She is only allowed to fly to her destination, not anywhere else. She notices that she is not where she should be, that she cannot progress to where she was told to go, and she careens out of control when her wings won't flap anymore, and she crashes.
"Cure or alleviate a steadily increasing variety of ills, kill each other with impressive efficiency, sustain more or less stable nations of tens or hundreds of millions of people, and that's all mostly without magic coming into it."
"The planet is a finite size and the population is growing. It's not practical for humans to avoid forming large communities indefinitely."
"Well, the fairy population grows, but I think much more slowly. And occasionally we do move to get farther away from each other."
Promise is a little confused by the rigmarole associated with entering the building but doesn't comment on it.
The books are organized according to bizarre and largely impenetrable local principles, but at least some of the divisions are recognizably by topic. The stuff on the easily visible shelves mostly doesn't obviously pertain to magic, but Sherlock goes behind the counter and starts pulling out piles of books manufactured in a less alien style; perhaps he knew where to find the good stuff.
Promise goes and looks at what he's pulled. "The organization system is weird," she comments.
"Some of it seems to be by topic, and it's grouped by author but the authors seem to be in random order."