The Glass Magician

“If I could bother you with a favor, Langston,” Emery said when the younger Folder finished, “I’d like you to file a police report for me.”


Langston pulled a sheet of paper from his breast pocket and plucked a pen from a narrow canister on the end table, enchanting it so that it would transcribe everything Ceony said as she related her tale for a second time. Langston looked ghostly when Ceony recounted Grath’s threats, but he said nothing, either out of politeness or because he didn’t want to ruin the Transcription spell.

The story told, Langston folded the transcription into eighths and slipped it into the pocket of his vest.

“I’ll see that it’s done,” he promised, smoothing the sides of his mousy-brown hair. The sofa creaked as he rose. “I’m glad I ran into you when I did, Ceony. I’d hate to think . . . but take care.” To Emery, he said, “You know where to reach me.”

Emery nodded and saw Langston to the door. He then woke Jonto and sent him outside to clean up the deadheaded flowers.

“Grath was our neighbor when we lived in Berkshire,” Emery said as he shut the front door. “He went by the name Gregory then. Worked as a rug salesman, of all things. I used to have some of his merchandise in this room”—he gestured weakly around him—“but I discarded them some time ago.”

Ceony only nodded. She didn’t blame him, of course. Emery had many reasons to hate Grath Cobalt. While Ceony had never found solid proof for it in his heart, she suspected Lira had begun . . . associating . . . with Grath long before Emery filed any divorce papers. It shocked Ceony that Emery’s heart hadn’t been in pieces long before Lira wrenched it from his chest.

She rubbed her forehead. Berkshire. Ceony supposed the old house from Emery’s memories had been located there.

“Do you think he’s responsible for what happened at the paper mill?” she asked. Her heart twisted at the thought. Could the explosion at the paper mill—and all the resulting deaths—be her fault?

Leaning against the wall, Emery folded his arms and answered, “Possibly. But Grath doesn’t like to bring attention to himself; he’s too smart for that. Explosions aren’t his style. If I were to link the two cases together, I’d pin the mill on Saraj.” He frowned. “I wonder if they’re still working together . . .”

Ceony swallowed her anxiety. “Saraj?”

She had seen two people heading toward Foulness Island in that boat before she left with Emery’s heart.

Emery waved a dismissive hand. “Another Excisioner who has some camaraderie with Grath when the mood strikes . . . but it doesn’t matter.” He ran his fingers back through his hair. “This is getting complicated.”

Ceony wanted to ask more, but the way Emery drooped made her want to lock the subject in a cellar and bury the key. Instead, she placed a hand on his folded forearms. “It will work out, one way or another. It always does.”

Emery chuckled. “I find it odd that you’re trying to reassure me when you’re the one in trouble, my dear.” The mirth faded from his voice. “But let us hope Grath is the only Excisioner in town. I really wanted to be done with the lot of them.”

As Emery often did when stressed, he went to work. He pulled a thick, yard-long roll of paper out of his office and dragged it into the front yard, then instructed Ceony to get so many 8?" by 11" and 6" by 6" sheets of paper from the rolls behind his desk. He worked without his board and with a pair of scissors that had materialized from somewhere within his indigo coat. It didn’t take long for Ceony to realize he was changing the wards about the house. Not wanting to interrupt, she sat on the porch with Fennel. When Emery did need a hand, he had Jonto assist him.

He moved with remarkable swiftness, and his work was so intricate and complicated that Ceony wondered if she really could earn her magicianship in the minimum two years, for she obviously had much left to learn. Emery tore here, snipped there, and Folded long fan Folds and quad Folds back and forth in seemingly random places.

When he had finished, he finally addressed Ceony. “Would you go outside the gate and tell me what you see?”

Ceony followed the narrow pathway from the porch to the gate and stepped out onto the lane, passing the perimeter of Emery’s paper illusions. Looking back at the cottage, she didn’t see a dark, haunted mansion, but a barren landscape, complete with tumbleweed and cracked, sandy earth. Emery had made the house completely invisible.