He's not actually doing that many spells. He does wheedle tofu into tastiness on a nightly basis, and when he feels a cold coming on he looks up a spell about that, but he wants to know what he's doing before he gets going on what he most wants to be doing, because he wants to be doing big things. He swore to oppose death. He meant that.
Today he is preparing to oppose death in his backyard. It's threatening rain and he doesn't want to be all the way down the street with Leafy if the clouds open up. The jerk tree doesn't talk to him if he doesn't talk to it and it's perfectly serviceable as something to sit under, anyway.
"The local public library, at three-fifteen?" yawns Cam. "I'll tell Rénee not to bother meeting me, that I'm meeting some friends and I can walk home myself."
He is at the library the following day at ten after three.
"About how often do you rescue kids from Ordeals?" Cam asks. He has Grace out, ready to take notes.
"So the Powers are personally intervening every time a manual lands on somebody's head, there's no automation?"
"Useful in combating entropy and that sort of thing?" Cam says. "Where do the manuals come from? Are they hiding wherever a sufficient mass of books hangs out, or do they spontaneously generate near appropriate wizards, or what?"
"At anything. Your affiliation, what's that mean? And that is a stupid policy that presumably gets people killed, surely the other kids you've saved get that even if others don't?"
"Because of policies like that one, presumably? And the Powers can't revoke or haven't revoked your wizardry?"