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Isabella doesn't really want to own as many things as a human. She likes the simple wardrobe, the one glorious vehicle that carries her under the stars, the rental house. Hair can do without shampoo as long as it's not accustomed to the stuff; no one really needs to own a copy of Monopoly; she sleeps comfortably in a hammock instead of having to come up with the hundreds of dollars for a mattress (let alone a frame).
She sometimes wishes she had her own computer.
She has a phone, which Charlie insists she carry with her, so that's all right and no one's going to call her unwitchly for indulging a beloved mortal. It will do simple web browsing. When she wants to do less simple web browsing, she goes to the library.
So here she is, in the Rockland Public Library, looking up alethiometers.
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"I'm bored of tigers anyway," Petaal rumbles, and turns into a tiny hummingbird who immediately darts into Kas's hood. Her wings tickle his cheek on the way; he giggles.
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Metis's eyes narrow.
"He's eighteen," chirps Isabella.
"I'm going to draw a divination circle in the back yard," says Metis, and she strides back into the house.
"There's our answer," Isabella tells Kas, smiling.
"He's eighteen," chirps Isabella.
"I'm going to draw a divination circle in the back yard," says Metis, and she strides back into the house.
"There's our answer," Isabella tells Kas, smiling.
Kas grins.
Petaal peeks his fennec face out of the hood, and Kas kisses his nose.
Petaal peeks his fennec face out of the hood, and Kas kisses his nose.
"Sure!" says Kas.
"Want to tell your teacher we don't separate before she draws the wrong kind?" says Petaal.
"Want to tell your teacher we don't separate before she draws the wrong kind?" says Petaal.
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"Path?" Isabella says, and Pathalan flies around the house to relay that information while Isabella shuts the door. She sits on her cloud-pine again and begins drifting towards the house with the space heater. Pathalan catches up presently.
Petaal remains tucked into Kas's hood as Kas follows.
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The house is a ways away, and it takes fifteen minutes to get there at walking speed. Isabella dismounts at the door and rings the bell.
A woman answers the door. She's not starclad at all. "Isabella Amariah," she says politely. "Can I help you?"
"If I can help you," Isabella says cheerfully. "Is your apple tree still sickly?"
"Yes, we've asked Metis Ismetha about it, but - you can fix it?"
"I'll take longer than she would to do it, and I'll need to borrow a bottle of honey," says Isabella, "but I can. I'd like to borrow your space heater for a few days," she adds.
"Of course, of course. I'll go get you the honey. Will your... friend there... be joining you?"
"Yes. He's curious about magic," Isabella explains.
"All right. I'll be right back." And into the house she goes.
A woman answers the door. She's not starclad at all. "Isabella Amariah," she says politely. "Can I help you?"
"If I can help you," Isabella says cheerfully. "Is your apple tree still sickly?"
"Yes, we've asked Metis Ismetha about it, but - you can fix it?"
"I'll take longer than she would to do it, and I'll need to borrow a bottle of honey," says Isabella, "but I can. I'd like to borrow your space heater for a few days," she adds.
"Of course, of course. I'll go get you the honey. Will your... friend there... be joining you?"
"Yes. He's curious about magic," Isabella explains.
"All right. I'll be right back." And into the house she goes.
Kas continues to be cheerful, friendly, and quiet.
Petaal, now an Arctic fox, snuggles his neck.
Petaal, now an Arctic fox, snuggles his neck.
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Isabella takes the honey and walks around to the side of the house, where there is an unhappy-looking apple tree.
"How much narration interests you?" she asks Kas, unscrewing the bottle.
"How much narration interests you?" she asks Kas, unscrewing the bottle.
"Lots!"
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"Okay! Honey's one of a bunch of things I can use to draw symbols for spells that need them," she says, extracting the dipper and starting to drizzle the substance in a line in the snow near the base of the tree. "It's good for anything to do with flowering plants, in particular, of which apple trees are one, and it's also good for healings, so it's the obvious choice for fixing up this tree. I'm not doing anything fancy so I'm just going to repeat the same three symbols until I've gone all the way around the trunk to complete a circle. This one -" She completes a somewhat messy design - "is for winter, because, y'know, it's winter, and that is relevant to trees and how they work, especially deciduous ones. This second one -" She starts another, loopier symbol. "Is for plants. Because I'm working with a plant. These explanations would be much more elaborate and layered and abstract if I were doing something significant. And the third symbol which I haven't started yet is going to be for healing. So all together they mean I'm healing a plant and it's wintertime."
She finishes honeying the symbols, twice each, in a ring around the tree. "Next I get to make up a poem. I don't need it to rhyme, but I need it to scan."
She finishes honeying the symbols, twice each, in a ring around the tree. "Next I get to make up a poem. I don't need it to rhyme, but I need it to scan."
"Do you need to make it up," he inquires, "or could you use one you already had?"
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"The more specific it is, the better it works, all else being equal. So usually we make up new ones, though there are standards for common applications, and standard ways to vary them for people who aren't that creative. If I were in a hurry, I'd use the spell I used to fix my mortal grandmother's potted ficus, but I'm not."
Isabella has practice making up poems. She's got a workable couplet in short order. She presses her hands to the bark. "Apple under stress and snow; apple, heal, recover, grow."
The honey symbols on the ground disappear.
"It's often easier to make up poems that rhyme," Isabella remarks, taking her hands off the tree and brushing debris from them.
The apple tree creaks as it tries to stand up a little straighter. It's hard to see any other difference when the branches are bare.
Isabella picks up the honey bottle and caps it again.
Isabella has practice making up poems. She's got a workable couplet in short order. She presses her hands to the bark. "Apple under stress and snow; apple, heal, recover, grow."
The honey symbols on the ground disappear.
"It's often easier to make up poems that rhyme," Isabella remarks, taking her hands off the tree and brushing debris from them.
The apple tree creaks as it tries to stand up a little straighter. It's hard to see any other difference when the branches are bare.
Isabella picks up the honey bottle and caps it again.
"That's cute," Kas declares.
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"Healing apple trees? The poem?" guesses Isabella, heading back for the house to trade the remaining honey back for the space heater.
"Both. And the way the tree moved," he says.
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"It feels better now," says Isabella contently. She rings the doorbell again, hands over the honey, and accepts the space heater without exchanging any further words about either. The space heater has a handle. She hangs it from the edge of her cloud-pine and starts the flight home a little farther off the ground than before.
"That's adorable," says Kas. As they leave the house, Petaal changes into an ermine.
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"Any other magic you want to see? Metis does much, much more careful and complicated symbology than I can do - at least from memory - and she'll be working on her circle for a while."
"Well, I don't know what kinds there are, so I don't know what kinds I want to see," Kas says reasonably.
Petaal pokes his nose out of the hood and says, "Do something fun!"
Petaal pokes his nose out of the hood and says, "Do something fun!"
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Isabella laughs, and thinks.
"Here's the first verse spell I ever learned. It's not in English - a lot of the first stuff they'll teach us isn't so we don't try to vary it without knowing what we're doing."
And she recites a rhythmic, rhyming couplet, and the snow around her kicks up into a fine whirlwind, swirling about her and throwing glittery light every which way.
"Here's the first verse spell I ever learned. It's not in English - a lot of the first stuff they'll teach us isn't so we don't try to vary it without knowing what we're doing."
And she recites a rhythmic, rhyming couplet, and the snow around her kicks up into a fine whirlwind, swirling about her and throwing glittery light every which way.
Kas claps his hands. "Aww, that's pretty!"
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When the snow settles, it's in a ring-shaped heap around Isabella. "It's actually for drawing accurate circles to symbolize on, but it's perfectly usable on its own for decorative reasons," she agrees.
Petaal leaps down out of Kas's hood and scampers around the perimeter of the snow-ring, then climbs up his leg and disappears under his coat.