The carriage didn’t stop its mad flight. Sitting atop the seat, a hooded figure snapped the reins hard, driving the horses on. In one hand, a coiled whip waited for its chance to strike, if the reins weren’t enough encouragement for the horses to not slow their escape. Beneath the moonlight, the horses raced across an expanse of rolling plain with no road in sight. Most refused to push their horses when the stars came out. They feared broken legs. A broken horse had no use. No might as well chop them up for meat. Despite this, the shrouded driver gave little concern for the possible dips and rises among the grass. With a snap of the reins, the horses raced on all the way until daybreak.

  At last, the sun rose, bringing the nighttime flight to an end. The hooded figure pulled back on the reins with a shout of “Woah.” Weary and breathing hard, the horses came to a stop by a small stream. The horses drank the water with furious thirst. Jumping up on the seat, the hooded figure looked out in every direction. Not even the sharpest eyes could spot anything out of the usual. Simple, rolling plains. Not an enemy in sight. Sighing, the figure dropped the hood of the cloak, revealing a woman’s shrewd face. She brushed out her long raven hair, which she kept in two long braids. “Hey boys, looks like we pulled it off again.”

  Her call invoked no response. Her eyebrows furrowed, creasing a long scar across her forehead, she climbed down and walked up to the carriage’s door. Throwing it open, she found two men. One of which was a short statured man, smaller than her, with reddish hair. He sat in the midst of a pile of garments, food, rings, coin purses, and various other gifts. The pile was so large it almost spilled onto the ground when the driver opened the door. With a pear in his mouth, he grinned. “Alexandra,” he chuckled, running a hand through the ill-gotten fruits of their labor. “This is by far one of the best hauls we have had yet. We could stop performing for the next year if we wanted.”

  “But will we, Jacob?” she asked, stepping up into the carriage. Kissing the man on his brow, she sat in the seat across from him. She paid no attention to the other man in the carriage. At the moment, he was none of her concern. All that mattered was Jacob.

  “Of course not,” Jacob replied, his grin growing up to his ears. “This is far too profitable. If we keep this show on the road, we’ll end up living like kings before old lord Ekron joins his fathers in whatever eternity those leeching lords deserve.” He picked up a gold coin and bit it, tasting its authenticity. “At this rate, the slime of the streets will start calling on us as lords and ladies. Nobody will leave us alone. Help us great ones. We’ll do anything.”

  Alexandria picked up one of the lady’s garments, placing it against her chest, smiling to herself. It was made of pure silk. No doubt, it was an heirloom used for special rituals. Looking at the dress, she knew they would never be royalty. However, being clothed in such apparel would make them look the part. “Not sure how I feel about being in the public eye, but I could get used to some bowing.”

  “We owe it all to you, Mister Magic Man,” Jacob said to the third companion. The other man said nothing, face staring at the wall. Since fleeing Ehud, he had sat in silence, not even glancing over to gaze at their treasures. Shaking his head, Jacob threw an apple into the man’s lap. “Hey Edward, eat up. You need your strength for the next performance.”

  “Do not call me by that name,” he moaned, breaking his silence. His slick brown hair shook as he spoke. There was a thin veil of calm, masking a darker emotion underneath. “I left that name long ago.”

  For a time, nobody said anything. Alexandria and Jacob exchanged a look. “Has he been like this all night?” she whispered loud enough for Edward to hear. Jacob nodded. Sighing, she turned to Edward. “We went over this before. We refuse to call you by your stage name when it is only the three of us. There has to be a dividing line between what we do out there and what happens in here.”

  “Agreed,” Jacob concluded. “Grigori died on that stage until we resurrect him for the next show. Anything else is going against our plan.”

  “Am I the first one to break from the plan?” Edward asked. His tone was a barbed accusation. That did little to faze Jacob.

  “If you are referring to your god asking for more from those fools, I would like to think of that as an improvised improvement,” Jacob retorted, rubbing three gold pieces together. “The results speak for themselves. I do not see the problem here.”

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  “There should be a limit to how much we take,” Edward replied, his voice tense.

  “And there was. You don’t understand this work like I do. If you just take what they hand you at first, they are hiding the best stuff behind their backs. This is part of running a successful con.”

  At this Edward finally turned around, the shaking of his thick beard accented against his pale face. In his arms, he held a book. “Magic is not a con!” he roared. Dark circles surrounded his eyes. His wild hair stretched out as slender arms grasping at the air.

  “But what you do is,” his companion replied, refusing to be cowed down. “And you are wasting your breath if you think you can convince me otherwise.” Before Edward could argue further, he spat, “You do realize that that book does not make you special.” Edward shook with rage. “It’s irreplaceable with our endeavors, but other than that, it’s worthless.”

  “Worthless! How dare you?”

  “Is that any way to speak to your god?” Jacob boomed, mimicking the voice from the night before.

  “That’s enough,” Alexandria interrupted, slamming her hand against the seat. The sudden high thud brought the argument to an end. “Edward, there’s water outside. Go wash off. I can’t take you seriously when you look like that.” The bearded man held her gaze for a long time. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to him.” She winked to reassure him. Edward remained in place for a moment longer, accenting how little he believed her. Without saying another word, he left the carriage.

  Once outside, he wasn’t surprised to find a lack of chastisement going on inside. As far back as Edward could remember, Alexandria kept herself planted between the two men whenever a conflict arose, yet her final position was always clear. This disagreement will end like all the others, he recognized. Before obeying his orders, he perused his book and felt a great fire in his heart. Ever since they met, Jacob refused to believe, saying that it was nothing but a collection of cheap tricks. Charlatans used it to trick fools into cowering in belief. Alexandria did not say what she believed one way or another, maintaining her position of feigned neutrality. Nonetheless, what they believed did not change anything. What was belief in the face of truth?

  What he held so tight was a book of magic. He knew it. Just holding it in his hands, he understood that great power was within the words and illustrations. What thrilled him even more were the possible greater hands that held this book in the past. The graying cover of the tome was worn to the point of falling apart. It was impossible to ascertain who created the book, but he knew that the original owner held an expansive knowledge of spells. Thirsting for understanding, Edward studied it inside and out throughout the years. He knew the names of each spell and what purpose they served. Within its pages, one had the potential to command mountains to turn to dust, regrow limbs on humans, cure disease, send plagues to wipe out entire villages, and even make spirits bend to their will. It captured the heart of man’s inner desire to control all of life’s unknowns. From the moment he set eyes on the text, he hadn’t been three steps from its engrossing pages.

  He recalled the day he found it as if it were yesterday. In reality, it occurred when he was but a child. It laid hidden in the decaying library of a wealthy man, one long dead. When he found the tome, he was inclined to think like Jacob, believing it to be fake. Back in those youthful days, he kept the text as a lark, but in time, he grew to learn his folly and the genuine nature of the spell book.

  Stepping over to the stream’s edge, he took off his robe, revealing tattered sackcloth. These were the only clothes a devout man should wear. With great care, he laid his robe on the grass, not allowing it to touch the muddy bank. When he was satisfied with its location, he laid the tome upon the black fabric with even greater care. Completing the task, he glanced at the stream, seeing the muted version of his reflection. Despite this, he saw a face that swelled up his chest with pride. Grigori, the great magician, the terror of mankind, looked back at him. The reflection showed everything Edward wanted: strength of will, influence, and most of all, magic. For a long time, he only looked at the man in the water, wishing that this time could last forever.

  Sun crawling overhead, he sighed and went about his task. With both hands, he splashed and rubbed the stream’s water across his face. The dark rings around his eyes washed away. White paste peeled from his skin, revealing a darker skin. Still paler than most but a far cry from the ghost paint that covered his face the previous night. His hands reached to his beard, pulling hard. He grunted as a burning sensation ran across his jawbone. Blinking the droplets out of his eyes, he saw a thick wad of hair in one hand. With his free hand, he rubbed his stubbled chin, patchy courtesy of the fake beard.

  His free hand reached up to his head and pulled the brown wig from his head. Looking back at the water, he no longer saw the bearded mage Grigori. Instead, he found the naked face of Edward, a conniving drifter. With great pain in his heart, he had to face his reality. The book he valued with such high adoration was no more than meaningless symbols and pictures to him. No matter how much he studied the test, he could not complete a single incantation. Not once in his life had he felt the deep energies of magic stir his soul. He was as powerless as a cur in a windstorm. Just as Jacob implied, Edward was a fraud.