It was hard to tell if the already dim lights fell slightly or if it was just perception.<br/><br/>That after all, was the heart of David’s trade,<br/><br/>Regardless, candles seemed to flicker, the light flowing and ebbing, almost a sense of palpable darkness falling across the room. The silence was deafening, eyes falling up David de Sabre… seemingly the only patron still bathed in any form of light. Slowly the chair was pushed back, the rasp of the feet scrapping against the floor and with slow deliberate movements the Lord of Blackest Night rose to his feet. His eyes blazed, a dark fire hidden deep within, a slight smile on his face. His steps were rhythmic, one following the other, the clip of his boots the soundtrack to the night.<br/><br/>He took the centre of the room, turning to see all his audience, to observe all who came before him. The cloak had remained away and David stood in a dark waistcoat, white puffy shirt, the half-mask he worse affixed to his face. He spoke, his voice loud, powerful and deep, reaching into the hearts of the audience.<br/><br/><strong>“My friends, let us begin with simplicity itself. Let us open our voyage beyond the dark gates with a single small step.”</strong><br/><br/>From within a breast pocket a pack of cards were pulled. David handled them with ease, flipping and twisting, shuffling and reshuffling with barely a glance before walking to a particularly viscous looking man and handing them to them.<br/><br/><strong>“As this man will soon attest, this is a completely untouched deck of cards, normal in every way. Feel free to observe, shuffle and touch them.”</strong><br/><br/>A slightly sarcastic glance from his new assistant, but the man worked on the card, cutting and shuffling, testing for bent corners before handing them back. David fanned them and turned to another patron.<br/><br/><strong>“Please, pick a card. Don’t show or tell me what it is, but you can show any of your friends if you wish. I will turn my head away so I can’t see. When you are content I will give the pack of cards to you. Put the card back in the pack and feel free to shuffle them again.”</strong><br/><br/>This happened, the man picking out a card, placing it back in, shuffling the pack before handing it to David.<br/><br/>The Five of Hearts.<br/><br/>David held the cards in his hand, faces away from him. He looked deeply into the cards then back to the man who had picked the card, to the cards, to the man again. The wait grew, moment by moment until, with a sudden burst of speed David hurled the cards in the opposite direction. Down they fluttered to the ground, but it was not there that David was directing attention. No, his finger was pointing beyond them, to a window at the back.<br/><br/><strong>“Is that your card good Sir?”</strong><br/><br/>And so the man rushed to the window, along with many of patrons, to see the card seemingly hanging on the window… on the outside of the window.<br/><br/>The Five of Hearts.<br/><br/>Gasps erupted, the standard “How the hell did he do that?”, nervous laughter, slight shock, the smile still playing on David’s lips. It was not a complex trick, not one of his spectacular ones… but it was a personal favourite.<br/>