All the baby miracles have flown! They love their Snitches.

In Ertydo a young man is hoping against hope that the store has the exact present he wants for his girlfriend on sale, because otherwise, he can't afford it. In Mekand a teenage girl wants a certain boy to think she's pretty. In Pleia a nine-year-old boy wants the war to be over. In Egeria a woman wants to live long enough to see her grandchild born. In Larotia a woman wants to get into architecture school so bad she can taste it. In one of the enclaves of ex-shrens a girl wants enough money to open a candy store. In Tenebirokalamikikek a new fry wants to be fast enough to keep up with the adult she prefers to follow around even though that adult is always moving around. In Reverni a thief wants to make a clean getaway with the painting rolled up under his arm.



"Korulen, what is it?"

"You can't co-cast a reversal," hisses Korulen. "We can't send him back."

"...oh no. At least he's asleep."

"He's not going to stay asleep the entire time I work on getting a familiar."

The young man wants tickets to an event. They're not on sale. Well, now he has enough money to pay for the tickets, and a murmured advisement to check his bag. (The money is collected by quietly shifting around lost change and neglected cash. He tries not to make money out of thin air too often.)

The girl who wants the boy to think she's pretty is harder to help; he leaves that one be.

The boy who wants to end a war... that sounds like the kind of thing that takes time. He makes a note to come back in a second, when he's seen to some other people.

Someone wants to live long enough to see her grandchild? Sure she can. He checks what's killing her - a disease called south flu, apparently - and eradicates it from existence, then solves any other miscellaneous health problems she may be experiencing and moves on.

Architecture school - another one to come back to later, if he can. But he suspects she'll be thinking about it a lot.

Enough money to open a candy store - she can have a sack of lost change from her own and neighbouring countries, patterned in miracle swirls and tied with a ribbon that feathers out into little Snitchlike wings. He has no idea if it'll open a candy store, but maybe it'll at least help her start.

The fry who wants a speed boost can have it, simple as that.

The thief - can get to the back of the line; what's this about a war in Pleia, again?

There is usually a war in Pleia; this particular one is with an extended tribe of Mrynish warriors using guerilla tactics. It's one of those stupid wars where neither party is legitimately aggrieved.

(The fellow buys the tickets; the woman feels abruptly better; the candy store girl is counting her cash and laughing; the merbaby is chasing her favorite grownup gleefully.)



"I'm gonna get expelled."

"They won't expel you, in case I can't get enough CC out of my familiar. But we are absolutely in trouble."

(The leonine student absents himself.)

He identifies who's fighting, what weapons they use - some of it is magic he doesn't want to remove from its owners; plenty of it is external weaponry about which he has no such qualms - and where any battles are presently being fought. There's two.

His best answer to the little boy's prayer: separate the combatants on each side in both battles, heal the wounded, resurrect anyone recently and cleanly enough dead that he doesn't have to go diving into the history of the world to reconstruct their brains, and replace all weapons - not just in active use in the battle, but any belonging to either army, at war or at home - with little bags of candy tied with shimmering rainbow ribbons. The ribbons, if straightened out from their cheerful bouncing curls, have the word 'peace' written from end to end in a randomly ordered combination of every local language.

It might not end the war, but it'll at least make everyone involved think twice about continuing. Similar tactics have proven surprisingly effective at home, in some situations.

Participants in the war are extremely surprised. They do not immediately start trying to kill each other again.



"We have to tell my mom."

"Are you positive there's no way to co-cast a reversal? Or do something else? Maybe we can think of something..."

Hey, he'll take it.

How about Architecture School - is she still praying? It hasn't been long; there's a good chance she hasn't moved on yet.

She's still thinking about it! She wants to build skyscrapers.



"We're not going to think of anything. We have to tell my mom."

A boy in Drast is lost and wants to go home. A vampire in Esmaar wishes her family would stop thinking she's crazy just because she can hear the voices of objects. A member of the dragon council wants a fucking explanation. A whole bunch of people in Oridaan want to be rich. That girl with the little sister he rescued wants to thank him. A student in Rannde wants a bigger channeling capacity. A sick light wishes he wasn't a light so one could heal him. Someone in Gibryel wants his book to sell. An old man in Tava wants his secretary to date him.



Korulen tells her mom.

The lost boy can be teleported home in a shower of rainbow sparkles. The Esmaarlan vampire - he can't do much for. (There's an entire kind of magic widely regarded as a disease? Maybe he'll think of something later.) The member of the dragon council can have a swirl-patterned note that says 'miracle' in Draconic and flutters its little paper wings to hover at eye level. (His human body mumbles that word, too.) The people in Oridaan can keep on wanting. The girl who wants to thank him can have a murmured, you're welcome. The student who wants a bigger channeling capacity - what's a channeling capacity? Come back to it later.

The sick light - can lights not heal lights? Can lights not heal themselves? This is clearly contrary to the point of lights and it can just stop. He provides the sick one, and any other light who happens to be sick or injured and not otherwise occupied, with a written suggestion that they try lighting up. He can't do much for book sales, but he drops a little luck-blessing on it; and the old man in Tava isn't even worth answering in the negative, which he reserves only for prayers that really tick him off.

Now: channeling capacity?

Yay, not lost anymore! - the dragon is unsatisfied with this explanation - the light fixes himself and so do other sick and hurt lights around the world -

Channeling capacity is the thing that wizards use to move power from the reservoir through the shape of their spells so that they can do magic.



Korulen's mom can't find an empathic signature coming off the kid in the summoning circle.

That would be because his mind is, not merely elsewhere, but effectively everywhere.

The reservoir... is interesting. Holding onto the prayer, he examines the situation more closely. The reservoir seems to be sort of alive, and it pays attention to people while they're in gestation but stops when they emerge into the world in whatever fashion is usual for their species, and while it is paying attention their CC accumulates.

It takes a little time, but isn't strictly impossible, to figure out how to suggest to the reservoir that it pay some more attention to this person. He does that. He's not sure how much their CC will increase, but even if it's just a single unit, prayer granted. Back to the dragon council -

The flying note grows a little more paper underneath its single word and asks the council member who still demands answers what more they'd like to know.

The council member wants to know who, and how, and why, and why now.



Keo can't really operate without an empathic signature, and she's disinclined to wake the sleeper. She shoos the girls out of the room and sits and waits.

The note expands some more:

Teah (the relevant word for 'miracle' again, rendered as a name)

Literal miracles

People were hurting

I only just came to this world and I don't know how I got here

The dragon council member has nothing to immediately add to his query.

Someone in a Corentan psychiatric hospital just wants the misery to stop. Someone in Linnip wants to win her scoot race. Someone in Nirlan wants to win the lottery. Someone in Rozarima wants the band practicing next door to shut up so she can nap. Someone in Kervaite wants the gang violence in his hometown to calm down. Someone in Imminthal wants this painting to come out well.

A skyfolk in Aveha wants to learn to fly already. A Mistalese poet wants inspiration. An Imilaatan kitchen appliance installer wants to be done for the day. A divorced man in Pra Verian wants to see his daughter. The princess of Saraan does not want to have to marry some objectionable person and would rather run away and be a dancer but she'd be recognized anywhere. A shipful of Koyapari wants this storm to leave them alone.

He doesn't have a good direct intervention for depression, but he can provide a colourful cuddly stuffed animal with an expression of sympathetic affection on its nonspecific adorable creature face. The racer in Linnip and the lottery player in Nirlan can each get a little luck-blessing. The person who wants the band next door to shut up can instead have better soundproofing in her home. The gang violence, when he looks, seems too personal to succumb to the candy treatment; he leaves it alone for now. The painter can have a luck-blessing too.

The skyfolk can have a little boost to the speed of their fledging, to take it to the fast end of the species' range instead of somewhere in the middle. The difference won't be visible for a while, but it's still a help even if they don't know it. The poet who wants inspiration can have a paper bird that flutters around and chirps pretty tunes. The kitchen appliance installer is out of Teah's hands; the divorcee likewise. (He's starting to be actually fond of that name. It's short and pretty and represents one of his proudest accomplishments.) The princess can have the choice to pick a second face, and the ability to switch back and forth between that and her original one. The sailors can have the storm neatly unravelled.

In the circle, the boy yawns. His empathic signature flickers into being - flickers back out almost immediately - in again as he stretches, out for a heartbeat as he flops his face back into the blanket, and then finally in for good as he opens his eyes and utters a confused wordless mumble.

The depression patient pats the stuffed animal, confused.

The soundproofed person falls asleep.

The poet is charmed and entertained and inspired.

The princess slips into her second face and sneaks out.

The sailors proceed, praising their good fortune.

"There you are," murmurs Keo.

"Nobody's ever managed that before," he muses, gathering his blanket around him and sitting up. The chalk diagram attracts his attention. He reaches out to smudge it. This does not work.

...He looks up at Keo.