Lascelles and Drawlight looked from one magician to the other in some confusion.

Lascelles approached the table and stared hard at the book. “It is a little longer than it was perhaps,” he said.

“I do not think so,” said Drawlight.

“It is tan leather now,” said Lascelles. “Was it blue before?”

“No,” said Drawlight, “it was always tan.”

Mr Norrell laughed out loud; Mr Norrell, who rarely even smiled, laughed at them. “No, no, gentlemen! You have not guessed it! Indeed you have not! Oh! Mr Strange, I cannot tell how much … but they do not understand what it is you have done! Pick it up!” he cried. “Pick it up, Mr Lascelles!”

More puzzled than ever Lascelles put out his hand to grasp the book, but all he grasped was the empty air. The book lay there in appearance only.

“He has made the book and its reflection change places,” said Mr Norrell. “The real book is over there, in the mirror.” And he went to peer into the mirror with an appearance of great professional interest. “But how did you do it?”

“How indeed?” murmured Strange; he walked about the room, examining the reflection of the book upon the table from different angles like a billiards-player, closing one eye and then the other.

“Can you get it back?” asked Drawlight.

“Sadly, no,” said Strange. “To own the truth,” he said at last, “I have only the haziest notion of what I did. I dare say it is just the same with you, sir, one has a sensation like music playing at the back of one’s head – one simply knows what the next note will be.”

“Quite remarkable,” said Mr Norrell.

What was perhaps rather more remarkable was that Mr Norrell, who had lived all his life in fear of one day discovering a rival, had finally seen another man’s magic, and far from being crushed by the sight, found himself elated by it.

Mr Norrell and Mr Strange parted that afternoon on very cordial terms, and upon the following morning met again without Mr Lascelles or Mr Drawlight knowing any thing about it. This meeting ended in Mr Norrell’s offering to take Mr Strange as a pupil. Mr Strange accepted.

“I only wish that he had not married,” said Mr Norrell fretfully. “Magicians have no business marrying.”

25
The education of a magician

September–December 1809

On the first morning of Strange’s education, he was invited to an early breakfast at Hanover-square. As the two magicians sat down at the breakfast-table, Mr Norrell said, “I have taken the liberty of drawing up a plan of study for you for the next three or four years.”

Strange looked a little startled at the mention of three or four years, but he said nothing.

“Three or four years is such a very short time,” continued Mr Norrell with a sigh, “that, try as I can, I cannot see that we will achieve very much.”

He passed a dozen or so sheets of paper to Strange. Each sheet was covered in three columns of Mr Norrell’s small, precise handwriting; each column contained a long list of different sorts of magic.¹