The Paper Magician

“Read the first page,” he said with a jab of his chin.

Rolling her lips together, Ceony opened the book to its first page, which showed a small gray mouse sitting atop a leaf. Her memory sprang to life, whispering that Ceony had seen this picture before, and her mind spun until it settled on a rainy afternoon some seven years ago when she’d been babysitting her neighbor’s son. He’d been sobbing at the door for half an hour, mourning the departure of his mother. That family had owned this book, albeit a very worn edition. Ceony remembered reading it to him. The boy had stopped sobbing by page four.

She didn’t mention the memory to Mg. Thane.

“?‘One morning Pip the mouse came outside to get some exercise, only to discover a golden wedge of cheese sitting just outside his stump,’?” she read. As she moved to turn the page, Mg. Thane stopped her.

“Good,” he said. “Now read it again.”

Ceony paused. “Again?”

He pointed to the book.

Suppressing another sigh, Ceony read, “?‘One morning Pip the mouse came outside to get some—’?”

“Put some effort into it, Ceony!” Mg. Thane said with a laugh. “Did they not cover story illusion at Praff?”

“I . . . no.” In fact, Ceony had no idea what the man referred to, and she could already feel herself getting frustrated, despite her best attempts not to. She wasn’t used to doing something wrong twice, especially when she didn’t understand what she had done wrong the first time.

Folding his arms, Mg. Thane leaned against the table and asked, “What is the story written on?”

“What sort of question is that?”

“The kind you should answer.”

Ceony’s eyes narrowed. His tone carried an air of chastisement, but his expression seemed lax enough. “It’s obviously written on paper.”

Mg. Thane snapped his fingers. “There we are! And paper is your domain now. So make it mean something. And calm down,” he said, almost as an afterthought.

Ceony flushed, and she cursed her light skin for making it so obvious. Clearing her throat, she reread the passage slowly, letting herself cool down.

Mg. Thane motioned with his hand for a third repetition.

Swallowing, Ceony shut her eyes and tried to take herself back to her neighbor’s house, with the little boy on her knee and his beloved book in her hands. Like you’re reading it to him, she thought. Make it “mean” something. Then perhaps the paper magician would leave her be. She had already thrice reformed her assessment of his sanity.

“?‘One morning Pip the mouse came outside to get some exercise,’?” she said, reading it with the same inflections she had used seven years ago in attempts to calm her babysitting charge, “?‘only to discover a golden wedge of cheese sitting just outside his stump!’?”

“There you have it. Take a look.”

Ceony opened her eyes and nearly dropped the book.

There, like a ghost in the air, sat a little gray mouse with a fidgeting nose. His tail trailed behind him like a tired worm. Beside him stood a stump with a broad leaf and a golden wedge of cheese just like the one illustrated in the book. The image as a whole hovered nose level with her, and she could see through the apparition to the bookshelf on its other side.

Ceony’s throat choked with words. “Wh-What? I did that?”

“Mm-hm,” Mg. Thane hummed. “It helps when you can see an image, such as with picture books, but eventually you’ll be able to read novels and have those scenes play out for yourself, if you wish. I admit I’m impressed—I thought I’d have to demonstrate first. You seem familiar with the story already.”

Once again she flushed, both over the praise and over being called out for having read what, in her mind, was a childish thing. The ghostly images lasted only a moment longer before fading away, as all unread stories were wont to do.

Ceony shut the book and glanced to her new teacher. “It’s . . . amazing, but I admit it’s also superficial. Aesthetic.”

“But entertaining,” he combated. “Never dismiss the value of entertainment, Ceony. Good-quality entertainment is never free, and it’s something everyone wants.

“One more trick, then.” Mg. Thane pulled a square piece of pale gray paper from the table and began Folding it in his hands, without a board to press against. The Folds seemed relatively simple, but by the time he finished he held what looked like a strange sort of egg carton, one that could only hold four eggs and bore no lid.

He pulled a pen out from somewhere inside his coat and began writing on it. Ceony noted that he was left-handed.

“What is that?” she asked, setting Pip’s Daring Escape down on the cushion of the chair as she stood.