The Man Who Was Magic Read online

  THE MAN

  WHO WAS MAGIC

  An enchanting journey to the fabulous hidden city of Mageia, wherein dwell the master magicians of the world, and a behind-the-scenes glimpse into the mystery called magic.

  If you look for Mageia on the map, it is located somewhere to the east of west, just to the north of south and only a mile or so over the impassable boundary of Time.

  This is the hidden city, home of the masters of misdirection, lightning practitioners of the-hand-is-quicker-than-the-eye, entertainers of young and old. There is no routine of bewilderment they do not know.

  Innocence and belief had long since fled from Mageia and even the children had access to the secret books of tricks and knew there was no such thing as real magic.

  One of these was Jane, daughter of The Great Robert, Chief Magician, Mayor of Mageia and Grand Master of the Inner Circle. She was eleven and knew how to produce paper flowers from an empty tube or confetti from a silken handkerchief, but not what made a tree grow or made the stars come out.

  One day from beyond the dark, impenetrable Mountains of Straen, there appeared a young wandering magician and his talking dog, Mopsy, to knock for admission at the bronze gates of the city.

  No one was aware of it, not even himself, but his presence constituted a danger to many within the walls. For it seemed that his magic might be different from theirs.

  This is the story of how innocence came to Mageia, faith was restored to a child, and what happened when the city and its inhabitants met THE MAN WHO WAS MAGIC.

  BOOKS BY PAUL GALLICO

  Farewell to Sport

  Adventures of Hiram Holliday

  The Secret Front

  The Snow Goose

  Lou Gehrig—Pride of the Yankees

  Golf Is a Nice Friendly Game

  Confessions of a Story Writer

  The Lonely

  The Abandoned

  Trial by TerrorThe Small Miracle

  The Foolish Immortals

  Snowflake

  Love of Seven Dolls

  Thomasina

  The Steadfast Man

  Mrs. ’Arris Goes to Paris

  Ludmila

  Too Many Ghosts

  Mrs. ’Arris Goes to New York

  The Hurricane Story

  Further Confessions of a Story Writer

  Scruffy

  Coronation

  Love, Let Me Not Hunger

  The Hand of Mary Constable

  The Day the Guinea Pig Talked

  The Day Jean-Pierre Was Pignapped

  Mrs. ’Arris Goes to Parliament

  The Golden People

  The Day Jean-Pierre Went ’Round the World

  Three Legends

  The Silent Miaow

  The Man Who Was Magic

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 66-18064

  Copyright © 1966 by Paul Gallico

  All Rights Reserved

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Edition

  Jacket painting by Bunty Miller

  To the child Virginia was

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER I: THE COMING OF THE STRANGER

  CHAPTER II: THE CITY OF THE MAGICIANS

  CHAPTER III: JANE

  CHAPTER IV: ADAM FINDS AN ASSISTANT

  CHAPTER V: FUSSMER THE FABULOUS

  CHAPTER VI: NINIAN THE NONPAREIL

  CHAPTER VII: MOPSY ASSISTS

  CHAPTER VIII: PLAIN AND SIMPLE MAGIC

  CHAPTER IX: HUMPTY TOGETHER AGAIN

  CHAPTER X: FEAR COMES TO MAGEIA

  CHAPTER XI: MOPSY BREAKS UP A DINNER PARTY

  CHAPTER XII: THE PECULIAR PICNIC

  CHAPTER XIII: THE MAGIC FARM

  CHAPTER XIV: THE GATHERING STORM

  CHAPTER XV: MALVOLIO STRIKES

  CHAPTER XVI: MOPSY ON TRIAL

  CHAPTER XVII: ADAM IS WARNED

  CHAPTER XVIII: ONE FOR THE SHOW

  CHAPTER XIX: TWO FOR THE MONEY

  CHAPTER XX: AND THREE TO GO

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  ADAM

  An unknown magician from Glimour

  MOPSY

  his Talking Dog

  THE GREAT ROBERT

  Mayor of Mageia, Chief Magician and Head of the Guild of Master Magicians

  Mrs. Robert

  his wife

  JANE

  his daughter

  PETER

  his son

  FUSSMER THE FABULOUS

  The Town Clerk

  NINIAN THE NONPAREIL

  An inept magician

  MALVOLIO THE MIGHTY

  An evil Magician

  Magicians of Mageia

  Wang Fu

  Rajah Punjab

  Abdul Hamid

  Dante the Dazzling

  Frascati the Fantastic

  Zerbo the Matchless

  Professor Alexander

  Mephisto the Mysterious

  Boldini the Brilliant

  Saladin the Stupendous

  The Gatekeeper

  Citizens of Mageia, Candidate Magicians, the Stage Manager, the Orchestra Leader, the Museum Janitor, Stagehands, Electricians, Sceneshifters.

  THE MAN WHO WAS MAGIC

  A Fable of Innocence

  I

  THE COMING OF THE STRANGER

  The stranger, dusty and travel-stained, accompanied by the small mop of a dog at his heels, emerged from the cool darkness of the woods where they had spent the night and paused for a moment in wonder at the first sight of their goal, Mageia, the magical city.

  Perched upon a crag, seen from the valley below with its stone wall and towers, battlements, spires and turrets rising above, shining in the early morning sunlight, it gave the impression of an island floating in the sky. Before proceeding up the winding pathway that climbed to the foot of the great, bronze gates, the stranger wondered whether perhaps it was no more than the grandest illusion created by the world’s illusionists who lived there.

  “Look, Mopsy,” he said, addressing his dog, “there it is! Do you suppose it’s real?”

  “Well,” the dog replied, “as long as we’ve come this far, why don’t we go the rest of the way and find out?” He was one of those small, close-to-the-ground, shaggy affairs, so hairy in fact, that it was difficult to locate the dog part of him. When one looked one felt that somewhere beneath the cascade of fringe there was the suspicion of a pair of bright eyes and a black button nose and sometimes the hint of a pink tongue. But one certainly could not be sure where his body ended and his legs began, or how much of his tail was tail and how much was him.

  The dog, however, was no ordinary one, for he was able to talk. Or, at least, so the aspiring, young magician who was his master claimed and up to that time no one had ever taken the trouble to prove that he couldn’t.

  “That makes sense,” said the stranger. “Come on, then, up we go.”

  He was a personable fellow, lean and clean of limb, narrow-waisted and wide-shouldered, the very picture of a brave, youthful adventurer. He had short-cropped, curly, copper-red hair and strange, light-greenish eyes that almost disappeared in the crinkles at their corners when he smiled. His nose was rather long and humorous, and went with a wide, friendly mouth. It was the kind of face which if one were a nice person, one liked immediately and if one wasn’t, one didn’t and felt rather irritated by its gaiety.

  But what was most odd about him was that he was clad in the garb of forgotten times; hose of soft doeskin with a shirt and jerkin of the same material. A cap with a pheasant’s tail feather was perched jauntily on the side of his head. His worldly belongings were crammed into a large knapsack hung onto his back and he had cut himself a thick staff of oak to help him on his way. I
nto its polished top, he had carved his name—“ADAM.”

  Thus they came to the foot of the magical city of Mageia. The smooth bronze gates, twelve feet high, showed not a sign of a handle or a knocker, but over to one side was a round push button with the word “Porter” above it. Adam pressed it.

  He heard a sliding sound from above and, looking up, saw that a window had opened far up in the door. Peering out was a venerable, old gentleman with a long, white beard that fell at least a foot below the sill. He was wearing a rather battered silk hat, and Adam could see he was clad in evening dress as well.

  In a voice that was as dry as the rustle of autumn leaves, he asked, “Who are you? Where do you come from? And what do you want?”

  The traveler doffed his cap politely and replied, “My name is Adam. I have come from Glimour, behind the Mountains of Straen. I should like to apply for admission to the Guild of Master Magicians. I was told that this was where I must come.”

  “Ah, yes,” said the old man. “Elimination trials going on this morning in the Town Hall; finals tomorrow night in the Municipal Auditorium.” He leaned farther out to get a better view of the stranger and said, “Are you one of us? Only magicians allowed in here.”

  “Well yes, in a way. But I hope to be a famous one someday, like those I’ve heard about from Mageia.”

  “What do you mean, in a way? Are you a magician, or aren’t you? Can you do tricks?”

  “A few.”

  “What kind?”

  “Only the very simplest, sir,” Adam replied. “Just magic, the ordinary sort. That’s why I’ve come here to try to learn more.”

  The old man said, “Hmmm. I’ve never seen a magician dressed like you before.”

  Mopsy sat down and cocked his head up in the direction of the speaker and said, “Oh, you haven’t? That seems to me a very personal remark. What’s wrong with his clothes?”

  “Hush, Mopsy!” said Adam. “We must be polite.”

  “What was that you said?” asked the old man.

  “I was only speaking to my dog. I’m sorry about the clothes, but they’re the only ones I have. I suppose I might be able to procure others inside?”

  “Oh yes, you’d have to,” answered the man. “Uniform requirements: white tie, top hat and tails, like mine unless you’re one of those Oriental chaps.” He was a retired magician whose fingers were now too stiff to allow him to perform and so he had been given the job of gatekeeper. Then he added, “Did you say you came from over the Mountains of Straen? That’s nonsense! No one has ever crossed them. It can’t be done.”

  “Well, I did,” said Adam.

  The porter now regarded him doubtfully. “Hm, if you say you did . . . What’s that thing you’ve got with you?”

  “It’s my talking dog, Mopsy,” said Adam.

  “That’s silly,” said the old man querulously. “First of all that bunch of hair doesn’t look like a dog. And secondly, everybody knows that dogs can’t talk.”

  “Huh!” cried Mopsy, “ ‘thing’ and ‘bunch of hair,’ is it? What about your chin whiskers, like an old billy goat?”

  “Mopsy, do be quiet! He’ll never let us in.”

  “What’s all that going on between you two down there?” asked the porter.

  Adam replied, “My dog was just remarking, ‘What a very good-looking old gentleman.’ ”

  “Was he, now! A most observing little animal.” And then with sudden suspicion, “But I didn’t hear him say it.”

  Adam smiled, “Well, I did.”

  “Pfui!” said Mopsy. “You told a fib.”

  “It’s what you ought to have said,” Adam replied quickly.

  “Did he say something again?” asked the Gatekeeper.

  “He wished you good health and long life.”

  “Hmm,” mused the old man. “Anyone who manages to get over the Mountains of Straen and has a dog who can talk must be some kind of magician. Well, you’ll need to be a good one, too. Do you know how many pass the judges in the first test? One in ten, maybe. A single slip and you’re out. Novelty is what they’re looking for and originality rather than something complicated.”

  “I’ll try my best,” Adam said.

  “Eight successful candidates go to the finals,” the Gatekeeper continued, “and you know how many are selected out of those? Three! Chosen by acclamation. The others get the hook.” He peered down at Adam once more. “By the way,” he said, “I thought there was something missing. Where’s your assistant?”

  “I haven’t one, except Mopsy, here.”

  “The same, at your service,” put in Mopsy with a slight smirk.

  “Ho!” scoffed the Gatekeeper. “Whoever heard of a dog as a magician’s assistant? You’ll never get by with that here, in Mageia. It’s one of the rules that every candidate must be accompanied by a female assistant. And don’t think the judges haven’t got an eye for a pretty face and a good pair of legs, too.”

  “Would it be possible to find one inside your fair city?” Adam asked.

  “You might,” said the porter, “but I doubt it. There won’t be many about who aren’t either taken up or spoken for, what with all the new applicants. Still, I suppose there’s no harm in letting you have a try. You’ll have to register with the Town Clerk.” He glanced at his watch. “Entries close sharp at ten. You’ve got about an hour. Very well, then, mind! You’re standing a bit close.”

  Adam had to leap backwards as the double gates opened silently and the porter came down the steps from his office to greet them. His figure was bent and his tail, coat old-fashioned and rusty. But his watery blue eyes were kindly as he said, “Welcome to Mageia.” And then, as if suddenly smitten once more by doubt, he added, “Are you sure you’re a magician? You see, only professional and bona fide ones are allowed in here, I wouldn’t want to get into any trouble.”

  “I think so,” Adam replied.

  “Well, that’s all right then, and I wish you luck,” the old man said.

  Mopsy was edging close towards his feet and Adam heard him mutter, “‘Bunch of hair’ and ‘thing’, eh?” and was just in time to stop him with, “Mopsy, don’t you dare!”

  “What? What?” said the Gatekeeper. And then, looking down, “He’s really a cute little fellow, isn’t he? I didn’t mean to be rude to him. Can he sit up?”

  “Can you sit up, Mopsy?” Adam asked.

  Mopsy replied, “I can, but I shan’t. What if I asked him to get down on all fours?”

  “He says he can, but he’d rather not,” Adam explained, “He says it isn’t dignified.”

  “Quite so, quite so,” agreed the porter. “How very extraordinary—a genuine talking dog!” For by now he was no longer sure whether it was Mopsy or Adam he had heard say things. “Well, come in, come in!”

  Adam and Mopsy passed through into the city. They were at the end of their long journey.

  Immediately they found themselves in such surroundings as they had never seen before. For once within the high wall that encircled the place, the streets of Mageia were as merry, gay, gaudy and sprightly as the most glittering circus parade.

  II

  THE CITY OF THE MAGICIANS

  Mageia, the magical city of the magicians of the world, stood on the crown of a hill overlooking pleasant, rolling country of wooded patches, fair meadows, silvery streams and busy farms.

  The view from the walls over the land was boundless to the horizons where earth and sky meet to blend into a shimmering mist, except far to the west where towered the dark, forbidding line of the Mountains of Straen.

  And Mageia itself was unlike any place that Adam had ever seen before, for here it was that all the magicians, conjurers, prestidigitators, illusionists, sleight-of-handsters, escape artists, mind readers and practitioners of legerdemain lived together with their wives and children, when they were not off touring somewhere in the world, giving entertainments in theaters, concert halls, auditoriums, clubs or at private parties.

  The hill on which it sto
od could be located somewhere west of East and just to the south of North and only a mile or so over the boundary of time, so that there was very little difference between yesterday, today and tomorrow.

  Since stage magicians who specialize in such amazing things as producing lighted cigarettes from their mouths, or silk handkerchiefs in a profusion of colors, or snatching live pigeons seemingly out of the air had to pretend that they had astonishing and supernatural powers in order to excite and confound people, they kept very much to themselves. No one was permitted to enter the city who was not an illusionist, or connected in some way with the world of professional magic.

  For the conjurers of Mageia guarded their secrets jealously, since these were their most precious stock in trade and many of them had been handed down from grandfather to father and father to son, through generations. It might do for a person in the audience to think of a way by which a live rabbit could have got into the opera hat which surely was empty a moment before, or even suspect the means by which the pretty lady in the silk tights and spangled skirt, standing in a cabinet, disappeared in a flash before his very eyes, but it would never do for him actually to know.

  This was the reason why no outsider ever managed to get into Mageia, or for that matter, even knew where it was. Adam, of course, had heard of it because he had been slightly magic ever since he could remember.

  If the town loomed up behind its walls as mysterious-looking and exciting as an old-time castle, within it was even more so. The houses themselves remained as they were in the ancient days, when alchemists, necromancers and sorcerers had lived there, crooked and gabled, leaning towards one another across narrow, cobbled streets, all built on the slant of the hill. At the center was an imposing Square with a fine Town Hall topped by a clock tower on one side and on the other their proud, brand new theater, the Mageia Municipal Auditorium, where the magicians often gave entertainments for one another, showed off their newest tricks and held their annual trials for admission to the Guild of Master Magicians.