And since, despite the world's admitted tendency towards situations best left in the more dramatic varieties of literature, it wasn't literally a stereotypical gothic novel, Kanimir didn't expect anything in particular to happen. If nothing else, there were far more storms that happened to happen at night than there were potentially literature-worthy shenanigans. So it's completely reasonable for him to be curled up in his grand library, enjoying a book on magical theory.
"How do they end up naturally producing magic...? I guess if you knew you would probably have said already."
"Perhaps. There are a few gates which human visitors can pass through without serious risk so long as they know what they're doing."
"It's possible that the reflections of different kinds of fae would be very different, and I don't think I have a safe way to see to it that you meet many different kinds."
"I'd be interested to find out what even one of their reflections looks like. What kinds are there?"
"It would be hard to say precisely, since the lines between varieties aren't very clearly drawn. The most that I can say for sure are that the nobility are their own kind if any are, and that some have wings and others don't. But there is a startling diversity of physical characteristics within the population."
"Oh. I was just wondering if maybe - it probably isn't right, but maybe a lot of them were shifters once. Sometimes if shifters change themselves in odd ways their children keep the changes."
"We could make a short trip of a few hours, or a trip of a few days in which it would hopefully be possible for you to meet more fairies."
"Alright. I don't believe there are any gates open for that long, but I can teleport us, and there should be gates open that long from each other."
He's going to be poring over this almanac thing for the next little while, if she had any questions or wants to go back to her reading.
He's proud of it.
Eventually, he says, "There's a good window in a bit more than a week."