The Master Magician

Bennet seemed to relax a bit. “I suppose that’s true. But I would have gone with you.”


“I appreciate it.” She yawned. “I guess I need a bit of rest, though. It was a long trip, once you add everything up.”

“Can I bring you breakfast?”

“I’m all right,” she assured him. She offered a last smile before heading down the hall and up the two flights of stairs to her bedroom, where she’d left the window open. She searched the sill, the brick outside, and the rest of her room for a message from Emery, but found none.

Her ribs squeezed in. Since arriving at Mg. Bailey’s home, Emery had sent her a message every day, even if just a brief note. Why hadn’t he last night? Even a vengeful Excisioner couldn’t have stopped yesterday evening’s letter.

She rubbed sleep from her eyes and pinched phosphorus and glass on her necklace before heading into the lavatory next door. Now a Gaffer, Ceony traced the boundaries of the mirror there and sought out the mirror in the lavatory of Emery’s home, which she had previously named “Cottage One.” She used one spell to spy into the room, ensuring its vacancy, and a second spell to initiate a transport.

The glass rippled, a liquid portal, and Ceony passed through.





CHAPTER 12




IT FELT LIKE AGES since Ceony had left the cottage, though in truth less than a week had passed.

She stepped down into the sink and leapt onto the lavatory floor, then peered back into the mirror to adjust her blouse and hair. She’d tell Emery she’d come in through the front door after taking a buggy to the house—she still had the key.

Ceony made her way down the hall, peeking briefly into her room. The bed had been remade, and she smiled. Emery’s odd knack for tidiness had him folding and tucking blanket corners as though crafting a spell, and while he had demonstrated to Ceony how to properly make a bed, she’d never taken the time to mimic the art. She often kept the door to her room closed just so Emery wouldn’t be tempted to rearrange her things, but with her out of the house, there was nothing to stop him.

He must be bored.

She passed her room and stuck her head into the library, but the paper magician wasn’t there. The table and telegraph had both been moved to the right of the window, however. Terribly bored, then.

Across the hall, she knocked softly on Emery’s bedroom door. When she didn’t get a response, she pushed it open. The room, cluttered yet neat, lay empty before her.

She stepped back into the hall and opened the door to the stairs that led to the third floor. “Emery?” she called. She listened for a response but received none. Nor did she hear any shuffling or footsteps.

Her heart beat a little quicker. “You’re being paranoid,” she murmured to herself. Ceony retreated down the hall and took the stairs to the first floor.

He wasn’t in the dining room or kitchen, and Ceony noticed the distinct lack of noise in the cottage, like the building itself had settled into a deep, snoreless slumber.

Her fingers danced over her necklace as she moved to the front of the house, changing her material allegiance from glass to fire. Pyre magic was by far the most aggressive of the materials magics. Being armed with it—and matches from the stove to provide her with a flame whenever she needed one—made Ceony feel a little more powerful, a little safer.

She checked the office and the front room, the front yard and backyard, but Emery was in none of them. Even Jonto had been ceased. He’d left the house, then. He hadn’t mentioned any plan to go away.

Uneasy, Ceony went back to the magician’s bedroom and checked his closet. His magician’s uniform hung there, so he hadn’t left on any formal business. Perhaps he’d gone to the market for groceries, but Emery hated that chore and would hire a runner to do it for him if at all possible.

Ceony scanned his dresser, his nightstand, his bookshelves. She saw no sign of her Folded birds. She opened a few drawers and even glanced under the bed. Where did he keep them? Or had he thrown them away? But Emery wouldn’t toss her notes to him, would he?

She frowned, but thoughts of Saraj pushed missish worries away. Could he have come for Emery?

She searched the rooms again, one by one, until she made it back to the front door. No signs of blood or struggle, no signs of a breakin. Becoming a Gaffer again, Ceony used a piece of glass from her purse to magnify the kitchen and dining room floor, searching for anything—a drop of missed blood, a piece of Saraj’s hair, perhaps. Nothing. She even did a reflection spell on the lavatory mirror to see what had happened in that room over the past day—that is, until the mirror displayed Emery undressing. She broke the spell and left the lavatory with red cheeks.