It’s kind of hard to have a conversation where you can’t ask any questions. It’s a little easier if you just can’t ask any “where” questions, but it’s still very difficult. Luckily, the Questor understood long pauses and he’d had experience in how to manipulate the magic for a long time. After a few minutes of catching-up, he put his wife on the phone.

“Yes. We’re all a bit odd,” she said, not even waiting for me. “One of our sisters is a healer, and another a hero. I should say the words so you can hear the capital letters on them, but we also have sisters who are remarkably normal. Not squibs, but who blend in with the crowd better than we do. It’s a relief, really. To them, most of all.” There was almost a chuckle there, but I could tell there was also some concern.

“None of that fear that your enemies would take them as hostage, and put them in a refrigerator, you know, the way they do?” I asked, somewhat sardonically.

“Contrary to popular media, wizards aren’t always in their lairs preparing for duels,” she responded. “We’ve usually got other things to do, you know, like fix dinner. I tell the kids that `Wizards fix things.’ That’s what they do,” she said, as if it were a law of the universe. Vampires bite, the sun sets in the west, wizards fix things. It’s just that simple.

“Huh,” I grunted. I decided it would be particularly tactless to point out that in my view of things wizards spent more time meddling in contrast to their subtlety, but she might be quick to anger. “And your kids?” I asked. I felt weird, like I was overstepping my boundaries, but in my brief experience with them, most mothers liked to talk about their children. I watched Nen as he picked up a book, one I didn’t remember getting, at least in recent memory. He often read while watching TV, but not to pass time during the commercials. He liked commercials. Rayya made it out and started up some more waffles in the toaster.

“Hah!” she barked out a bit of laughter. “I have hopes for them, but I can’t be too objective, so I’ll see what they want to learn and use that as a test for what I can teach them. They’re growing up as normal as possible, given everything. Video games, too many books about cats, and the occasional reminder that despite their father’s cynicism, and, well, atheism, there’s plenty of magic in the world.” She paused, “But no real zombies. Vampires, sure, but no zombies. That’s important,” she said, like she was reminding me.

“The Questor is an atheist?” I blurted out the question.

She laughed. “There is nothing requiring deity in what he does, although I suspect his keeper is some kind of lowercase-god. There’s a temptation to describe him as an avatar, so I get that, but a mouthpiece for the magic of alternative cartography is different than a piece of misplaced divinity.” She was quiet for a second. “I don’t find that his skepticism runs to me. As long as I’m his exception, I’m good,” and I could hear the smile in her voice.

“I guess that makes sense,” I said, considering everything. “Did you put your brother onto me?”

“What, you want to be part of his harem? I doubt you’d make the cut,” she said, and that smile was still there. “I did recommend that if he got the chance he might like to meet you, but I didn’t post some kind of all points bulletin indicating, ‘Closer here! Hide your ouija! Close your closet doors!’ or anything.”

“What did you do?” I asked. I meant what she had said to Tumnus, but she took in a breath that suggested she hadn’t wanted that question, or it was complicated.

After a slow sigh, she continued. “What exactly are you asking?”

“See, this is the problem with wizards. You think you’re fixing things, but then you always play cagey and vague so that you can later come in with a rationalization of what you were doing.” I probably sounded somewhat snipish. I think Nen smiled. Rayya had sat on the couch, presumably watching the show while chewing her waffles carefully. She liked syrup.

“Granted, but the question is important. Remember that the word ‘quest’ is in it, as I often remind friends.” She didn’t even have the audacity to deny it, which took some of the wind out of my sails.

“Um, I meant mostly what did you say, exactly?” I have to admit, the question is driven by ego. I want to know if it was flattering or questionable, which is probably the same as asking what her opinion of me was.

She chuckled. “Our life was shaped more by powerful men than women,” she said. I didn’t know if it was an answer. “One of the ways we learned love from them was by giving gifts. I give out truth as one of those gifts. I say that as a warning.”

I sighed. “Got it. Was it that bad?”

She laughed. “No, it wasn’t bad at all, and I don’t remember the exact particulars. There’s not a lot of people he can chat with about the hidden arts.”

“Hidden arts? Is this what we’re calling them these days?”

“The craft? The quickening? The way of the wise?” she suggested.

“Too close to ‘the Dark Arts,’ I think.”

“I always thought that was a sex ed class,” she mused. I don’t think I blushed.

“Um,” I answered. “So, with magic, why hasn’t he used it to change himself?” I asked. “Sorry,” I said, immediately. “I don’t want to blurt things out without thinking about them, but,” I sighed, as I could tell Nen was listening in enough to smother a chuckle. “I guess the question stands. I thought magic is for fixing things.”

“No,” she said, sharply. “Wizards fix things. Magic doesn’t fix anything.”

“Wai–”

“Hey, wizards blurt things out too,” she chuckled, interrupting. “Magic is a tool. So are most wizards,” she chuckled, but it sounded uncomfortable. “Here. I could tell you that I use magic to clean the kitchen, or I could tell you that my husband does it, and that there’s a fable with a thousand mops that’s pretty telling.”

I sighed, expecting the answer. That’s kind of what I’d figured – magic complicated things.

“On the other hand, I think that’s a total cop out. I could clean my kitchen with magic. I could color my hair, and use magic for all the petty things in my life. It’s not a resource I’m worried about running out of, after all. But I asked my brother that question, and I think you of all people might really understand the answer.”

“I’m all ears. Well, except for the part where I’m only, something like 1/55th ears. I mean, my ears are normal,” I trailed off. Not something I should have said in front of the Spriggan sibs, given their kind’s proclivity to trickery.

“I asked him if he would want to be transformed via magic, and he said, ‘Yes,’ in a hot moment, and then he stopped and considered it. `Yes,’ he said, `it would be so much easier than the cost and the pain of recovery and the risks,’ and he took a deep breath, `but no. No, because I lose too much of the experience. Too much of the connection with others. I lose sight of what I’m working for with the community.’ See, magic isolates a person. I could see an argument that perhaps he could just say it was a flawless transition of sorts, but we’re not in that future. He couldn’t compare stories with his friends about top surgery, and his activism loses all verisimilitude. The transformation wouldn’t just be of his body, but of his relationships with others. Sure, he could build a new life free of all of his previous entanglements, but those entanglements include those willing chains of love and respect and connection to society. I hate to say it because it is pretty cliche, but it is strangely enough the difficulties of life that make it more real and more precious.”

“Huh,” I grunted. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“I thought about it when you talked about not wanting to be a wizard for just the same reason. It isolates people. Why am I not in a luxurious mansion, resting on my laurels, and instead work long hours in an administrative position? For some wizards, it makes sense to win a lottery or invest in long term funds, or prolong their life, but they pay in relationships. While I feel a bit too Galadriel when I say it, I will diminish, and I will remain me.” She sighed. “Besides, the paperwork is pretty similar. Instead of poring over old scrolls and ancient manuscripts and pondering the right font to use to pen my electronic Book of Shadows, I pore over accounting ledgers which seem just as arcane. And, um, yeah, I do spend time considering the right font and whether or not I should leave comments on, which seems less Gemara than graffiti.” She chuckled a moment.

“I don’t get the reference?”

“Sorry, it’s my cultural Jewish background speaking for a moment. It’s really quite clever unless you have to explain it,” she laughed. “Gemara is kind of the notes in the margins for how to translate the holy laws. Not exactly the dissenting opinions of rabbinical scholars, but kind of a lesson plan and commentary.”

“I’m sure.” I wrote down the word to study later. “What was the thing you didn’t want to tell me?” I asked.

“Wow, talk about quick transitions, and awkward questions. That’s like the knife-to-the-kidney of conversational gambits. I don’t even know if I can respond to that in a rational fashion. And yes, I’m stalling. I can do that.” She sighed again. “That’s not how you’ll get the answer you want. I was fishing a little. I wanted to know if your insatiable curiosity had yet managed to flounder in certain waters, but I don’t feel you’ve done more than look at the map. Heh. Imagine, the Questor’s wife talking surveying.”

“Did you just accuse me of dancing around the subject?” I laughed.

“Hey, remember I just pointed out the ‘quest’ in ‘question.’ Do I have to point out the double talk of ‘legend’ when looking at a map?”

“At least we’re not charting things orobathymetric,” I had gotten the word from a vocabulary site when playing my alternate character. I wasn’t actually sure if that was how to use the word, though.

“Words mean things, and the plays of language are verbal incantations. Why do you think they use different languages for sorcery in the movies?”

“Because Americans are generally monolingual?” I supposed.

“More true today than it was, yes, but you’ll see a lot of casters using dead languages in hopes to keep the adaptation of more livelier tongues at bay. There is intent in magic, although intent by itself may not make things magical. I think the act of translation also helps focus the mage, but that may just be me. I did learn sign language as a somatic component, after all.”

I laughed.

“It’s been fun talking, but I do have things to get done. Things to fix,” I could hear the grin in her voice. “Did that answer your questions?”

“It’s given me things to think about, for sure,” I admitted. “I’m still curious as to the things you’re keeping secret, but I’m sure they’ll reveal themselves right when I least expect them and will get the most disoriented.”

“That’s the spirit!” she said. I hoped it was sarcastic. “Never discount the value of a good learning experience.”

“Why do learning experiences always end in pain and misery?”

“You remember the negative ones so that you don’t do something that dumb again… the positive ones tend to fade away so you might try them as if new. Like learning to kiss someone, or the pleasure of a massage.”

“Good point.”

We made some conversational ending bits, and hung up. I stretched, and stood up.

“So, did she let out her secret?” Nen asked, without preamble.

“I don’t think so. I’m going to have to process some of what she said.”

He seemed pleased somehow, which perversely annoyed me. I went back to my room.