Wine bespotted as he was, Nachton could not help but laugh at the irony which his life became. Without the drink it would have been too cruel a jest for mirth. Few people had endured, given or sacrificed so much for their dreams.
Leaving home just two days after the arrival of that fateful letter, Nachton had said nothing more to his parents than “You shall see my name in lights.” His mother’s cries were rebuffed scornfully and the father, who had for once mastered his pride, received no kindness. He left without a parting glance as a prisoner who gains parole after a lifetime in bondage.
DePraeco was true to his word. They traveled to the four corners of the earth and young Nachton learned more about magic, and life in their first year together than he had ever dreamed there was to know. Perhaps the harshest lesson, though, was that Illusionists deal in illusions.
Before long Nachton discovered that Leonardo DePraeco was a hard and spiteful man, not the kindly wizard who took young magicians under his wing. He drilled the boy relentlessly. By day and by night they practiced magic both simple and complex. His words were sharp and bit deep into the soul. Never had Willard’s father spoken to him as if he were a fool or dullard. On the contrary, James Hoffmann had believed in his son’s greatness and chafed under the possibility that it should be wasted.
Food was always scarce during their travels though the act brought in huge amounts of money. DePraeco the skinflint would not part with so much as a bronze pfennig unless Willard worked and sweated for the bounty. His clothing was ragged and usually filthy unless he had chance to wash it in a motel room sink. Never had he lacked for sustenance at his parents’ home. They had given to him generously and in abundance.
In all but the law Willard had become his slave. He was cook, porter and maid. They lived in cheap motels and walked whenever possible, sometimes ten miles between destinations.
But worst of all was the jealous way in which Leonardo hovered over him, watching his every move. He could not leave a room without telling his intentions and, once he returned, a full accounting of his actions was required. And Willard always felt the old man’s eyes upon him.
After six months of grueling labor, Nachton was finally given a chance to perform. They were at the tail end of a European tour and needed to fulfill a double booking in the city of Guben on the German / Polish border. The expected act had failed to arrive and so, reluctantly, DePraeco allowed Nachton his chance to shine. The boy opened the show and performed passably. No one had come to see him anyway. DePraeco was the legend, returned to the stage for a farewell tour and offering the crowds a new illusion which none had ever imagined before.
“Meine Damen und Herren”, Nachton announced, “Today, Master Leonardo DePraeco will astound you…” he raised a finger to the air for emphasis, “with an illusion so powerful, so amazing, so utterly wonderful that you will cry out in the hope that it is true.” He lowered his hand and paced across the stage in a well-metered step, “Man has long sought the means of rejuvenating the flesh. The Holy Grail, The Philosopher’s Stone, these are but two of the legendary ways in which man could remain forever young. Tonight, Master Leonardo will demonstrate for you the third. Discovered many years ago by the immortal Ponce
The house lights dropped in an instant. A secondary curtain lifted to reveal a large stone basin set amid tropical flowers. Moonlight caressed the scene and reflected off the surface of the still water. The fountain appeared to be beyond ancient and an ugly crack ran jagged down one face.
Nachton strode once more to center stage and addressed the crowd, his arms splayed, “See, I am a sprightly youth not yet 20 summers. My limbs are strong. My eyes clear. Fifty years of vigorous life stand before me. I shall yet undergo many labors, conquer challenges, love women. But look! Anon comes an aged father who would fain trade places with me.” With a wink and playful aside he enticed the audience, “Come, let us entertain his proposal.”
DePraeco, stooped with age and leaning heavily on a cane, stepped forward to intercept his assistant near the font. “Young sir, hear me. I am four score and three years old. My life has been long and full. I have grown very wealthy and lack for nothing. Now I approach the time when all men must lay down the body and melt into the clay. This I greatly fear and my lust for life has not abated. Therefore, sell me one of your years. I have gold enough and to spare.”
“Sell you one of my years?” laughed Nachton according to the script. “I am a poor lad with few prospects in this world. I would answer your desire soon enough were it possible. But there is no way in heaven or hell for such a bargain to be struck.”
“Oh no?” replied the wizard. “I give you one hundred golden ducats” and a shower of coins spouted from his sleeve, landing with a tinkle on the floor and rolling every which way. “Take them and with my compliments. For one year of your life. You merely need scoop forth a cup from this fountain and bear it to me. If no power may accomplish this feat then you have gained a small fortune and lost nothing but a few moments.”
“A fool and his money are soon parted they say,” whispered Nachton to the crowd. “Perhaps we shall discover how foolish the man is.”
“Lead on good Sir!” he cried. “Where is the cup?”
DePraeco reached into his bag and removed a silver goblet, “Here young Master. Bear it true and earn your gold.”
Nachton took the proffered cup and turning toward the stone basin said in a mocking tone, “How great is your thirst, Sir? Shall I sell you two? Three? Five years? Yes! Buy five years from me or none at all.
“If you will swear to fulfill your part Sir then I shall buy ten years of you. For a thousand ducats each I shall buy them and you shall have your money ere a single drop touch my lips.”
“On those terms I shall give up half my life! Twenty years and not a day less.”
Done and done Sir!”
With a flourish Nachton dipped the cup into the fountain. As he did so, a small object fell from his palm, landing in the cup. Immediately the chalice began to glow a bright yellow, as if sunlight were liquefied and poured therein.
Stepping over to the old man he lifted the cup in two hands. Bags of gold appeared from thin air. Falling heavily, they clinked and jangled some bursting open, until the ground was covered.
DePraeco reached forward and lifted the goblet to his lips. And the only sounds in the entire theater were the gasps of amazement coming from the audience.
Some thought they had seen merely an illusion. Others claimed it was of the devil. What none could deny was that life itself had passed from the young man to the old. Nachton’s hair streaked gray, while DePraeco’s white mane grew darker. One face sunk into itself, wrinkles forming on once smooth cheeks. In turn the other man’s thin, skeletal face grew full. Nachton’s frame began to stoop and bend as age overtook him. And the now younger man straightened into a tall and imposing figure.
The wizard moved gracefully to the forestage and spoke, “My ladies and gentlemen, Dammen und Herren. We give you, The Fountain of Youth!”
The curtain fell to thunderous applause.
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