I like to sleep late but never do and this morning was no exception. I was up at 5:30 walking aimlessly around the lower levels of Chadsford Hall. It's a mindfulness technique, really. Walking around with attention focused on nothing--aimless. Still, I could sense the magic filling up the place.
It's nothing new to have magic in the air of the Hall, it's usually full of the stuff, but it's normally the old, comfortable sort of magic that's about as exciting as pilling a cat. The magic I felt rushing underneath the door jams was the new stuff, the newly minted variety fresh from the Source.
Not a good thing for me, new magic that is. I'm allergic. Ms. Wonder says that everyone is allergic to magic. She says that's the point. But it's different for me. The general background magic that supports all thaumaturgic activity is harmless but the new stuff clings to me like static. It builds to a critical mass and then bang! It's not pretty and it never turns out well.
The distraction from bright, cold drafts of the stuff wafting about the rooms of the Hall, glistening like Empyrian electrum and shimmering with octarine green and blue, was too much for my aimlessness. I needed advice and I needed it fast. I headed upstairs where I heard gushing torrents of water filling a bathtub. "Poopsie," I said, "I need your advice. Rally 'round."
"What's up?" she said.
"What's up?" I said, "That's the point, isn't it? You are aware that new magic is rolling off the press even as we speak and that's it's coming from Woodcroft?"
"I noticed," she said, "Are you puissant?"
This got right by me, of course. Puissant? Is that a word? What could she possibly mean by it? Must have something to do with magic. There was no time to muse on this mystery. I felt the need to get right down to it so I gave her the best response I could.
"Probably not so puissant as you," I said and I thought it pretty good. Don't you agree?
"That's sweet of you to say," she said, "and probably very true but what is it you wanted to ask."
"Well," I said, choosing my words carefully. "You are aware that Gladdis..."
"Witch of Woodcroft," she interrupted.
"Yes, all that," I said, "but put that out of your mind for the nonce. Let me finish my thought or I'll wander off the path. We cannot afford distractions. You will be leaving for work shortly and then where will I be? Lost among the lilies, that's where.
"Lost among the lilies? Is that a saying?"
"Isn't it?"
"One of yours then," she said.
"Ah," I said because I'd lost the thread. "What was it we were talking about?"
"Something about Gladdis," she said.
"That's right. You are well aware that Gladdis..."
"Witch of Woodcroft."
"As you say, Gladdis Lyremark Ironarrow or the Witch of Woodcroft, has published the first installment of Rogue Star."
"We looked at it on her website together," she said.
I raised a hand. "Poopsie," I said, "please." I gave her a look and it seemed to have quieted this tendency of her's to pop off.
"She has published a seminal chapter, is seminal the word?"
"Seminal," she said, "or original, informative, carrying the seeds that will develop into the fruit of the work."
Although I felt that we were at a critical juncture, I could not hold back another long, meaningful look. I hoped it was meaningful and I hoped it would stick.
"Wonder," I said.
"Yes?"
"This new magic that even now has filled the lower levels and is creeping up the staircase is generated by the release of Chapter 1 on the Rogue Star website. And although we agree that it is a seminal chapter of the book, carrying the seeds that will develop into the fruit of the work, still, just what the hell are we going to do about it?"
"Do about it?"
"You know what I mean. How to stop the overflow of magic and all the strangeness that follows."
"Just relax," she said. "I realize that this is one of Princess Amy's hot buttons but everything is going to be fine."
"It is?"
"Of course, it is. Just take a deep breath and let life happen. Don't you remember Lucy once telling you that it's not your job to be in control of everything?"
"She did, yes, that's one wise kitten, well she's a cat now but she was only a kitten when she told me that. Animals have a certain wisdom."
"Humans too," she said.
"Well, some humans," I conceded. "I'll try to follow that advice. Thank you, Poopsie."
"Don't thank me, thank Lucy," she said while I took a few deep quaffs of oxygen.