I think it’s a corrolary of the whole, “grass is greener on the other side,” theory that practitioners use when they say they want to be “normal.”

Wizards are messed up, yo.

They want to be normal. They don’t want to know what they know, do what they do, or sow what they reap. Just like normal people want to be wizards. They want magic in their lives, but when even the least talented of them get a taste of it they generally run screaming the other way. Same thing happens to the practitioners who lose their powers or make vows against using them or whatever. It’s like losing a limb. They’d rather wander off to elfland or whatever insanity draws them near to never return.

They don’t want to be responsible. To hear the call, the needs, and have to live up to it.

I harp on about responsibility because I am constantly second-guessing a lot of the choices I make. How do you ever choose not to help someone if you have what it takes? (Some people have this dysfunction engraved even deeper in their heads – they’ll find someway to help someone… even if that person doesn’t need help. Even if that person doesn’t want their help. Usually it starts out with the best of intentions, a kind of, “No, I don’t know how to fix their alternator, but they’re on the side of the road so maybe if I go over and stare at their engine with them, I’m at least providing… um… company?” So you make rules to keep you out of this particular spiral, or you stop what you’re doing and where you’re going to help people no matter what, and, well, maybe there is a karma that will come back and assist you in your hour of need. That’s not how karma actually works, but it’s a Witch Rule that what you put out into the universe will be harvested in return.)

I can’t help everyone. In fact, I don’t know that I accomplished anything by being here tonight. I’ll stop beating myself up over it, because I did, in some part, save Sylvia, and I prevented any immediate damage from spilling onto her housemates, I think. I didn’t stop the Shadow King from starting trouble, but I think he might have been invited into it by the Messenger. A kind of push and pull situation ending up sending the metaphorical boats in the same general direction at any rate. Um, the chicken and the egg kind of metaphor, not something about paddling.

Innuendo. I am still soaked in it.

I walked away and nursed my aches (the newly swollen jaw) with only a bit of a limp and a sigh. Ed caught up with me.

“That’s not cool, man,” he said.

“What, I couldn’t hit back. That’s not right.”

“No, no, you threw the first punch. I’ve known Magda almost as long as you have, and if there’s anything that woman really loves, it’s power.”

I kicked at a pebble. Luckily, it hit the tire and not the rental car. I went around the rental with a careful look, but it was dark and I might have missed a scratch. I promised to bill Magda if there were questions.

“Yeah,” I finally mentioned. “And?”

“This was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen and I still want to say, ‘Yet,’ because, bro, this ain’t the end. And that’s cool. What’s not is that you still have a thing for her.”

“What?” I knew better than to just protest.

“You’re all mushy when she comes around, and look, I and your conscious brain know better. You don’t need me to be your Jiminy Cricket. Dump the,” he named her unflatteringly, but heck, it rhymed with ‘witch,’ “and get over it. Sylvia’s cute. Too young for you in a whole lot of ways, but she’s a good rebound.”

“Thanks,” I said, wryly.

“I said I’m here for you.” He stretched and yawned. “I’m headed home. I think I can sleep, finally, without weird dreams.” He held out his hand.

I grasped his arm and we did the shake. “Alright, man,” I said, finally. “I’m off to bed, too.”

“You going to make it off East?” he looked concerned.

“I’m not crashing at your mom’s house again. Last time we teetered in I swear she put some moves on me.”

“She thinks you’re a doctor,” Ed grimaced.

“Anyway, the party’s still going on strong inside. Maybe they can power wash the innuendo off the exterior.”

“You need sleep, man. That comment made no sense.” He looked up at me as if he could, purely by the power of his stare, determine if I was safe to drive. It’s probably a specialized talent, but Ed ain’t got it.

“Kind of talking to myself. OK. I’m off.”

“I’m calling in today, so if you need anything, go ahead and buzz.” He waved, I nodded.

The car started up, which was almost a surprise, but it seemed to run fine as I made it back down the curvy road. There was light towards the East, and I sang along with the radio for a while, trying to let it all soak in until I could make some sense out of it. That’s not soaking in, it’s more like defrosting, right? I am just no good at metaphors.

A Witch war. Witches have webs of influence and prerequisite and promises all around them, depending on how long they’ve been around. I tried to remember all the things Maggie had said about it.

“Apprenticing and covening are almost required because their type of magic kind of needs to be shared. One witch can’t hold it all, and why it’s generally considered divine power, without losing a great deal of it, so the coven focuses it, and then they have a primary (usually called a ‘Priestess’) that is the fulcrum, no, the who sorts out the different levels of energy into something more… like a refraction, maybe a lens,” I was talking to myself in the car, “yeah, a lens. But they’re using the seed from the original tumbleweed, which is why all Witches are related in some fashion, and it takes a war to kill off the full net. Web. Whatever.”

I was still muttering to myself when I drove up to my place. I hadn’t remembered leaving the lights on, which made me hesitate.

Then Peredur was there, and I made hesitation into a full stop.