The Master Magician

Ceony jerked back one of the two chairs at the breakfast table, sat, and dropped her ledger on the table’s glass surface. She opened it to the first page. Shut it. Opened it and turned to her notes on starlights. Flipped a few pages ahead and grabbed a pencil.

She held it over the paper, intending to pen a note to Emery, but she couldn’t focus on that, either. What good would it do to write him a note in anger? Anyway, she knew he’d tell her to stay—if Pritwin would let her, at any rate.

Groaning, Ceony shut the ledger once more and leaned back in the chair. She would never pass at this rate. Mg. Bailey had utterly shattered her ability to concentrate.

Leaning back, Ceony stared at the ceiling and listened to her own breathing, waiting as it gradually slowed. Her neck hurt by the time she straightened.

She turned in response to a soft tapping at her bedroom window.

Ceony released a long breath, which contorted her lips into a smile. Perfect timing, she thought, rising from her seat. She couldn’t run crying into Emery’s arms, but his encouraging words always did wonders for her spirit.

She opened her window, expecting a small paper butterfly or glider, but the crumpled spell that fell over the windowsill had not been crafted by Emery’s hands, but her own.

In her surprise, Ceony let the window fall shut. She scooped the red songbird into her palms. Rain had crinkled its pointed wings, and wind had bent and weakened its beak and tail. Dirt smudged the bright-crimson paper, making it look rusty.

Ceony smoothed the edges of the spell in an attempt to coax it to life, barely breathing as she did so. This songbird was one of four she had Folded in Gosport during her search for Saraj. How long had it spent scouring England for him? How long had it spent searching for her?

What had it found?

It was probably something inconsequential, like the enclave, but she had to know. “Can you show me where?” she asked the weakened spell.

The songbird hopped limply in her hands and toppled over against her fingers.

She pressed her lips together. The spell would never have the strength to fly to its destination, however near or far it might be. Ceony didn’t think it could take to the air again at all, not with damage of this extent. She might not be able to follow it anyway. And she knew no way to transfer the knowledge of one spell to another—she couldn’t Fold a second bird.

She chewed on the edge of her tongue for a long moment, then remembered the technical library.

Maps, she thought. Mg. Bailey had huge ones. It might be enough.

Holding her breath, Ceony dug out the mimic spell she’d shared with Mg. Aviosky. Perhaps the Gaffer had written back with news. If Criminal Affairs had a good lead on Saraj, there would be no need for her to follow up.

She found the spell. Blank.

Pinching the wings of the fatigued bird in her fingers, Ceony abandoned her studies and hurried to the technical library, trying her hardest not to run.





CHAPTER 10




MUTED LIGHT FROM the setting sun streamed into the library through its west-facing windows, making the book-lined walls look almost as rusty as the Folded songbird in Ceony’s hands. Her footsteps sounded especially loud to her ears, and the creaking of the library doors as she closed them threatened to give her away.

Not give me away, she reminded herself. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

Yet.

Her eyes scanned the tall set of drawers, which were bound to contain maps, but the ones hanging on the walls would be the true prize. On the left side of the library door hung a world map with several red pins marking cities in the eastern United States. The wall to the right of the doors displayed a large map of Great Britain, free of pins save for a yellow one marking Edinburgh, Scotland.

England stood almost as tall as Ceony herself. Perfect.

She cupped the red songbird in her hands and approached the map. “Can you tell me where you saw whatever it is you saw?” she asked.

The spell hopped weakly in her hands.

Pressing her lips together, Ceony eyed the map and the tacks that held it in place on the wall. The bird was too weak to float on its own for long. She set down the songbird on the drawers and grabbed one side of the map, freeing several tacks. She did the same on the other side until the wide, thick paper tumbled to the floor.

She laid it out flat and set the songbird atop it.

“Show me,” she pressed.

The weak spell hopped once in place, then teetered onto one of its damaged wings. Ceony set it upright. It hopped down, moving toward London before it tumbled over a second time. Ceony righted it again.

The bird made its way to Reading in Berkshire and stopped.

Ceony scooped the spell into her cold hands and leaned in close to the map, pushing the tip of her right index finger into the circle marking Reading. “So close,” she whispered. The words sent gooseflesh coursing down her arms. Her spine turned rigid.