The Paper Magician (The Paper Magician Trilogy, #1)(61)

Mg. Aviosky’s gaze prickled Ceony’s back as Ceony stepped away from Magician Emery Thane, pulled herself up the stairs, and collapsed into her own bed.



Ceony awoke with lead bones and a mild headache in the center of her forehead. Soreness had settled into her muscles—her legs and forearms especially—warning her of further soreness on the morrow. She felt her pulse tickling hot spots on her back where she had skidded across the rock shelf along the Foulness coast. Her stomach, though it felt quite small, chortled in protest for food, and she had hardly enough saliva in her mouth to swallow.

Someone handed her a glass of water.

She didn’t recognize the man kneeling at her bedside, but Mg. Aviosky stood behind him and helped Ceony prop herself up on a pillow. Ceony drained the cup in four and a half gulps and thirsted for more.

She noticed the conical stethoscope around the stranger’s neck—he looked about fifty, with thorough hair loss and round-lensed spectacles—and concluded he was the doctor she had asked Mg. Aviosky to retrieve. She hadn’t intended the doctor for her own use.

Morning light in the window told her she’d been asleep for some time.

“Dehydration,” the doctor said, pressing his finger into Ceony’s wrist, then watching to see how long his white print took to recolor. “And quite scratched. And in need of a bath. But you’ll certainly survive, Miss Twill.”

Ceony cleared her throat. “Emer—Thane—Magician Thane,” she stuttered, feeling her cheeks heat under Mg. Aviosky’s scrutiny. “Is he all right?”

Mg. Aviosky said, “As you predetermined, Miss Twill, he will be healthy after a few days’ rest. Dr. Newbold has affirmed it.”

Releasing a long breath of relief, Ceony sunk down into her pillow. Dr. Newbold leaned forward and touched his stethoscope to her chest with no formality, but doctors tended to be quite familiar. Nodding his head once, he said, “Liquids and soft foods for twenty-four hours. If you have to chew it, don’t eat it, unless you want to cramp.”

He rifled through a short-handled bag on the floor, one that had been patched several times, for Ceony noticed the stitchings along its seams were three distinctly different shades of black. From the bag Dr. Newbold pulled a shallow jar of green gel. It looked like the aloe cream the nurse at Tagis Praff always kept on the third shelf of the medicine cabinet between beds one and two.

“This will help your abrasions heal more swiftly,” he explained. “Twice a day, or whenever they sting.”

“And Em—Magician Thane?” she asked.

“No abrasions on him,” Dr. Newbold answered. “Magic wounds are a strange sort. Tricky. If he acts oddly after he wakes, call me back.” He held up a finger as a warning. “And let him wake on his own. The body often knows what it needs without our meddling.”

“But how will I know if he’s acting strange?” Ceony asked. “He’s strange already.”

Mg. Aviosky clucked her tongue, and Ceony felt herself smiling. When Mg. Aviosky clucked again, Ceony wiped the grin from her face and managed to force a flush down into her chest, where the magician wouldn’t see it.

To the doctor, Mg. Aviosky said, “Will you return tonight to check on his progress?”

Dr. Newbold shook his head in the negative. “No, no, I don’t believe it’s necessary. He seems stable to me, especially now that he’s in his own bed. I don’t like patients lying on the floor unless they absolutely must.”

“I can tend to him,” Ceony said, sitting up. Her back ached as she did. “I don’t mind, and it’s just watching to make sure nothing seems amiss, right?” she asked, glancing from the doctor to Mg. Aviosky. “I’m his apprentice and I’m all right. And I know you’re busy, Magician Aviosky.”

Mg. Aviosky pursed her lips into a thin line, but Ceony wasn’t sure if it was in regard to her statement or not. Mg. Aviosky always looked pursed.

“Things have gone from very hectic to very calm very quickly,” the magician said. “It disconcerts me. But if you believe it is well, Dr. Newbold, I suppose I’ll be wont to agree with you.”

“It is well,” the doctor said, closing his bag and standing with a grunt. His right knee popped as he did so. “But telegram if anything does go amiss.”

“Me as well,” Mg. Aviosky said to Ceony, clasping her hands behind her back. She still wore the same clothes she had donned when first responding to Ceony’s call, and Ceony found herself grateful not only for the woman’s quick response, but also that she had stayed beside Emery when the others had left him for dead.

Ceony smiled. “Of course. I’ll let you know any and every change, Magician Aviosky. I promise it.”

Mg. Aviosky smiled as much as her stern countenance would allow. “I am glad to hear it. I apologize for this incident disrupting your learning.” She looked at Ceony with a critical eye. “I admit I’m not a fan of mixed genders in apprenticeships, and our only other Folders are likewise male, but I’m willing to consider reassignment.”

Ceony bit down on her tongue to keep from blurting an adamant “No!” at the very idea. Instead she calmly, politely, said, “Magician Thane has been a good teacher thus far, and very patient with me. I’d like to continue apprenticing under him as far as the situation allows.”