The Master Magician

Tracking Zina down proved to be a more complicated task than Ceony had imagined. Being unmarried and having chosen not to further her education outside of secondary school, Zina still lived at home, but she had gone out. No one knew where.

“I don’t know what to do with her, Ceony,” her mother groaned as she poured Ceony a cup of weak tea. “She rarely alerts me when she goes out, and only God knows what she does. Your father is losing hair over it. I’m ready to kick her out!”

Rhonda Twill would never force one of her daughters out of the home, of course, but Ceony understood her mother’s sentiment.

Birds would do no good in locating Zina in such a highly populated area. Instead, Ceony stopped next door to inquire of Mrs. Hemmings, whose daughter was a new friend of Zina’s. Mrs. Hemmings suggested a few places to look, including the Carraways’ residence back in the Mill Squats.

The sun had risen to noon by the time Ceony arrived in her old neighborhood. Fortunately Megrinda Carraway, Zina’s on-and-off friend and two years Ceony’s junior, happened to be home.

“She’s probably out with Carl and Sam,” Megrinda said, leaning against the door frame of the squat house as she twisted a lock of umber hair around her finger. It didn’t look as though she’d bothered to get ready for the day, save for changing from a sleeping gown to a faded yellow sundress.

“A tall fellow with sandy-colored hair and a cleft in his chin?” Ceony asked.

Megrinda nodded. “That’s Carl. Sam’s his little brother. He’s a real bugger, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Ceony did mind but saw no use in mentioning it.

“They usually hang out by the theatre in Parliament Square or the Maple By.”

Ceony furrowed her brow. “The saloon?”

Megrinda smiled. “Yeah.” She eyed Ceony, head to foot to head. “Even you’d get some attention there.”

Inhaling deeply to prevent a huff, Ceony thanked Megrinda for her help and had her buggy drive her to Parliament Square.

She first checked the small road where she’d run into Zina before, but there was no sign of her sister. She walked around the theatre, even going so far as to ask a man at the ticket counter if he’d seen anyone meeting Zina’s description, but he hadn’t. Ceony walked by the rows of shops near the Parliament building, peeking into their windows, before finally giving up and making her way to the saloon. Despite having come to terms with her hair color years ago, she found herself wishing it were a less noticeable shade. She didn’t need rumors of intemperance to be added to the chatter about her relationship with Emery. Maybe she should just hug a “Conceal” spell about her person and walk invisibly through the streets. If only she had brought a sheet of paper large enough.

God had mercy on her, for when she stepped into the saloon, too dimly lit to encourage good behavior, she spied Zina only moments after being assaulted with the smell of cigar smoke. Someone whistled; Ceony didn’t look to see if it had been directed at her. She trudged up to the high table where Zina stood with a cigarette perched in her fingers. Carl sat next to her, turning an empty glass over in his hands. There was no sign of Sam.

“Hello, sister.”

Zina looked up at her, and for a moment her face flashed pale, but she hid her reaction so swiftly Ceony wondered if she’d imagined it. Her sister’s eyes darkened and her brows tightened. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Ceony sighed. “Spoken like a true lady. I need to speak to you, and I’d like to do it outside of this . . . establishment. Preferably before I start to smell like the fag in your hand.”

Carl stood. “I know you. Older sister?” He didn’t ask it in a friendly tone.

Keeping calm, as Delilah had always complimented her for doing, Ceony pulled a sheet of paper and her Smelted scissors from her purse and set the supplies on the table, focusing on them and not Carl. “I believe my use of the term sister would say that much. Elder sister, which is why I don’t want Zina in a place like this with a man like you. If you’ll excuse us.”

Carl snorted. “Shove off.”

Ceony had expected he’d say something of the like. Without so much as glancing at him, she cut her squares and, after pulling out a pencil, quickly doodled on their corners before returning the pencil and scissors to her bag. She whispered “Adhere” to one of her squares.

“Send me a letter if you want to talk,” Zina said, puffing around the fag. She didn’t seem to be enjoying it much, stupid girl. “Your fancy mail birds. Or have your blighter make one for you.”

Carl grabbed Ceony’s upper arm. “Time to go, sweets.”