments.

"I trust there will be scotch." Damrosch ribbed Carnegie.

The Scotsman threw his head back, laughing. "How would you know, Walter? Too many nights on that voyage?"

"Too many nights in Scotland with you. And who would have thought the building we had been discussing would be standing this swiftly and awaiting her debut."

Beside me, Tuthill was quietly staring out the window, watching the streets pass us by. If any of us required a drink, it was him. He was stiff as a steel rod.

"I figured we had all been working hard these last weeks and it was beyond time for us to just enjoy a little relaxation for our pains."

Relaxation? Well, Carnegie, if that was your goal this wasn't precisely the best method, in my personal opinion.

I found him looking intently at me. "Erik needs to step away for a bit and savor the moment before our triumph."

"I would have preferred having the Music Hall to myself for that." I shrugged dryly, not intending to insult his generous gesture.

"I would swear you are determined to fuse yourself with the building." Carnegie's laughter filled the carriage.

Damrosch leaned back, eyeing me. "I suspect that we shall have a fine evening full of intriguing tales. Erik, I will not let you abandon us this eve until you have told us at least one tale from the courts of Persia."

This resulted in both Carnegie and Tuthill turning to my corner of the carriage.

Continuing, Damrosch tried to mimic the graceful flourish I had used to produce his baton earlier. "You cannot simply drop mention of having entertained the courts there and leave it at that. At least one story before the night is through."

I snuffed a dry laugh, folding my arms across my chest in challenge. "Need it be true?"

"Preferable, and perhaps a little demonstration is in order?" He was watching my hands even closer now, hoping to catch something.

I shook my head, unable to quell the laughter. "Careful what you ask for, Damrosch. A baton is one thing."

He smiled broadly. "What's the grandest object you have made disappear?" Now the other two were clearly completely lost by our conversation.

I closed my eyes as if in thought. I knew the answer to that, but did not want to confess. Christine Daae, of course, was my masterpiece. Well, it was better not to arouse suspicion. "The shah's favored cat from the middle of his throne room." That was impressive in its own right.

All three men were captivated, but it was Carnegie who continued. "While the shah was present?"

I nodded. "I kept her for several days, returning her before the absence was noticed."

They were all glancing at each other trying to deduce how a cat could have been stolen from a throne room. "But the object had never been missed, that's not so grand." Tuthill at last addressed me.

Shrugging, I turned my eyes to him offering him a cocky grin. "That is the greatest trick, procuring something without someone's knowledge and returning it before they even note its absence. Especially all within plain sight."

"If he had caught you … " Tuthill pressed.

"Oh, I surely would have been put to death." I waved a hand dismissively. "No one was permitted to touch the shah's cats."

"Why did you do it?" Carnegie leaned forward intently.

Shifting forward a little myself, I winked. "Just for the challenge of the task. And besides, another young boy had a more urgent need of the feline's affection. So I borrowed her on a whim. Since the shah never noticed, it surely demonstrated she was not as important as he was insisting."

Carnegie shook his head as the carriage rolled to a stop. "You're lying, Erik. No one would have done such a thing on a whim, risking one's neck for a cat."

I laughed, spreading my hands wide. "Believe what you wish, Gentlemen. But should you ever happen upon my friend Nadir Khan, please ask him about the visitor I borrowed from the court for his, then ailing, son. You may find I have no need of embroidery in the extravagant tales I have to tell."

"I simply do not believe it." We filed out of the carriage with Carnegie shaking his head while reaching for his vest pocket.

"Looking for this?" As I tossed Carnegie his pocket watch with a casual gesture, I smiled knowingly as his features grew a little whiter. "You should be more careful. Now, I believe Damrosch to be quite correct. This should prove to be an intriguing evening after all."

Damrosch gave an amused laugh. "I was even watching his hands and never saw him take it."

"I know." I leaned against the carriage door casually. "I told you I would never slow it down for you to perceive. Now, would you like yours back?" His hand flew up to his pocket, finding it empty. When he looked back to me I pointed to Tuthill. "He has it."

Tuthill's hand cautiously slid into his pocket and he slowly withdrew the pocket watch, his eyes wide with wonder. "How did you do that without us perceiving it? We were all sitting there the whole time."

I gave a little bow. "You do not get a personal invitation to the Middle-Eastern courts by being mediocre, Gentlemen."

Carnegie cleared his throat, still looking at his watch in shock. "Shall we proceed to dinner? I think I am dearly in need of my scotch now."

We entered the smoky halls of the gentlemen's club. Decorated in dark woods and deep tones of greens and blues, the heavy décor was a little confining compared to how spacious I preferred my settings since leaving the confines of the Paris Opera. We handed our cloaks over and they were whisked away as we were led deeper into the cramped club. My eyes roved everywhere in search of one thing. Servants scurried all over, sliding through the halls carrying trays laden with dishes and bottles of all sorts. Coming towards us, I spied it. The sealed bottle of a distinctive shape atop the tray I discerned was a Riesling. I could not see who bottled the straw colored wine, though it hardly mattered. A swift glance to be sure the wax seal had not been tampered with and I was certain of my prize.

The rug was loose beneath my foot. A simple shift produced a roll which the servant did not perceive in time. In a cascade of fine cuisine and china dishes accompanied by the shocked yelp from the young man, no one noticed the bottle of Riesling that was to be my salvation, vanish from the tray in mid-air into my inside pocket.

"My dear young man." I reached down to help him up. "You must be more careful, are you alright?"

He took my hand and stood up, staring at the array of fallen food and dishes shattered all over the floor. "Oh no! This is terrible! The chef—he will—" Other servants gathered around and swiftly began to try and clear the mess.

"My apologies, Gentlemen." The host of the club came to our party and shepherded us from the mess. "I assure you, all is ready for you Mr. Carnegie, in your usual space. I have my best staff on hand. Please, right this way." We entered into a private room with a table set for the four of us. I specifically chose the back corner, conveniently next to a wonderfully attractive potted tree. Settling down in the high backed dining chair, I prepared myself for a long night of deceptions.

The club's host clapped his hands together. "The first course shall be along momentarily, Gentlemen."

Under the table, I used the short concealed blade that was my constant companion to cut the wax seal on the bottle. We had hardly a moment to take in the room before the door opened and the servants bustled in. I utilized the sound of the double doors hitting the wall to cover the sound of uncorking the bottle. No one was watching me anyway, their eyes turned to the first dish to be served. Ah canapes and scotch. Should have been sherry wine. But this was Carnegie's personal flare.

As Damrosch and Carnegie discussed the color and body of the scotch in their glasses, I swiftly disposed of mine in the nearby potted plant, replacing the liquid in the glass with the Riesling beneath the table as my fingers located the appropriate vials to alter the color and viscosity. It needed to be a touch thicker and markedly darker than the original straw hue. In a moment, before anyone happened to glance my way, I was swirling my glass above the table as though savoring the scotch. It was a perfect match, save for the fruity aroma which the glass contained. Taking an experimental mouthful, I was content to find the Riesling to my liking. If I should happen to be able to steal a glance at the label, it was one I should like to have in my own cellar.

"What do you think, Erik?" Carnegie asked me. "I know you to enjoy whiskey."

"Just because I happen to drink it does not mean I particularly enjoy it." I replied offhandedly. "The whiskey is more to the liking of my friend than to me. But so far as scotch goes, this is unlike any other." I held up my glass with a little smile. He would never know the true reason for that particular turn of phrase.

Gracefully, he lifted his glass as he indicated the intention of a toast. "Gentlemen. We have worked long and hard on building the hall. Tonight, we celebrate the near completion of this project that could not have come to pass without each and every one of you here before me. Walter provided the seed of this dream in his search for a place his societies would be able to perform in. Tuthill, you provided the leadership in her construction. Erik, your passion ensured we never strayed or turned from the path to see this Music Hall through. Gentlemen, this dream of ours becomes a reality in eight short days, May 5th is fast approaching! Let us raise a glass to her success."

The significance of five, honestly how the realization had escaped me for so long is rather remarkable. This hall was to open on the fifth day of the fifth month holding six concerts over five days. The Paris Opera held her first gala on January 5th. Within that grand opera hall I had haunted box five, even going so far as to have the box's reservation for the Opera Ghost written into the building's contract. One would think I had planned such an incredible selection of the singular number. And yet, the dates of the Music Hall's debut had been entirely chosen by Damrosch while I had been feverishly installing the roof.

Damrosch stopped the toast with his hand. "Not before I add my own. To you Carnegie. Without your interest none of this would have come to pass. I would still be darting back and forth between the piano company show rooms, frustrated at not having a home for the societies my father created. To Carnegie's Music Hall!"

Not to be outdone, Tuthill brought his own glass into the air. "Had it not been for this project, I never would have had the chance to see the great musical halls of Europe in the same light. Thanks to you, I have left a lasting tribute to the love of my life. May the hall stand for all time."

Their eyes turned to me. Apparently I would be required to speak. Moved by their toasts, I struggled for words of my own. I raised my glass and just spoke my heart. "Many have tried before us to create a hall that captures the heart of what music is to the soul of man. Though some have come close, all have failed. We have taken stone and mortar, blood and sweat, laughter and tears and constructed the perfect chamber out of that purest of emotions. Love. We have created this structure for the love of music for not just this time, but for ever onwards. Shall she always be recognized as the Western pinnacle of all musicianship."

Our glasses came together in the center of the table as we raised the toast. In one gulp we finished off the first course, and I only hoped the remaining courses would follow quickly. Fortunately the soup and breads arrived not long after our glasses hit the table. This was a truly well run club. It was unfortunate for Tuthill, that his soup spoon seemed to have been missing from the table at that time. The poor man searched for it till the rest of us were nearly done. He was in the process of asking a servant for one when Damrosch pointed next to his bowl. "It's right there." My hands were innocently picking at a roll. I suppose it was a little inconsiderate of me to choose Tuthill as my first prank of the dinner party, but his utensils had been the closest at hand.

When the halibut fillets entered, dressed with cucumbers and tomatoes, I could not resist the sudden disappearance of Damrosch's fish fork, which consequently reappeared on the other side of Carnegie's plate. I had been provided with extra time seeing as how I only needed to empty and refill my glass. Fortunately, fish always is served with a white wine. At least I was finding some level of amusement. And so, it seemed, were the others who had yet to note even a hint of how this little game was being played. Their eyes kept glancing my way as I continued to innocently pick at my meal, engaging in the idle conversation as though nothing were amiss.

By the time the forth course of roasted saddle of venison arrived with the vegetables, I was just hitting my stride. Damrosch proceeded to stab his meat with a spoon as I had reversed the entire set of his silverware when he had leaned over to share a private joke with Carnegie. Looking at the wrong piece of silverware in his hands, he raised his eyebrows. "Now … I could have sworn my fork was over there a moment ago."

"It was," I replied before sampling a piece of the dish.

His eyes fixed on me. "You're determined to make fools of us all this evening."

I shifted my eyes to him. Minding my manners, I swallowed before I replied. "I recall a request for a demonstration before we arrived here, was there not, Gentlemen?"

Carnegie burst out laughing. "Walter, you did ask him."

"What you have seen is mere child's play." I leaned back, folding my hands before me. "Take care what you ask for lest your food begin to serenade you."

Even Tuthill could not quell the snicker that escaped him. That was before his venison started a marvelous rendition of Ave Maria while I picked at my vegetables. I could hardly blame the man for being unable to take another bite after that.

"William, for heaven's sake, that was a trick. Your food is not possessed." Carnegie laughed.

Tuthill and Damrosch stared at me. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?" I leaned back, feigning innocence and taking a sip of what appeared to them to be claret. "I merely am eating dinner, like the rest of you."

"His lips didn't move." Damrosch was a little wider-eyed. "The pitch was perfect."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course the pitch was on. You expected anything less? It may once have been a deer, but even nature has standards."

Carnegie's eyes twinkled with merriment. He was enjoying this private show, and honestly so was I. Perhaps attending dinner parties was not so horrid an ordeal when one had such easily amused company.

"Erik, I swear to God that the music was coming from the meat itself." Tuthill pointed at his now deserted venison.

I crossed my arms and nodded blandly. "That was the point. Thank you for noting the obvious."

"How did you learn how to do that?" He asked.

Swallowing the rest of the supposed claret, I looked down at the table. "Entirely too much free time as a child."

The fifth course arrived comprised of sweetbreads. I briefly considered juggling them after a quick pass through the gas light. But then thought it a bit on the vaudeville side. Instead I decided to let this course go without interruption. The entire time, the conversation was idle, with suspicious glances in my direction. Nothing was swapped, nothing missing. I just leaned back bidding my time and contemplating the small floral arrangement in the center of the table.

The salad that was the focal point of our sixth course provided an interesting unintentional garnish in all but my own. All three men discovered in the center of their lettuce, a single bloom that had previously been part of the arrangement. I had ensured the flower for each had been visible to the one who received it. It was unfortunate for Carnegie that he discovered his by nearly eating it. Without even looking up, I polished off my own salad. One more course to go.

When the sorbet arrived with the little bonbons, I admit to feeling the effects of nearly the entire bottle of Riesling. Carnegie was a little too relaxed, having consumed a broader mixture of alcohols. But his relaxed state provided the perfect opportunity. Levitations could better be performed with more preparation, but it did not mean they were unachievable while being observed. The poor man was quite startled when one of his bonbons shot up from the plate to fly across the room.

"Now, those must truly be fresh to do that." I remarked before popping one in my mouth. "Ahhh, now I see, they are liquors. No wonder they have that little extra kick."

Carnegie left his chair behind to cross the room to the little rogue piece of chocolate. He picked it up, wrapping his fingers around it as if searching for something. I smiled, he wouldn't find it. The fine silk strand had already found its way back into my pocket.

My hand wrapped elegantly around the champagne glass. I cannot even begin to explain how long it took me to find a substance able to mimic champagne from the white wine base. I cast my relaxed gaze over each man I had spent the past couple of years working closely with. Their expressions were a mixture of amusement and confusion, unsure that they had witnessed what they had. "Gentlemen, this was quite the evening. I enjoyed providing the entertainment, and I trust your hunger for it satiated." I glanced towards Tuthill. "William, and you know how rarely I use the familiar even among our private company, I sincerely hope you now have a different understanding of just how swiftly and finely tuned my reactions are. Precisely why this is so should now be blatantly obvious. Can we cease with the mistrust over the other day's unfortunate confrontation?"

He nodded, dumbstruck.

"Good. I should hate to have any suspicions between us." I spread my hands wide. "Now you have heard a little of my former life and seen a little sample of how I first made my living. I hope this is enough for you, as much of the rest I do not desire to share."

Carnegie shook his head. "I would have believed you to have embroidered the tale from earlier. However, now I am quite convinced it was entirely possible. No wonder the shah sought you for his court. How long did you say you were there?"

"I did not say." I replied before emptying my glass. "But if you must know, four years of my life I influenced his court before rather dramatically falling out of favor."

Damrosch gave me a sidelong glance. "Did he learn who stole his cat?"

"No." I replied stonily. "He figured out who really held the power in his kingdom and desired to relieve me of my head to get it back." Standing up from the chair, I took out my pocket watch and glanced at the plant that would likely have a hangover in the morning. The empty bottle of Riesling still resided under the table. "If you will excuse me, Gentlemen. While Carnegie assumed I did not have any prior engagements, he was incorrect. I do."

"Wait a minute, Erik. You said you were a magician in his court. How is it you were influencing his kingdom?" Tuthill stood up with a slight drunken sway, his slow whit confused by the little detail.

"I was initially summoned as a magician. However, he came to ask more of my skills. My price for coming at his whim was exacting. And in the end he grew unwilling to pay it. I will see you tomorrow at the rehearsals. Good evening."

I left the room behind me. The host brought me my cloak and I slipped out into the night air. Fortune had placed me within a few blocks of where messages were typically deposited for my viewing. I reached the old fountain and pried the brick loose. Behind it was a hollow therein concealed a small folded letter scrawled in the artful penmanship of Shunyuan. My hands were already beginning to crush the letter before I even finished reading it.

The boy has woken. He has not left as instructed, but instead merely fled the house without paying his bill. Current location is with a disreputable gambler near Chelsea. Since funds were diminished, unsure what he is using as collateral. Will continue to monitor his activities.

There was no signature. This ensured no trail connecting the information. I slammed the brick back into place, before turning to walk up 5th Ave. I should have known he would not follow the advice. In fact I had known. Standing by his side, I had even admitted while penning the note that he would not go. This abysmal mess was only getting worse. Passing by a gas lamp, I lit the paper on fire and dropped it on the cobblestones. This was a dangerous dance I was in. After all, should he come to his senses his wife was in my home. He had undeniable claim to her, whether she was with me of her own accord or not.

Curse you, Chagny! Why can't he do the world a favor and just take a long walk off a short pier.