The Master Magician

THAT NIGHT, HOVERING over the breakfast table beside two thick candles, Ceony rubbed the sprout of a headache from her right temple. A ledger sat open under one wrist, while the list from Mg. Bailey was sprawled beneath the other.

#24. Something to cross a river.

She chewed on the end of her pencil. Surely she wouldn’t have to physically cross a river! As far as she knew, the magician’s test wasn’t mobile . . . but then again, she knew never to expect the expected when it came to magicians, especially Folders. Emery had taught her that, and on her very first day as his apprentice, no less.

Something to cross a river. A shiver coursed up one arm, across her shoulders, and down the other. Would they make her demonstrate the device? Either way, she couldn’t let her hydrophobia thwart her chances of winning her certificate. She just couldn’t.

Sighing, Ceony scanned down the list to numbers thirty-two and thirty-three. Something to cause a storm and Something to repel the rain. All three items were water-related. The storm wasn’t specific, though. Perhaps she could create the illusion of a storm, or Fold dozens of water-droplet-shaped spells that could fall from the ceiling like paper snowflakes.

As for repelling the rain—real rain, she assumed—Ceony’s mind warped back to the night she and Emery had fallen into the river in their buggy, and the “Conceal” spell Emery had used. It had taken a bowed shape, similar to an umbrella. Such a spell, modified, could potentially repel rain for a short time.

Saraj.

Ceony shook her head. He, of course, had caused the accident, but she couldn’t worry about him now. She had a test to focus on—a test that Mg. Bailey apparently didn’t believe she could pass.

He’s still in England, a voice in her head insisted.

Ceony set her pencil down and rubbed the base of her hands into her eyes. Focus!

A knock sounded at her door.

Ceony lowered her hands as Fennel’s tail shot straight into the air in excitement. He yipped his whispery bark and hurried for the door.

Ceony almost stopped the paper dog, but surely Mg. Bailey wouldn’t come all this way to speak to her. And about what? Certainly not to apologize.

“Come in,” she said.

The door creaked open and Bennet poked his head in. His blue-eyed gaze jumped to Fennel almost instantly. “Oh my!” he said, crouching down and prodding the dog’s ears. When he realized they wouldn’t fall off or crumple under his touch, he let himself get a bit rougher. “This is the dog!”

“Fennel,” Ceony said with a smile. “He’s been aching for company.”

Fennel yipped and put his front paws on Bennet’s knees, licking his hands with that paper tongue. Ceony hoped it didn’t leave any paper cuts in its wake, as it had been known to do.

After a moment Bennet stood. “Do you mind?”

Ceony waved him forward.

Bennet shut the door to prevent Fennel’s escape, glanced around for a moment, then took the chair opposite Ceony, though there wasn’t an inch of free space on the breakfast table. “I wanted to come by and apologize for Magician Bailey.”

“He can’t apologize for himself?”

“He’s just got some chipped shoulders, if you know what I mean.”

Fennel sniffed about the newcomer’s shoes for a moment before occupying himself with something on the other side of the bed.

“I have a vague idea,” Ceony said. She knew the man had been picked on in school—Emery being one of his tormenters—but that had been years ago. Surely he hadn’t held on to such old grievances for so long! “But it gives him no excuse. If nothing else, I’m a lady.”

“He’s just . . . different, I guess,” Bennet said. “I had a hard time adjusting, too, but after a month or so I started to understand him. We get on well now.”

Ceony shut her ledger. “He treats you like a butler.”

“No,” Bennet said, “not really. I mean . . . please and thank you aren’t foremost in his vocabulary, but he means them. Implies them. If he asks you to do a small task, there’s no harm in doing it, and he’ll be more pleasant afterward. That’s one rule I’ve learned.”

Despite being a “lady,” Ceony snorted and leaned back in her chair. “Rule? What other rules should I be aware of?”

“Well . . .” Bennet paused, thinking. “It’s best not to bother him in the morning if you need something . . . and requests are best made through paper mail. You know, sending a crane to his office.”

“But we’re in the same house!”

“A big house, but it takes the edge off,” Bennet explained. “You know, lets him mull it over before answering. He doesn’t like to be surprised, and he’s more positive when given a chance to mull.”