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 reportedanything, 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
“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 reportedanything, 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
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