The Master Magician (12 page)

She penned
Only yours
on the sheet before Folding it into a bird and whispering, “Breathe.”

It appeared that Mg. Bailey’s hired chef did not report for breakfast, so early the next morning Ceony acquainted herself with the kitchen. The room was enormous, of course, with two ovens and three enchanted iceboxes, a bar with stools, a wine cabinet, and a long, casual table built to hug the far corner. The cupboards all matched the dark wood stain of the floor, and the counters even boasted a small preparation sink in addition to the normal one.

Ceony had started eggs and hollandaise sauce when Bennet, hair still wet from a bath and with newspaper in hand, came in. “I see you’ve situated yourself well,” he said, stifling a yawn with his first two knuckles. He pulled over a stool and sat, spreading the Social News section before him. “What, um, are you making?”

Ceony held up an egg. “Would you like some?”

Bennet’s shoulders sagged as he let out a long sigh. “Yes, please. I’m starving and I love hollandaise.”

So does Emery
, Ceony almost said, but she bit back the comment quickly enough. She substituted, “I’ll try not to burn it. Should I make enough for Magician Bailey?”

“Magician Bailey already ate,” sounded a third voice from the hall. Pritwin Bailey walked into the kitchen, well groomed and looking just as pale as he had yesterday, a piece of paper rolled like a scroll in his right hand. His tone was chiding.

“Good morning,” Ceony offered, trying to be pleasant. She needed to make a good impression on the Folder, even if he seemed uninterested in impressing her. “I apologize for not being up earlier.”

Mg. Bailey scoffed. “Does Thane use you as a maid, then? Cooking his meals, cleaning his windows, folding his laundry?”

Ceony almost swallowed her tongue to withhold the retort that tried to slip out. Then, to her dismay, the faintest blush betrayed her—she
did
do all those things, actually. But that didn’t make her maidly.

“I just wanted to bestow the gesture,” she said. Her voice sounded sweet enough.

“Hmm,” Mg. Bailey replied. He set the rolled-up paper beside the stove. “I’m not one to waste time, Miss Twill. Here is a list of projects you’ll need to complete before I will test you.”

Ceony dared to stop stirring the sauce long enough to unfurl the paper. A cold shock struck her chest. “There has to be fifty or sixty items on this!” she exclaimed, reading over the bizarre requests.
#1. Something to open a door. #2. Something that breathes. #14. Something to hide the truth.

“Fifty-eight, specifically,” Mg. Bailey said, his face as stiff as his thin frame. “Standard. I suggest you get started when you’re finished with your . . . gesture.”

Ceony set the list down and stirred her hollandaise before it could stick to the bottom of its pan. “I need to Fold something for each number?”

“It is a Folder’s test, Miss Twill,” Mg. Bailey said while raising his eyebrow. To Bennet, he said, “Your report on chapters fifteen through twenty-one is due at noon.”

“I’ll have it to you,” Bennet said.

“And your lesson at one.”

“Of course.”

Mg. Bailey nodded and turned from the room, not allowing Ceony another second of his time.

Ceony released a grumble and took the saucepan off the stove.
Intolerable! I almost don’t blame Emery for picking on him at school.

“Is it done?” Bennet asked excitedly. At least Mg. Bailey’s sharpness didn’t penetrate his apprentice’s good humor.

As Ceony lifted her head from the sauce, however, she glimpsed an article title in the lower-left-hand corner of Bennet’s newspaper: “Magicians’ Cabinet to Rule on Opposite-Sex Apprenticeships.”

“I . . .” she trailed, turning her head to try and read the script, but the letters were too small. “Done enough,” she said. “Could I see that paper for a moment?”

“Uh, sure.”

Abandoning the saucepan, Ceony scooped up the page in question and skimmed the article, pausing on one paragraph in particular:

“It is, in part, a means of decency,” said Mg. Long. “We’ve had several complaints in regards to mixed sexes working together, from apprentices to magicians to even family members. When the ruling is approved, and I believe it will be, any apprenticeships not involving same-sex pairings will be split and reassigned. In today’s England, such measures must be taken before scandal erupts.”

Several complaints?
Ceony thought. Surely not about her and Emery. Surely! So few knew. Mg. Aviosky wouldn’t have reported
anything, would she have? And Ceony knew her mother would never have said a word. She had seemed rather taken with the idea of having a daughter in romantic league with a magician.

She thought of Zina and felt her stomach sink. Surely Zina wouldn’t have filed a complaint with the Cabinet . . . and wouldn’t it take more than one complaint to make a ruling, besides? Ceony
had
to believe the best of her sister or go insane imagining the what-ifs. If nothing else, Ceony could take comfort in knowing Zina would likely be too lazy to fill out a report.

How strange it all felt. She and Zina had never been at odds before, not like this.

“What is it?” asked Bennet.

Reassigned
. Ceony frowned. If she didn’t pass her magician’s test in three weeks, she might not be able to continue her tutelage under Emery. Perhaps she wouldn’t even be able to stay in London. There was only one female Folder of whom Ceony knew, and rumor had it she’d moved to the United States.

“Ceony?”

“Oh, sorry.” She handed back the newspaper and passed Bennet a plate so he could serve himself. Bennet inspected the newspaper, probably trying to determine what article had so grasped Ceony’s attention. To avoid conversation, Ceony examined the list Mg. Bailey had given her. After scanning to number fifty-eight, she refocused on the first item:
Something to open a door.

Open a door?
she wondered. As in a paper spell to open a door? But who would craft a spell to turn a handle when it could so easily be done without magic?

I have to pass this test
, she chided herself. The stakes were higher now than ever.

She tapped the corner of the list against her lips. Jonto was capable of opening a door. Not that she had time to construct a paper butler, but it gave her an idea.

#2. Something that breathes
. Any animation would do. She could Fold that in her sleep.

#3. Something to tell a tale
. Story illusion.

#4. Something that sticks.

“Sticks?” she repeated. Something sticky, or something to stick to something else? A throwing star might serve a purpose there . . . but it would be best to come up with multiple solutions. Better to overprepare than be caught off guard. She had a feeling Mg. Bailey wouldn’t give her any clues.

“Hm?” Bennet asked, swallowing a mouthful of egg. He eyed her list. “I don’t think I’m supposed to know anything about that.”

Chewing on her lip, Ceony rolled up the list and stuck it in her skirt pocket. “Let us assume that I’ll be very, very busy while I’m here,” she said.

She eyed the newspaper and wondered if Emery had seen the article, too.

Ceony took the cushioned chair in the corner of the apprentices’ study while Mg. Bailey instructed Bennet in his next Folding lesson. The study was about the size of Emery’s library, which meant it was relatively small for the enormous home. It had a short bookcase half-filled with books, a narrow shelf that appeared to be filled with homework assignments and notebooks, and a row of six desks—far more than necessary—taking up the east wall. A giant, multipaned window comprised the entire north wall, and the west held cubbies stacked with various lengths and thicknesses of paper. Two simple chandeliers hung from the ceiling, both made of glass bulbs filled with Pyre-enchanted fire, much like the streetlamps in downtown London. They would light when the room grew dark, and didn’t require new glass or matches, though a Pyre would need to come
twice a year to rejuvenate their glow. Ceony had learned that from her readings on fire magic.

Her attention wasn’t focused on the lights, however, but on number fourteen on her list of tasks:
Something to hide the truth.
A blind box could work perfectly for that, unless Mg. Bailey expected her to use a nullification spell on a fortuity box. That didn’t require much in the way of preparation, however. Ceony would merely need to command the fortuity box “UnFold” while the fortune-teller used it, and she doubted the test could be that easy.

“It will destroy the paper with random tears,” Mg. Bailey said to Bennet from one side of a cherrywood table. Bennet occupied the other side. They both sat with rigid backs. The “Shred” lesson seemed overly formal, in Ceony’s opinion.

“Observe,” he said, holding up a piece of unused paper. Such a waste.

“Shred,” Mg. Bailey commanded, and the paper tore itself into over a dozen uneven portions. Bennet collected the pieces into a neat pile on the table surface. Once he had finished, Mg. Bailey continued. “It works on various sizes of paper, and on active paper spells—”

Ceony twirled a strand of hair around her finger.
#53. A means of escape
. Emery’s glider immediately came to mind—could she use something that large on her test? She couldn’t see why not, though she had a feeling the items on this list would need to be brought to and used in the test itself, and a glider large enough to carry her would be difficult to transport, especially if she didn’t want it damaged during the trip. Unless she rode in on it . . .

Concealing confetti
, she thought. A trick parlor magicians loved to purchase from Folders—paper confetti that could be thrown in the air to teleport a person a very short distance, so long as it wasn’t through a wall. She’d first encountered the spell in Belgium, when Emery had used it to circumvent Grath. Perhaps that would work.

Too bad I can’t just mirror teleport
, Ceony thought. She fingered the charm necklace hidden beneath the collar of her shirt.

“Miss Twill.”

Mg. Bailey’s sharp use of her name drew Ceony from her thoughts. She lifted her head and dropped her hand from the necklace.

The Folder frowned. “Did you not bring a ledger?”

She blinked. “A ledger?”

“For notes.”

Ceony cast a glance at Bennet, who rubbed the back of his head and avoided eye contact. “Notes on this lesson?”

Mg. Bailey sighed. “Yes, Miss Twill.”

“I know the ‘Shred’ spell, Magician Bailey,” Ceony said.

“And would a review not be beneficial to your magician’s test?”

Ceony felt as though her ribs had turned into vipers and were in the midst of attacking one another. She tried to smooth her eyebrows, which had skewed significantly in response to the Folder’s questions. “I . . . no. I’m quite familiar with the spell and have used it multiple times successfully. Taking notes would be . . . redundant.”

“And what of other spells I may teach today, or tomorrow, hm?” Mg. Bailey asked, his face looking even longer. The corners of his lips drooped into his chin. “Do you feel too experienced to benefit from them?”

A blush threatened to creep into Ceony’s cheeks—or perhaps it was a flush of anger. “I mean no disrespect.”

“Answer the question.”

“Magician Bailey . . .” Bennet whispered, but if the Folder heard his name, he ignored it.

Ceony sat up as straight as her spine would allow. “If I did not feel confident in my knowledge of Folding, I would not be making the preparations for my magician’s test. No, I don’t believe I need a ledger. If by some means you teach something that Magician Thane
has failed to instruct me on in
his
lessons, I will pay rapt attention, I assure you.”

Mg. Bailey snorted. “If Magician Thane believes he can cover every aspect of Folding in two years, he’s deluded.”

The flush made it to Ceony’s face this time. “You’ll have to take that up with the Cabinet, then, Magician Bailey,” she said, each word sticking to her teeth like saltwater taffy. “The education board is the department that deduced a person could earn their magicianship in two years. I’m sure Patrice Aviosky would love to hear your explanation as to why the department is in error.”