The Paper Magician

“But you can’t die!” Ceony cried, and Mg. Thane didn’t so much as flinch at the volume, or at the tear that struck him on the bridge of his nose. He didn’t seem aware of her at all. “You have too much to teach me! And you’re too nice to die!”


He made no response.

Gently setting his head down, Ceony stood and retreated to the front room, stepping over debris and wiping away tears that refused to stop running from her eyes. She took a pillow from the couch and a blanket from a chest shoved behind it and tried to make Mg. Thane as comfortable as possible, for she dared not try to move him. Fennel sat by his side, still whining and wagging his tail anxiously behind him.

Two hours after sunset, three people climbed their way over the rubble-filled hallway and into the dining room. Ceony knew all three, if two only from memory. Mg. John Katter, a Smelter, and Mg. Alfred Hughes, the Siper, both sat on the Magicians’ Cabinet—Katter for Agriculture and Hughes for Criminal Affairs. Mg. Aviosky stood among them.

Ceony, who had cried herself sore and dry, retold the story with every detail she could muster, including her reading on Mg. Thane with the fortuity box. She wondered if, perhaps, she had mistakenly willed Lira’s appearance, and that this was all her fault.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mg. Aviosky assured her as Magicians Katter and Hughes studied Mg. Thane lying on the floor by the light of four candles. “The only one who can manipulate Emery Thane’s future is Emery Thane himself.”

Mg. Hughes hovered over Mg. Thane for some time, prodding his neck and chest with rubber gloves. Ceony knew he was a Siper, and she wondered, briefly, if the gloves were enchanted, especially since he tucked the pair into his coat pocket instead of tossing them in the trash. “It’s Excision work all right,” he said in low tones, “and powerful at that. I thought the wards would keep them from coming here, Lira especially.”

“Wards?” Ceony asked, heart thumping. “What wards? Why would she hurt Magician Thane? Who is she?”

Mg. Hughes frowned and stroked his short, white beard. Mg. Aviosky put a hand on Ceony’s shoulder and said, “Perhaps you should go to bed, Miss Twill. You’ve had a hard day.”

“No!” Ceony cried. “You have to let me stay here with him. You have to let me help!”

Mg. Aviosky frowned, and in the dim lighting it made her look much older, and much taller. “You may no longer be a pupil at Tagis Praff, Miss Twill, but you are still under the board’s jurisdiction. Go upstairs and get some rest. It is not a request. I will discuss matters further with you in the morning.”

Ceony’s skeleton slumped within her skin. She stepped away from Mg. Hughes so she could see Mg. Thane on the floor. His eyes were closed and his breathing sounded even, albeit faint. Mg. Katter scribbled something in a notepad beside him.

Clutching her hands over her breast, Ceony stepped past Mg. Thane, watching him, and took to the stairs. Mg. Hughes shut the door behind her, but she knew he didn’t lock it, since he wouldn’t have the key to do so.

Hesitating for a moment, Ceony tromped up the stairs and to her bedroom door, where she then slipped off her shoes and carefully, very carefully, snuck her way back downstairs, skipping the squeaky ninth step.

She squatted on the first stair, shying away from the thin light filtering through the door’s keyhole, and listened.

“. . . getting close,” Mg. Hughes’s voice said quietly. “Emery’s the one who tipped us off for the Lillith capture, if you remember. That was less than two months ago.”

“But have there been attempts on the other members?” Mg. Aviosky said, sounding very worried. More worried than Ceony had ever heard her sound.

“Magician Karl Tode was killed yesterday morning in a similar manner,” Mg. Hughes replied. “A hunter, like Emery. But it wasn’t Lira’s handiwork. She’s . . . much cleaner than her accomplices.”

Mg. Katter said, “But that’s it. Nothing else since they took out Piper last year. Don’t you remember what Gabon Suter said when we arrested him? Reeling around in his chair like a madman . . . ‘We’ll get the rest. Hunt us down like animals, but we’ll turn on you . . .’?”

“It could just be a personal vendetta in this case,” Mg. Aviosky said. “Unless my information on their relationship isn’t accurate.”

“?‘I’m leaving,’?” Mg. Hughes said, repeating the words Ceony had related to him, “?‘and I’m taking you with me.’ That’s all she said. No letters, no ceremony. I know this woman, Patrice. She wouldn’t just do the deed for revenge and not make a show of it, unless she did so outside of Miss Twill’s witness.”

“Perhaps,” Mg. Katter cut in, “she’s finally gotten smart. In and out, job done.”

Mg. Hughes said, “No. Not her.” He paused. “She knows Emery is critical to the syndicate, they all do. He’s personally invested in it. That, and she’s always kept a . . . keen . . . interest in him.”

Syndicate? Ceony thought. Her legs began to cramp, but she dared not move, not yet. Excisioners, and a syndicate?