Magical Duel of the Century (Short story)

It was time to end it. The world was just not big enough for the two of them. By world, Signor Luciano meant, of course, that city. They had both risen to fame by working the small town circuit, year after year of shows in God-forgotten places, their talents wasted trying to amaze people you could just as well astonish by pulling coins out of their ears. Going from one rat-infested motel to another on a strict diet of hot-dogs and bad coffee - all that just to get to the big city someday. The city with its elegant theaters and its smartly-dressed ladies and gentlemen. Places where it smelled of perfume, not stale beer. Places where you could make plenty of money. Plenty for one, not for two and he'd had enough of seeing Mr. Horatio plastering the city with posters for his Most Magical Experience Ever. Featuring the one and only Miss Sylvia. That had been a low blow even for the not-at-all-high standards of their profession. Sylvia was his discovery and a most valuable asset, for anyone knows that having a good assistant is a prerequisite for any magician that aspires to greatness.

It was not that she had a great body, although she did - with her long splendid legs neither men, nor women could take their eyes off. What made her invaluable was her decent, totally trustworthy air, that lent credibility to his performance. Like the sawing in half routine – people knew deep down it was a trick, but when they looked at the poor innocent girl trapped in the box they held their breaths, even closed their eyes when he released the blade. The rousing applause were for her, not for him.
Now she was working with Horatio. The bastard had given her a small act of her own, something simple with rabbits and top-hats. Just imagine the impression on the public, the adorable girl and her stupid fluffy bunnies.

Signor Luciano spent days in his study, going through all the books of the trade he had bought over the years – and he had quite an impressive collection. There must be something he could try – a new act, unseen before – at least in this city. And he did find an amazing, yet so simple, disappearing act that would have Mr. Horatio vanish from the stage and from the city, leaving him the undisputed Master of Illusion, as he liked to call himself.

The two magicians met for coffee and, just as Signor Luciano predicted, his opponent was all too willing to settle the rivalry once and for all. After all, it had cost him a pretty penny to woo the lovely Sylvia away from the enemy camp. As men of honor, they agreed the winner would be declared by the public, the one who got the most applause got to stay.
They'd take turns going through the usual tricks people were accustomed to see – flying decks of cards, knotted handkerchiefs, levitating tables, mind-reading – working up the public to the grand finale – two new, never seen before, surprise acts. Signor Luciano was generous enough to let Mr. Horatio close the show, which would give him a slight advantage as people have a short memory and are inclined to clap their hands more vigorously for the last performer than for the one before it.

Signor Luciano was not particularly worried about the surprise trick his enemy might come up with. It could very well be the most incredible and unbelievable act in history, but he doubted Mr. Horatio would be in any condition to perform it. Not after the vanishing act he would be subjected to only minutes before – the sudden fall through the trap-door, the smoke, the soot – just how credible can a dirty badly-shaken magician be?

The Magical Duel of the Century had been duly advertised all over town and the house was packed that night. They had agreed to share Sylvia for the night, after all she'd worked with both of them and knew all the acts. It was decided she'd do her rabbits routine mid-show, give them both some time to rest.
The crowd was ecstatic – two great magicians in one show. The tricks followed one after the other seamlessly, each performance punctuated by enthusiastic cries of Bravo and heartfelt applause. Signor Luciano clapped his hands when Mr. Horatio correctly guessed the lady in the front row had a round mirror and a plastic comb in her pocket. (They'd both employed her 'random member of the public' services in the past.) Likewise, Mr. Horatio tipped his hat when his adversary manged to free himself from the locked box in less than a minute. No worries there, Sylvia's attention-distracting technique was brilliant.
It was agreed that Mr. Horatio would be the one to do the sawing in half number. Beautiful Sylvia ushered in two stage-hands carrying the standard wooden box and directed them to place it on the sturdy table. Unfortunately, as she was demonstrating the sharpness of the blade, she accidentally cut her hand, splattering blood on her beautiful gold dress. As a true gentleman, Signor Luciano stepped in announcing he'd take her place, while she went backstage to tend to her wound. In her distraction, Sylvia forgot to mention she had not yet released the hatch that would allow Signor Luciano to lower himself under the table and evade the blade. Let them figure it out if they're so smart or clear the stage. She'd had enough of playing the dumb assistant. It was time to end it.

Story written for the #constrainedwriting contest hosted by @svashta. For details, check out his post here

Images: 1, 2