We could have used Bunce’s input—and her wand—but we’re making progress. I’d initially planned to get a broader picture of the Smith family. But narrowing the search to “Smith-Richards” gives us a much smaller stack of books to sort through: just two.

Snow starts re-shelving while I search through the first book. With Lady Salisbury’s reading glasses on, I can turn directly to the page I’m looking for—it’s a list of announcements.

Announcements constitute the bulk of The Magickal Record—births, deaths, and, after the Mage took power, arrests. Only huge magickal news warrants more detailed coverage in The Record, something like an attack on Watford. (I wonder whether they’ll write up this rash of potential saviours. Meet the candidates.)

I scan the page for “Smith-Richards” …

“Here it is,” I say. “His birth announcement.” Simon comes to look over my shoulder while I read aloud: “Smith-Richards-comma-Smith. Jemima Smith and Hugh Richards of Skipton are delighted to announce the birth of their son, Smith. The child was named for his paternal grandfather, Smith Alan Richards, who died in June. Young Smith will inherit his grandfather’s oaken wand. His mother reports that the child was born during June’s solar eclipse. How auspicious!”

“Huh, look at that,” Simon says, “he was born under an eclipse.”

“Hmm. According to his mother.”

Snow pokes my shoulder. “Why would she lie about that?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “It’s a very boastful thing to mention in a birth announcement.”

“So Smith is thirty … He looks good for thirty.”

“Does he?” I reach for the second book.

“I expect this’ll be his parents’ death,” Snow says.

He’s right. He rests his forearms on my shoulders, and I hold up the book, so we can both read the report:

Jemima Smith and Hugh Richards died January 12th in a car accident near their home in Yorkshire. They are survived by their only son, Smith Smith-Richards, age 1. The child will be cared for by his godfather, Evander Feverfew, most recently of Mexico City.

“Evander Feverfew,” Simon says. “What a name. Are you related?”

“Feverfew is an old family,” I say. “But I’ve never heard of Evander.”

Simon stands up straight, scratching the back of his head. “So it’s just like Smith said. It’s all true.”

“Well, he does seem to be an orphan named Smith Smith-Richards—”

“Isn’t that what we came here to verify?”

“I suppose,” I say. “I’d like to see what else we can find on his family.”

“We know his parents’ names now. We could search for those.”

“Indeed.”

Jemima Smith and Hugh Richards were two run-of-the-mill magicians. They graduated from Watford together. They got married. They got normal Normal jobs. She was a dentist, and he was some sort of graphic designer. They didn’t win any awards. They didn’t run for office. They died before the Mage started making mischief.