The Master Magician

The words summoned the man sitting beside Ceony, dressed in the light-gray uniform of a metals magician. He left Ceony alone in a row of four chairs.

She felt eyes on her but couldn’t see into the audience for the bright Pyre lights lining the stage. She knew where the watchers sat, though, having spied them from behind the red velvet curtains before the ceremony. Her mother, father, sisters, and brother occupied the second row in the middle set of seats. Emery sat beside Mg. Aviosky in the first row in the leftmost seats. She wondered what they thought of her, sitting up here.

“Magician Ceony Maya Twill, Folder, District Fourteen.”

Magician. The word expanded inside her, spreading a sugary warmth to her fingers and feet. Her legs, half-numb, managed to pick her up off her chair. Her white skirt fluttered about her ankles, and the silver buttons of her blazer glimmered in the enchanted light. She moved across the stage toward the podium that bore the magician’s seal on its face.

Tagis Praff extended his hand. Ceony didn’t remember lifting hers to meet it, but suddenly the man’s fingers were clasped around hers. In his other hand he held a crisp white certificate, lined with gold leaf and signed in dark ink.

Its printed letters read her name.

Magician. She had finally made it.

The applause sounded louder than before, as though it came from all sides. As though it poured from the ceiling and bubbled up from the floor. Ceony’s hand closed on the black frame embellishing her certificate. Magician Ceony Maya Twill, Folder, District Fourteen.

She shook Tagis Praff’s hand with renewed vigor, blinking tears from her eyes.

A few choice words from Tagis Praff closed the ceremony. The Pyre lights dimmed, and folk began to rise from their seats. Ceony hurried down the stage stairs. Her foot had not firmly touched the carpet before her father’s broad arms clasped about her. He swung her in a circle, laughing heartily in her ear.

“That’s my girl!” he chortled. “A real magician. A Folder!” He set her down and plopped heavy hands on her shoulders. “Look at her, Rhonda, all grown up and working magic.”

Ceony’s mother dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief and tugged Ceony from her father’s grip, then kissed her on the cheek. “I’m so, so proud of you,” she croaked. “You’re really making something of yourself.”

“She’s made something,” her father corrected.

Ceony grinned until her cheeks hurt and puffed her chest with the praise.

“Ceony!” Margo, Ceony’s youngest sibling, called, tugging at the fine white wool of Ceony’s skirt. “This means you’ll make us a paper house!”

Ceony laughed. “Why would anyone want to live in a paper house?”

Margo crossed her eyebrows, off-put by the question.

“Nice work, sis,” Zina said from behind Margo. She clutched a sketchbook to her chest and eyed Emery warily, tracing his person from foot to head. Ceony didn’t know what to make of that, but she was relieved Zina had come. “Not that I’m going to love trying to live up to this.”

“Oh, Zina,” Ceony’s mother sighed.

“What?” Zina asked. “I’m congratulating her. It’s called satire, Mom.”

“Can we get cake now?” Marshall, Ceony’s brother, asked, his eyes following the lines of people exiting the hall. “You said we’d get cake, right? I’m hungry.”

Ceony didn’t hear her father’s reply; a warm hand on her shoulder drew her attention away from her family and to Emery. He wore a pale button-up shirt and well-ironed slacks instead of his magician’s uniform, and had forgone the usual long coat.

He cupped her face, said, “You are magnificent,” and kissed her on the forehead. She felt herself flush under the crystal light of his gaze . . . and under the gaze of her parents. She glanced to them, but her mother appeared unsurprised and her father had busied himself with negotiating desserts with Marshall. Zina had already headed for the exit.

Don’t worry about what they think anyway, she thought to herself, allowing her smile to fully encompass her mouth. What any of them think. This is right. This is where I’m meant to be.

Emery entwined the fingers of one hand with hers and pulled her close so he could whisper in her ear, “No need to be bashful. You’re not my apprentice anymore.”

Ceony laughed softly, trying to rub pink from her cheeks. “I’m almost disappointed,” she murmured back.

Her father refocused on her and said, “All right, Ruffio’s Bakery it is, unless you’d like something different?”

Ceony shook her head. “Sounds wonderful.” She turned to Emery, hopeful, and said, “Will you come? It can’t be too crowded.”

“I can bear it,” he replied, a smile dancing across his lips. He lifted Ceony’s knuckles to his mouth and kissed them.

Ceony beamed. From the corner of her vision she spied Mg. Aviosky speaking to an unfamiliar man. The conversation ended and the man walked away, leaving the Gaffer free.