The Master Magician

She adjusted herself on the chair. I haven’t been in contact with Magician Aviosky. And Emery . . . If Magician Hughes did update him, would he be willing to share bad news?

She turned back one page in her ledger, where a creased magenta paper poked out from the ledger’s binding, having once held the form of a butterfly.

Thinking of you. Study hard, and don’t let them get to you.

She wondered if “them” included Bennet, or if Emery had been referring to the entire education board. Ceony wasn’t sure how many of its members would be present for her actual test.

Letting out a long breath, Ceony flipped the page back over and examined her notes, which included drawings of stars with rounded corners attached to V-shaped bird wings. #44. Something to guide your way through the dark. She had decided to make starlights that would fly a step ahead of her when she moved. She had them half-Folded back in her room but had taken a break from her work after receiving a paper bat from Mg. Bailey, requesting her presence at Bennet’s morning lesson.

She tuned in to the review for a few seconds. Pointless. Perhaps Mg. Bailey intended to waste her time so she wouldn’t have a chance to finish her test preparation.

Bennet glanced in her direction, but Ceony averted her gaze to the window. After spending half a minute staring at the roof to the unused servants’ quarters, Ceony kept her visage fixed on her ledger for the rest of the lesson.

She reread Emery’s note. It made her chest hurt.

“Miss Twill.”

She glanced up. Mg. Bailey stood at the end of the table where Bennet had sat perched moments before—Bennet himself had left—and smoothed out a long, rectangular piece of white paper across it. He then stood erect, folded his forearms behind his back, and gestured to the table with his narrow chin.

“Let’s have a test of our own, shall we?” he said.

Ceony set her ledger down on the chair and stood. We’ll have a test of our own in two and a half weeks. Or have you forgotten? She approached the table.

“Tell me,” the Folder began, “how are your skills with paper illusions?”

“Were they not satisfactory, I wouldn’t be here. Sir.”

“Hmm. Show me.” He gestured to the paper.

Ceony examined the paper before her, thinking of the party decorations she had done for Mrs. Holloway. So long ago . . . yet it wasn’t. Did Mg. Bailey ever send Bennet on such errands? Ceony couldn’t imagine the Folder taking time out of his schedule for that sort of work. Then again, she couldn’t imagine anyone asking him for it. Textbooks, indeed.

“Did you want something in particular?” she asked.

Mg. Bailey walked around the table, taking up the same, slow march he had used during Bennet’s lesson. “No,” he said, “but try to impress me.”

Ceony took a deep breath and held it in her lungs for several seconds. She stared at the paper. What would impress an arrogant man like Mg. Bailey? The illusion of a French dinner? A peek into a junglescape, like the design she’d created for Mrs. Holloway?

She thought of the park Bennet had mentioned, the one with the duck pond. She’d never done an illusion like that, and the prospect of trying it without testing it first made her nervous. But if she could turn the tabletop into fish-filled water and lily pads, it would undoubtedly be impressive. Emery would think so, anyway.

She moved to the far left side of the paper and picked up one corner but hesitated before Folding it. Mg. Bailey’s eyes pinned her to the floor—she could feel his gaze on the back of her neck, but she ignored him.

The problem is that he can take a walk any time he wants and see a pond, she thought, chewing on her lower lip. I need to do something different.

She mulled, considering.

Mg. Bailey sighed. “To start, you should—”

“I’m merely giving my creativity a moment to work,” Ceony interrupted, “but thank you for the willingness to assist.”

After another moment, she began to Fold.

She started with the corners, pinching them, twisting one to add depth to the illusion. She grabbed a pencil from the desk so she could draw the spell’s shapes, words, and other symbols that would contort the illusion into looking the way she wanted. She used a great deal of guessing in the appearance of the illusion—telescopes, enchanted or not, could only reveal so much—but hopefully that guessing would make the final result more “impressive.”

Mg. Bailey watched her silently, thankfully withholding commentary. Ceony focused on her growing spell, trying not to wonder at what the Folder might be thinking.

A fan Fold, another symbol, and the long parchment darkened and speckled with spots of white. A mutted dog-ear Fold on the bottom corner made the specks rotate in slow motion. A whispered instruction added even more depth.

More words, more shapes hidden by blackness.