The Glass Magician

The Burst spell exploded, its light reflecting through the enchanted mirrors, incinerating the Gaffer’s copies of himself.

Ceony ducked down, and the real Grath emerged from another mirror on the east side of the barn. He threw his dagger right at Ceony—

And it ripped through paper.

Grath, now unarmed, watched with a pale expression as Ceony’s paper doll—now torn from nose to collar—lost its color and drifted to the ground. The Mobility spell she’d placed on the doll earlier had brought it into the barn with Ceony’s second command.

The real Ceony stood and rushed for the doors, her hand searching for her bag, her eyes whipping between two other mirrors.

Grath transported to the one on the left, but Ceony pulled her Ripple spell free. Grath charged, a human bull.

“Ripple!” Ceony commanded the spell as its jellyfish-like folds cascaded downward.

The air around her warped, not unlike the glass of a mirror before transport. Grath wavered in his charge, but not enough. He reached Ceony, pulled back his right fist, and swung.

A sound like thunder echoed through Ceony’s skull, followed by wide streaks of lightning. She landed on the ground hard, the impact jarring up through her tailbone.

Fire burst from her left cheek, just below her eye. The rafters spun around her, this way and that, unsure of their direction.

Then she felt thick fingers ripping the shield chain from her torso. The barn spun harder as one of his hands circled her neck and the other gripped the front of her blouse, hoisting her up. He slammed her against the wall just beside the doors. Splinters dug into her back, and bits of dust sprinkled her shoulders.

Grath held Ceony a few inches above his crown. He squeezed her throat, and Ceony choked for air. He took a second to catch his breath before he said, “Do you know how an Excisioner bonds, Ceony?”

But Ceony couldn’t answer. Grath’s fingertips pressed into her windpipe. Her face grew hot and her cheek throbbed, drumming into her skull.

“I can’t do it yet,” he said, “but I can demonstrate well enough.”

He squeezed harder. Ceony’s feet flailed.

The loud clap of a gunshot rang through the barn, and Ceony fell.

She hit the ground on her knees and gasped, hot air filling her lungs. Grath grunted and staggered back, his huge hands flying to his ribs. Blood poured down the side of his shirt—a graze, but it bled a steady stream.

Ceony gaped at Delilah, who stood beside one of the empty stalls, Ceony’s pistol gripped in her hands.

“Run!” Delilah cried, and Ceony saw that one of her friend’s feet was still inside a rippling mirror. She had found the barn, and just in time.

Ceony jumped to her feet and slammed all her weight into Grath, elbowing his wounded side. The Gaffer staggered back, and Ceony bolted for Delilah.

Delilah slid back through the mirror until only one hand remained above the surface.

“Transport!” Grath shouted from behind her. All the mirrors began again to ripple at once. Grath appeared at the mirror closest to Delilah, still gripping his side, red-faced, breathing hard.

He charged for Ceony.

She wasn’t going to make it.

“Run, Delilah!” she cried, darting away from both her friend and Grath.

The mad Gaffer reached for her.

Digging her heel into the ground, Ceony shifted direction, receiving a painful pop from her ankle in the process.

She dived through another mirror.





CHAPTER 14



CEONY EXPECTED TO REEMERGE somewhere else in the barn, somewhere that would give her a good shot for the door, but when she tripped out of the mirror frame on the other side, she stumbled into near darkness, the smells of wood and rot assailing her.

This wasn’t the barn, but it didn’t matter.

Pushing herself up, Ceony grabbed the frame of the rippling mirror and threw it down with all her might, breaking it into several pieces. The rippling ceased, but Ceony jumped on the larger pieces anyway, splitting them beneath the heels of her shoes.

Wincing, she staggered backward, favoring her right leg. Her left ankle throbbed fiercely, almost as badly as her cheekbone did.

She breathed heavy breaths that echoed through the dark emptiness around her and wheezed like October wind. Ceony coughed, then coughed again, her hand flying to her sore throat. A third cough almost made her retch, but her desperation for air kept the contents of her stomach down. She swallowed twice, still watching the mirror. She had no paper for a blind box. She had nothing at all, not even her pistol. Just an empty bag.

“Oh, Delilah,” she whispered, hoarse. Surely her friend had gotten away in time.

Another swallow, and Ceony finally lifted her eyes, taking in the shadows around her. The stale air felt cool against her sweating skin. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she saw old, taupe-colored walls made of thin wooden boards, a flat ceiling, a wooden floor strewn with mouse droppings. A storage shed of sorts, perhaps. An empty one.