The King of Cards

The sound of the deck of cards being shuffled in my hands captivated the audience as I performed a spring flourish. “Pick a card, any card.” A curious young girl approached pointing at the card of her choice. Her eyes wandered to the slanted hat propped atop my head. I ran a hand across the stubble of my beard, a subtle distraction to dupe my admirers. I gave her a secretive wink and put on a crooked smile. My nimble fingers never gave a trick away.

The vibrant red overcoat draped over my shoulders hid an intricate system of handcrafted tricks of the trade. The crowd was easy to deceive through my cunning illusions and card manipulation throughout my majestic performance.

Recently, I have gained a particular interest in my spectators. I scanned the crowd, furtively searching for a certain individual who often frequented my shows. The horde of people was in awe, applauding wildly, eager to see what other tricks I had up my sleeve.

I was starting to make a name for myself. Humble enough, I knew the popularity wasn’t only driven by my grand success, but by a lack of competition. Street performances were becoming scarce, a rare form of entertainment. However, the people still hungered for a show.

Lately, I have discovered posters of my face have been pinned to walls and posts throughout the city without my doing. The accomplice remained a mystery, perhaps an admirer?

When the performance came to an end, I tipped my hat to the young girl, and she passed it amongst the other patrons.

There he was, standing smugly as he tried blending into the dispersing crowd. The man was dressed in a meticulous suit.

“I’m not looking for an assistant.” I blurted out, uninterested as I stowed away my belongings.

The man drew closer, nodding his head as he chuckled to himself. A soft clicking could be heard from his suit’s pocket as he clung to the object inside.

He cleared his throat. “You have a great sleight of hand. Could I interest you in joining my troupe?”

“Your troupe?” I said skeptically over my shoulder.

“I’ll be giving you a platform where you could perform in front of thousands. Not just alleyway gatherings dependent on the weather,” he promoted eagerly.

“I work alone.”

“Your type of talent isn’t easy to come by. Working solo can’t always be what you’re striving for in your career?”

“I don’t want to be part of some circus act,” I replied bluntly.

“Man of few words,” he mumbled to himself. “Ah well, if you have a change of heart, I’ll be in the vicinity.” His voice sent unwelcomed shivers down my spine as he handed back my hat.

An odd clattering came from within: a pair of dice rested amongst the coins.

With a gloved hand, I reached for the dice. Heat emanated from the object as it dissipated through the fabric of my glove.

Impossible, I thought.

Inspecting the dice further, I noticed something quite peculiar: the absence of dots. In their place, a set of coordinates were engraved on the small cube. On each side, there was an inscription of an address, a phone number and the troop’s name.

“The Hippodrome.” I whispered as I read out loud.

Suddenly, the alleyway went dead quiet. Looking up, my audience had already dispersed. Not even a cat prowled behind a dumpster, hunting for a mouse. Clouds hovered menacingly in the sky. A deep rumble from above broke the eerie silence. The pair of dice trembled within the palm of my hand. A strong wind began to envelop around me, and soon, I was being lifted away.