The Master Magician (25 page)

Carl grabbed Ceony’s upper arm. “Time to go, sweets.”

Ceony turned to face him, their chests only inches apart, and tucked one of her squares into the front pocket of his trousers. “I am not your ‘sweets,’ Carl,” she said, shaking off his hand and simultaneously throwing the other square with a flick of her wrist. The “Adhere” spell she’d placed on it made it suction tightly to the floor. “And if you touch me again, I’ll have you tossed out. Or, better yet, I’ll do it myself. Affix!”

The bearing square in Carl’s pocket leapt to connect with its partner on the floor, regardless of what—or who—stood in the way. The force of the magic knocked Carl onto the ground and slid him several feet to meet the other paper square.

Zina gaped. “Ceony!”

“Come with me, or I’ll do the same to you,” she snapped, snatching the fag from Zina’s lips. With an uttered “Shred,” the cigarette’s paper tore itself to pieces, leaving a barely smoldering mess on the tabletop.

Having grabbed Zina by the elbow, Ceony dragged her out of the saloon and into the blessedly fresh-smelling sunlight. Fortunately, her sister didn’t resist until they were several paces from the dreaded place’s front doors.

“You’ve got some nerve!” Zina shot.

Ceony brushed her hands over her blouse as though the action could scare away the smell of cigars. “Apparently not as much as you. My affair with an established magician hardly seems notable compared to whatever rubbish you’re up to.”

Zina deflated, leaned against the outside wall of Maple By. “Don’t act like you understand me.”

“Why would I pretend to when I don’t?” she countered. “What has gotten into you? Mother is worried about you, and so am I. Talk to me.”

Zina frowned.

“I don’t see Carl coming to your rescue.”

Rolling her eyes, Zina folded her arms, then unfolded them to flick her black hair behind her shoulders. It fell forward again. She ignored it.

Ceony frowned. “We used to be close, you know.”

Her sister continued to fuss with her hair, eyes averted. “Before you took off and became the apple of Mum and Dad’s eye, maybe.”

Ceony raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sick of being second-rate, Ceony!” Zina said, loud enough to earn a few glances from passersby. Apparently, without Carl and Sam as her shield, the looks bothered her. Lowering her voice, she continued. “Compared, overlooked. If one daughter can become a magician, then certainly another can do something equally great.”

“You can, if you want to,” she offered quietly. “And I’m not a magician yet.”

“Easy for you to say. We don’t all have rich men paying for our schooling.”

“You hate school.”

“I wish I didn’t.”

That took Ceony aback. She felt herself soften, inside and out. “Oh, Zina.”

Zina folded her arms tightly over her chest. “I hate being poor.”

“Is that the appeal to this Carl? Money?”

She guffawed. “He’s a street sweeper, so no.”

But he pays attention to you
, Ceony thought, though she knew better than to voice the words. Instead, she said, “Come,” and gently took Zina’s elbow. Zina, eyes fixed on the walk, came without protest.

“What do you want to do?” Ceony asked after a minute of silence.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, we can’t do anything until we figure that out. What about your art?”

She snorted. “Can’t afford the equipment.”

Ceony paused, looked at her. “Oh, Zina, I can help you out with that. You just have to ask.”

“I don’t need any debts to you.”

Ceony resisted rolling her own eyes and continued walking. “We all need help once in a while. And if I pass my magician’s test, I will have the means to help you financially. The rest is up to you.”

“I don’t want handouts.”

“Then sell something and pay me back. Accept a little help from your family, Zina. I doubt you want to spend the rest of your life inside a saloon next to someone who manhandles women.”

Zina sighed. “Carl is an idiot.”

“See? We’re already becoming more agreeable with each other.”

Despite the tension, Zina laughed, though it was a somewhat bitter sound. They walked in silence for a moment longer before Zina said, “I just need to find some old rich man to marry.”

“And that’s not a handout?”

Her sister smirked. “To suffer through a marriage like that? I’d be earning my allowance.”

That made Ceony pause again. “I know someone who might appreciate you. Your art, at least.”

Another eye roll. “Got another Folder up your sleeve?”

Ceony thought of Emery’s first apprentice, Langston. “Well, yes, actually. But I won’t introduce him to someone who smells like a saloon and who doesn’t respect herself.”

Zina pulled away from her, brows drawn together again. “I respect myself just fine.”

“Then act like it, Zina.”

Her sister opened her mouth to retort, but Ceony pulled her into a hug before she could speak. “I believe in you,” she said into Zina’s tobacco-scented hair. “Believe in yourself. I’ll see you at my announcement?”

Pulling back, Zina studied Ceony’s eyes. “So sure you’ll pass, eh?”

Ceony smiled. “When one believes in oneself, even the extraordinary is possible.”

C
HAPTER
18

T
HIRTEEN DAYS AFTER
her battle with Saraj and twelve days after her confession to Mg. Aviosky, Ceony stood in a short corridor in the Ministry of Licensing, in the wing devoted to the use of magic. She had at her side a giant tweed bag purchased to hold all fifty-eight of her handcrafted spells based off the list Mg. Bailey had given her. She had received no further instructions save that she was to bring the spells with her to the ministry. She wondered if they would be examined by a group of Folders for skill, or perhaps by other magicians who would judge her creativity. Perhaps it was merely a test of whether or not she had been able to complete the list. She might have to debate her reasoning for each spell. Emery had never encouraged her to study debate.

She squeezed the handle of the bag, trying to ignore the moistness of her hands.

A small, golden bell hanging over an unmarked door in the hallway rang—her signal that it was time to begin. With a deep breath, Ceony hefted her tweed bag and approached the door, turned the handle, and—

She paused when the doorknob stuck. She twisted it again, back and forth, but it didn’t budge. The door was locked.

She glanced up at the bell and felt a flush creep up her neck. Swallowing against a dry throat, she lifted her hand and gently rapped on the door.

Nothing happened. No voices or noises of any sort came from within, though Ceony knew both Mg. Aviosky and Mg. Bailey were inside. She’d seen them enter herself. She rapped again, only to be met with silence. She twisted the doorknob. Locked.

Then it dawned on her. Though Mg. Bailey’s list was stowed in her skirt pocket, she easily remembered the first item on it:
Something to open a door.
Was this part of the test, then?

Ceony fished through her bag for the skeletal arm she’d crafted and held it to the doorknob, only to freeze when the paper fingers were a centimeter away.

“Something to open a
locked
door, Mg. Bailey?” she asked, blood draining from her face. Despite her flawless memory, Ceony dug the list out of her pocket and reread the first task:
#1. Something to open a door
. It said nothing about it being locked. Had the Folder purposely left off such a critical element for the sake of revenge on Emery?

Her breath quickened. She stared at the doorknob. Surely she wouldn’t fail her test before it even started!

“Breathe,” she told the arm, and she held it to the doorknob, but the lock was nothing magical and her spell couldn’t open it. She pulled the arm away, the fingers of its hands wriggling like an overturned beetle’s legs.

Tears welled in her eyes. Surely if she showed them the list . . . but they wouldn’t even talk to her through the door. Would she really have to walk back down the corridor in shame, her bag of paper spells in tow? She had no other spells to Fold . . . nothing that would open this bloody door!

Ceony grit her teeth. No, she wouldn’t fail, not after everything she’d been through. She would pass her magician’s test. She would be a Folder. She would see that smug look wiped off Mg. Bailey’s face when she opened this door if she had to break it down herself—

She paused, studying the door. It had no locks besides the one in the knob. For a moment she was tempted to become a Smelter
so she could use an unlocking spell, but she’d left her necklace with Mg. Aviosky. And it would be cheating anyway. Ceony Twill was no cheat.

A simple lock. She could get past a simple lock; her old friend Anise Hatter had done it once at their junior academy when the principal ordered no desserts were to be served at lunch after discovering graffiti on his office window. Anise had broken into the cafeteria, and she and Ceony had eaten two pieces of cake each.

Stepping back, Ceony began dismantling her enchanted arm, which broke the animation spell on its bones. She pulled a thin, rectangular piece of paper from below the wrist and, with a “Stiffen” command, wedged it between the door and the doorjamb. She shimmied the paper down until it hit the knob’s latch. Sawing the paper back and forth, she wriggled it under the latch and, with a clipped sigh of relief, pushed the door open.

Bright afternoon sunlight poured through window blinds, illuminating the rectangular room, which measured smaller than Ceony had imagined. It had unpolished wooden floorboards and sand-colored walls, undecorated save for a large, clean chalkboard on the wall with the door. The only furniture in the room was the long table across from the chalkboard, behind which sat Mg. Bailey, Mg. Aviosky, and two men Ceony didn’t know.

Mg. Aviosky stood and gestured to the two men. “Miss Twill, this is Magician Reed, the headmaster of the Tagis Praff School for the Magically Inclined. He is a Polymaker.”

The man, who was gravely overweight and wore a thick, white mustache, nodded his head. So this was Mg. Aviosky’s replacement at the school.

“And this is Magician Praff, nephew of Tagis Praff,” she said, gesturing to the second, younger man. He looked to be about Emery’s age and had a very straight nose and kind eyes. “He too is a Polymaker, and is attending this testing as a witness.”

Ceony offered a small curtsy and a nod, since it didn’t seem appropriate to march over and shake their hands. “The pleasure is mine,” she said.

Mg. Aviosky sat down and read a paper set before her, pursing her lips. After a few seconds, she said, “A . . . creative way to complete your first task, Miss Twill, but I’m not entirely sure it counts.”

Ceony stared at Mg. Bailey and said, “I believe the request was for
something
, not a spell specifically. Correct?”
Fight this and I’ll show the others your lack of specifics on the paper you gave me
, she thought. She prayed none of the other tasks had been similarly abridged.

The slightest twinge touched the corner of Mg. Bailey’s mouth. The inkling of a smile, perhaps? “Correct,” the Folder agreed. “If you’ll continue to item number two, Miss Twill, we will proceed.”

Ceony nodded and tugged her large bag into the room, letting the door close behind her. She moved to the center of the room, backdropped by the chalkboard, and pulled a paper crane from the top of her pile of spells.
#2. Something that breathes
. The first Folding spell she had ever learned.

She passed that task easily. Her spell for the third item,
Something to tell a tale
, also dated back to her first days as an apprentice. After her visit with Mg. Aviosky two weeks ago, Ceony had returned to the cottage with Emery to collect the children’s book
Pip’s Daring Escape
. She now read the story in its entirety, and the four magicians across from her watched the ghostly images of a gray mouse dance before them. Mg. Reed seemed especially entertained, which bolstered Ceony’s confidence in her solution to item number four:
Something that sticks.

Ceony laid out four bearing squares on the floor, the same she had used when decorating Mrs. Holloway’s living room for her husband’s celebration party. While she had been tempted to use the squares to hang a dunce sign on the back of Mg. Bailey’s shirt, something as critical as her magician’s test required a certain level
of politeness. Instead, she used the squares to stick a paper doll of herself to the chalkboard, which also completed task number five:
Something that copies
.

The magicians remained silent save for the occasional “Please continue” or “Go on” from Mg. Bailey, though after the first dozen spells, he merely nodded or gestured with a hand for her to continue. It seemed Mg. Bailey had also determined the test required a certain level of politeness.

On Ceony worked.

She displayed her blind box for item fourteen,
Something to hide the truth
, and a “Conceal” spell for item fifteen,
Something to hide yourself
, to which Mg. Reed commented, “Good show.” To Ceony’s relief, she did not have to make item twenty-four,
Something to cross a river
, actually cross a river. Mg. Bailey simply stood from his chair, walked over to her Folded boat, and inspected it. A simple “hmm” from his lips indicated it passed inspection, and she moved on.