The Paper Magician

She set Bizzy’s collar down. “Not especially. I ate in the buggy.”


“I’ll leave something on the stove for you, then,” he replied, walking back into the hallway. “Do get some rest,” he called, even as his voice faded away. “I have a busy day planned for you tomorrow. We don’t want to let that Tagis Praff work ethic go to waste!”

Ceony glanced to the books on her desk, wondering just what sort of work the paper magician had in store for her. She had heard that many magicians forced their apprentices to do physical labor for their first year to humble them, or perhaps to break them. Ceony prayed that wouldn’t be the case here. Although, she wouldn’t be surprised if Mg. Thane planned to break her mentally first, what with the thickness of those volumes. At least she could be confident that weeding would not be one of her chores—she hadn’t seen a single real flower in the front gardens.

Ceony unpacked the rest of her things, putting her makeup, barrettes, journal, and Bizzy’s collar on the shelves carved into the wall beside the bed. She decided to keep her under-things and pistol in her suitcase, which she shoved beneath the bed. Outside, the sun made its slow descent to the west. Ceony would have to see to getting a clock in her room, if Mg. Thane granted her any wages. She would have to ask about that in the morning.

Sitting on her mattress, Ceony cracked open the well-worn bindings of Astrology for Youth and skimmed the first four chapters, then browsed through the figures in Anatomy of the Human Body, reading the captions beneath images of lungs, kidneys, hearts, and livers. Lying back on her pillow with Theories on Aviation on her stomach, Ceony pondered paper snow until she drifted into a hazy slumber, where she dreamed of enchanted cannons and the other spells she could have learned, had Mg. Aviosky only let her become a Smelter.



Ceony woke with a start, though she could not remember why. Perhaps she had dreamed of falling, a nightmare she had at least once every other week since the age of eleven, when she had toppled off a dapple mare in her uncle’s cousin’s backyard. The sun had disappeared entirely from her window. If she pressed her face against the glass, she could spy the tip of the three-quarters moon above her. It was very late, indeed—perhaps an hour past midnight.

Stomach growling, Ceony blinked sleep from her eyes, stood, and adjusted her skirt, which had turned about her sideways. She also rebraided her hair over her left ear, for it surely looked a mess, not that anyone would be up to see it. Not that anyone lived in the cottage but Mg. Thane and his animated skeleton-butler.

After making her way down to the kitchen by candlelight—it felt strange to wander a place entirely dark, as Tagis Praff always had those new electric bulbs lighting the hallways, or a fire magician keeping lanterns lit—Ceony found a saucepan and bowl sitting atop the stove. The saucepan held half-stale rice, and the bowl had been filled with what looked like some form of preserved tuna. She shook her head. Was this what Mg. Thane ate normally, or was this what he served to guests? For if rice and tuna was his for-guests meal, Ceony couldn’t imagine what the man ate when he dined alone. Perhaps Mg. Aviosky had assigned her here merely to ensure England’s oddest paper magician got some decent nutrition and didn’t wither away, leaving the country with only eleven paper magicians instead of twelve. Ceony would have to inspect the cupboards tomorrow to see just what Mg. Thane had stocked.

For now, however, she found a bowl and scooped up some cold rice, but left the tuna. She took two steps back toward her room when she heard something subtle—a drawer closing, perhaps. Curious, Ceony shoved a spoonful of rice into her mouth and tiptoed through the dining room and kitchen before spying a line of light coming from the hallway. The door on the left—her right—specifically. The study.

Ceony fed herself another spoonful. What sorts of hobbies did this man keep to be awake so late? The idea of him meddling with the dark arts almost made her laugh, but a good swallow prevented that. Ceony had a hard time imagining Mg. Thane, regardless of his level of madness, dabbling in shadow work or Excision, the forbidden magic that used human flesh as a conduit.

A shiver crept up her neck as she recalled what Mg. Phillips, her History of Magic Meddling teacher, had said about Excision:

“Materials magic can only be performed through manmade materials, of course, but someone many, many years ago concluded that because humans begot humans, people were also manmade, and thus the dark arts began. Now, turn to page one twenty-six in your text—”