The Master Magician

Ceony smiled as she reread the message, rubbing her thumb over the coppery mark where Emery had smudged the word young.

Abandoning the table, Ceony pulled her pink lipstick from its place in the set of drawers and carefully smoothed it on, then pressed her lips to the center of another square of paper.

She penned Only yours on the sheet before Folding it into a bird and whispering, “Breathe.”



It appeared that Mg. Bailey’s hired chef did not report for breakfast, so early the next morning Ceony acquainted herself with the kitchen. The room was enormous, of course, with two ovens and three enchanted iceboxes, a bar with stools, a wine cabinet, and a long, casual table built to hug the far corner. The cupboards all matched the dark wood stain of the floor, and the counters even boasted a small preparation sink in addition to the normal one.

Ceony had started eggs and hollandaise sauce when Bennet, hair still wet from a bath and with newspaper in hand, came in. “I see you’ve situated yourself well,” he said, stifling a yawn with his first two knuckles. He pulled over a stool and sat, spreading the Social News section before him. “What, um, are you making?”

Ceony held up an egg. “Would you like some?”

Bennet’s shoulders sagged as he let out a long sigh. “Yes, please. I’m starving and I love hollandaise.”

So does Emery, Ceony almost said, but she bit back the comment quickly enough. She substituted, “I’ll try not to burn it. Should I make enough for Magician Bailey?”

“Magician Bailey already ate,” sounded a third voice from the hall. Pritwin Bailey walked into the kitchen, well groomed and looking just as pale as he had yesterday, a piece of paper rolled like a scroll in his right hand. His tone was chiding.

“Good morning,” Ceony offered, trying to be pleasant. She needed to make a good impression on the Folder, even if he seemed uninterested in impressing her. “I apologize for not being up earlier.”

Mg. Bailey scoffed. “Does Thane use you as a maid, then? Cooking his meals, cleaning his windows, folding his laundry?”

Ceony almost swallowed her tongue to withhold the retort that tried to slip out. Then, to her dismay, the faintest blush betrayed her—she did do all those things, actually. But that didn’t make her maidly.

“I just wanted to bestow the gesture,” she said. Her voice sounded sweet enough.

“Hmm,” Mg. Bailey replied. He set the rolled-up paper beside the stove. “I’m not one to waste time, Miss Twill. Here is a list of projects you’ll need to complete before I will test you.”

Ceony dared to stop stirring the sauce long enough to unfurl the paper. A cold shock struck her chest. “There has to be fifty or sixty items on this!” she exclaimed, reading over the bizarre requests. #1. Something to open a door. #2. Something that breathes. #14. Something to hide the truth.

“Fifty-eight, specifically,” Mg. Bailey said, his face as stiff as his thin frame. “Standard. I suggest you get started when you’re finished with your . . . gesture.”

Ceony set the list down and stirred her hollandaise before it could stick to the bottom of its pan. “I need to Fold something for each number?”

“It is a Folder’s test, Miss Twill,” Mg. Bailey said while raising his eyebrow. To Bennet, he said, “Your report on chapters fifteen through twenty-one is due at noon.”

“I’ll have it to you,” Bennet said.

“And your lesson at one.”

“Of course.”

Mg. Bailey nodded and turned from the room, not allowing Ceony another second of his time.

Ceony released a grumble and took the saucepan off the stove. Intolerable! I almost don’t blame Emery for picking on him at school.

“Is it done?” Bennet asked excitedly. At least Mg. Bailey’s sharpness didn’t penetrate his apprentice’s good humor.

As Ceony lifted her head from the sauce, however, she glimpsed an article title in the lower-left-hand corner of Bennet’s newspaper: “Magicians’ Cabinet to Rule on Opposite-Sex Apprenticeships.”

“I . . .” she trailed, turning her head to try and read the script, but the letters were too small. “Done enough,” she said. “Could I see that paper for a moment?”

“Uh, sure.”

Abandoning the saucepan, Ceony scooped up the page in question and skimmed the article, pausing on one paragraph in particular:

“It is, in part, a means of decency,” said Mg. Long. “We’ve had several complaints in regards to mixed sexes working together, from apprentices to magicians to even family members. When the ruling is approved, and I believe it will be, any apprenticeships not involving same-sex pairings will be split and reassigned. In today’s England, such measures must be taken before scandal erupts.”