The Paper Magician

The house, its doors and windows still locked from last night, sat quiet enough that if Ceony held her breath, she could hear the library clock ticking in the next room. Fennel had taken to adventuring downstairs, and Ceony had shoved Jonto’s inanimate bones into a closet in the office and left him there. Now the place seemed . . . lifeless.

She glanced down. The words in the papier-maché book blurred in and out. Yawning, she shut both it and the ledger and dropped them onto the floor, hearing a loud thunk in return. She pulled out Anatomy of the Human Body Volume II and flipped to her bookmark halfway through the chapter detailing the cardiovascular system. She stared at a picture of a dissected artery, turned the page, and stared at a diagram of a heart cut longwise to show its four chambers. She read a paragraph and shut the book again.

She heard Fennel climb up the stairs, pause, then climb back down. Eager to get away from her desk, Ceony abandoned her work and went downstairs.

She found Fennel sniffing about the door to Mg. Thane’s office, perhaps smelling Jonto, since Mg. Thane would never leave food sitting out. Ceony opened the door and the paper dog ran in, sniffing as he went. He stood on his hind legs to investigate the paper chains hanging from the window and, as suspected, trotted to the closet to smell after the paper butler.

Ceony glanced to the ivy-covered window. So quiet in the house. So irresponsible for a magician to leave his new apprentice on her own, wasn’t it? She should report it to Mg. Aviosky.

She lowered her gaze to the desk. Might as well take advantage of his absence before I do that, she thought.

The tiniest smile teased her lips as she sat down in Mg. Thane’s desk chair and began opening his drawers, none of which had been locked. She found nothing interesting—a few ledgers of conference notes, spare pens and pencils, a bizarre multipointed paper star that looked like it belonged on the end of a mace. A lint brush, a small sewing kit. Ceony made sure to leave everything straight and tidy before closing each drawer. She had no doubt Mg. Thane would notice a pen knocked a few millimeters out of place.

She reached for the wire note holder, running her fingers over the edge of the thank-you letter she had mailed out over a year ago. Fifteen thousand pounds.

She chewed on her lip, not wanting to dwell on that mystery for the moment. She thumbed through the other letters, reading off names, some preceded by “Mg.” or “Dr.” She spotted one that read “Alfred Hughes.” Thinking of the telegram, she pulled it free, only to discover it was an old Christmas card without a photo. Her memory tickled at her—she’d heard that name before. A Mg. Alfred Hughes sat on the Magicians’ Cabinet, didn’t he? Yes . . . he did. A Siper—a rubber magician. He’d given a speech at Tagis Praff once. Mg. Thane had friends in high places.

Oddly enough, none of the letters read “Thane” on them—none appeared to be from family. Mg. Thane had mentioned being an only child, but what about his parents? His cousins? Surely he had cousins.

She scoured the bookshelves next, finding more textbooks and old novels, ledgers filled from cover to cover. The only thing that stood out was a Granger Academy yearbook dated 1888–1889. Apparently she and Mg. Thane had attended the same secondary school, albeit twelve years apart. Odd that Mg. Aviosky would assign her to a magician so young, but there were few other options for Folders. Perhaps that was why she had sat so rigidly in the buggy.

Fennel pawed at her shoes.

“I know, I have work to do,” Ceony said, suppressing a sigh. She scooped the paper dog into her arms, laughing as he wagged his tail, and carefully pushed Mg. Thane’s chair back under the desk.

She spent the rest of the day Folding frogs and fans, reading more about anatomy than she ever wanted to know, and doodling in the margins of her notes on papier-maché.



When Mg. Thane didn’t return the next day, Ceony began to worry.

She had never considered herself someone prone to worrying, and it seemed almost silly to worry over someone whom she’d only worked with for a short time, let alone someone she hadn’t wanted to work with in the first place, but she worried.

She imagined that flicker in his eyes just before he’d left, thought of the privacy of the telegram. And she worried.

She thought again to contact Mg. Aviosky, but didn’t. What would she say? Today, at least, she had no desire to get Emery Thane in trouble, so she busied herself with chores to take her mind off of things.

She fried fish and chips for lunch, enough for one. She wiped down the countertops and swept out the kitchen. She gathered her laundry to wash it.

Outside her bedroom, Ceony peered down the hallway to Mg. Thane’s bedroom door, which he had left closed. It would be kind to wash his, too, wouldn’t it?