"It would have taken longer to follow your Mageprice if the village were not enchanted. It is less than a square mile going by circumference, but contains considerably more interior than that would suggest." She picks a direction; plants subtly bend out of the way.

"It's called 'enchantment'. I received the ability to use this, and another, kind of magic from distant friends of mine."

"...I have more questions now than I did before you said that," he observes.

"That is all right. I am unusual among elves in that I am not bothered by being asked questions."

"I noticed that! What friends, how distant, why aren't you asking them about the needs of far-flung peoples, how come I've never heard of this kind of magic before, how did you make the village?"

Isibel laughs. They come to an empty house, which is presented to them directly enough that it must be an empty one suitable for Lycaelon to stay in. She opens the door and gestures that he may enter. "If you would like, I can sit with you and discuss it, since you will be helping me." (The house will be his for the duration of his stay; she won't just walk in.)

"That sounds good," he says, entering the house and looking around.

In she goes. It is an elfy house, in comfort and aesthetics and subtlety, and an enchanted house, in obliging convenience. She sits in a chair. "My friends are not of this world. They are from others, very different, with other magics and people - and their own work to do. Moreover, it is - not always possible to travel between worlds at will."

"...Seriously?" says Lycaelon, blinking at her.

"I am simplifying slightly, but yes."

"Wow. Okay. So... enchanting is a whole different kind of magic? How different? What's its price?"

"Completely different. It hurts to cast spells with it, but I can ignore that by going deep into meditative hyperfocus."

"How does it work?" he asks, fascinated.

"I draw on power from the sky, or the earth, or emotion or willpower - which works best depends on what I am doing and what is available - and channel it through my mindscape, in the shape of the spell I wish to cast."

"Where does it come from? Will it work for anyone?"

"Enchanting comes from a world called Rêverie. It only works for enchanters; I was not one, but my friends made me one."

"How do you make someone an enchanter? What's the catch? Is there one?"

"It cannot be done with enchantment itself, but it can be done with another sort of off-world magic, called minting. There is no particular disadvantage to merely being capable of enchantment."

"...That sounds like there is a catch somewhere," he says.

"Losing control of an enchantment while casting it is dangerous," says Isibel. "And, as I mentioned, it hurts for the channeler, unless you can elven-hyperfocus as I do. And minting is not without its own price, which I cannot ignore in the same way."

"Hmm. Okay," says Lycaelon. "What's minting like, then?"

"It depends on the size of the wish. They come in eight known kinds, the objects different shapes with different numbers of points from three to ten. The smallest two sorts are easy to make. I produce them every day as a matter of course. I would not care to try to make anything larger except in direst emergency; I have a supply, from my friends, but they cannot reach me with more right now and I do not know how long it will be before I can see them again. An ordinary human - or elf - cannot make the kinds with eight, nine, or ten points; the requirements are beyond the limit of what you can feel without some sort of change to how you work. And maintaining the concentration to make a six-pointed coin, let alone a seven-pointed coin, while suffering the requisite discomfort, would take considerable effort for most people."