The Master Magician

Ceony pressed her back against the door and slunk down to the floor, shrinking from the windows, breathing hard. She closed her eyes and beat the back of her head against the door’s wood.

On the board now. Does that mean I’ve put myself in his path?

Smelt to hell, I showed him Pyre magic. If Grath ever confided in him . . . Saraj knows what I can do. A man like him would kill for that information. Stupid. Stupid.

Realizing she still held her pistol, Ceony stashed it in her bag before she alarmed anyone. She clasped her Folded songbird and pulled it free, pinching its narrow body in her fingers. She worried that by tracking Saraj down, she may have endangered Emery. Would the Excisioner go after him—after her family—for use as bait or persuasion, or would he head straight for her? She’d likely burned him badly; how easily could he heal himself? Could he come for her tonight?

Fumbling with her limbs, Ceony found her feet and hurried across the room as the piano man began a new tune. She approached a vested man behind a small bar and asked, “Please, is the owner awake?”

The man eyed her. “I’m he. What’s wrong, lass?”

“Do you have a telegraph I could use? It’s urgent.”

Sweat trickled down her back.

“Got rid of it,” he said, leaning his elbows on the bar. “Telephones are the new trend.”

He gestured with a tilt of his head to the upright, black-lacquered telephone at the back of the bar.

“It uses an operator?”

The man nodded. “Go ahead and try it. Will you need a room?”

Ceony didn’t answer but seized the phone and, with evident clumsiness, managed to connect to the local police.

“An Excisioner named Saraj Prendi is in Reading,” she said into the telephone’s mouthpiece. “He’s dangerous, seen by the docks not fifteen minutes ago. Please tell the Magicians’ Criminal Affairs.”

She hung up without leaving her name.



After staying the night acutely awake in the inn lobby in Reading, Ceony used her return train ticket early in the morning, hoping to avoid the notice of watching eyes. She bribed a buggy driver to take her to Mg. Bailey’s with some premade Folded spells, ones that could sell in the market for a decent price. With any luck, Saraj was holed up in Reading, licking his wounds.

Ceony managed to doze in the buggy, even dreamed that her fire spell had riled Saraj enough to scare him from England for good. But when the rough road leading to the Bailey residence woke her, she knew the idea to be only a dream. If anything, she had given Saraj a motive for revenge.

She wondered again if Grath had confided in Saraj about his desire to break his bond. If so, Saraj would know exactly what Ceony had done. No Folder could throw fire like that.

She dragged her heavy feet toward the mansion. Now there was a risk that the secret to bond breaking would fall into the hands of an Excisioner. Still, the Pyre spell had been her only way to escape. It had been that or her life . . . but if it came down to it, she’d die before revealing Grath’s secrets to accessing all materials magics. She wouldn’t let Saraj—or anyone else—use the knowledge for ill.

But I can’t keep everything secret, she thought as she approached the front door. I have to tell Emery the truth. Saraj will think I’m at the cottage. I can’t risk Emery’s life.

She reached for the knob, but the door swung open before her fingers made contact.

Bennet stood on the other side, looking about as tired as she felt, his hair in disarray, his shirt half-tucked.

“Ceony!” he said, half-scolding and half-relieved. “Thank the Lord you made it back!”

Ceony stiffened. “Has Magician Bailey—”

Bennet shook his head. “He hasn’t so much as mentioned your name. He’s in his study doing . . . something.”

The fellow apprentice stood aside to let Ceony in. “So where were you?”

Delilah’s face flashed through Ceony’s mind.

“A cousin of mine got into a bad lot,” she lied. “Gambling . . . He wasn’t specific. But he couldn’t collect enough money and he wound up in a cell, even though he’s only seventeen. Apparently he sent a letter to Magician Thane’s home asking for help—he was too embarrassed to ask his father—and Magician Thane sent it to me in a bird.”

Bennet rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s awful. How much was it?”

“Not too much,” Ceony said, pasting on a smile. “He was two pounds short.”

Bennet frowned. “I’m sure Magician Bailey could reimburse you if you explained—”

“Oh no,” Ceony said, dropping her voice. She glanced down the hall to ensure the Folder was nowhere in sight. “He’s only told me. John, that is. My cousin. He made me promise not to breathe a word of it to anyone. His reputation, you see. He wants to be a journalist, and they can get picked apart. He needs a clean slate. I shouldn’t have even told you.”

“But to have a woman go out in the middle of the night—”

“I’m a magician,” Ceony said with a wry grin. “Almost, at least. I can get out of tight spots, even if it’s just with paper.”