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Truly, life could not get much better.

It all started with a simple decision. A simple decision to step up the game, to show the world what she could really do. Now everything was at her leisure. The leisure of a mind freed from pressure and restraint, the leisure of a relaxed lifestyle punctuated with a daily visit to the Magus Library, and the leisure to imbue a stage magic act with true magic, to inspire_real_ awe in those who watched--not merely awe in one's ability to suspend their disbelief.

However, that remained, somewhat ironically in Tali's mind, the most entertaining aspect of her line of work: to keep the audience guessing, to force them into taking stabs in the dark--which was the real magic? Which was mere smoke and mirrors? They would never know, she would never tell, and that made it all the more engrossing and powerful.

And now? Now she could joyfully describe herself as two steps from famous. Maybe she had already crossed that line; who knew? She didn't, nor did she give it a particular mind. The popularity was merely a blithe side effect of what she really aimed for; a goal to entertain, to satisfy, and she had struck the bull's-eye dead-on.

The leopardess shook away her thoughts and returned her mind to her present occupation. One pensive trace of a finger through the dusty air was telling of the leopardess' concentration. The singular motion became another, then twice more, while mystical blue marks hung stiff as though painted onto the wind by her fluid fingertips.

Tali had to wonder: what was next? Could she accomplish more? And if so, when would it happen, and how could she spur it? With a restrained breath, she let her focus drift away and allowed her spell to fade, for her passive cogitations were beginning to overcome the magic.

She managed a quick look to her right, spying something that never ceased to renew pride in her. A silver statue in the shape of a wand, perched decisively upon the top of her personal bookshelf. Engraved upon a plaque at its base followed: "Natali DeCoryza, Terecher Award: Originality".

Hints of a smile manifested around the easily-hidden corners of Tali's face. The Terecher Award--handed out biennially by none other than Terecher, the locally-active face of the governmental branch of magic--was no easy thing to earn, though ever since her promotion to Stage-Mage three months ago, however much she hated to be frank, hers had become a massively recognizable name. While Tom would hypocritically assert that she "needed no such ego-stroking", it was simply and without a doubt the most amazing thing that could have ever happened to her.

But perhaps where the award was located was more to her pride than the award itself. Finally, as it had been her lucid dream of practicality, her success allowed her the fortune to afford a new home among Keenfolk, the small people she so adored and of which her audience was comprised.

It was a cozy hovel, harboring only the necessary room for a single inhabitant--a single bathroom, bedroom, and den--and Tali insisted that she required little. The house was of average size and had the telling scents and certain nooks of age, though she had made attempts to clean it up wherever she saw fit, dusting away webs and making it a general policy to shove furniture toward the edges of the rooms for maximum spell-practice space.

But again, the magus shoved her thoughts away, proud and reconstituted for a second attempt.

Tali, kneeling attentively upon the center of the den's floor, allowed her toes to dig into the rug as she cast one more glance toward an open book at her side, one whose words encompassed the general basics of some spell's workings. Through furrowed brow and faint pleased curvature of the lips, a small whisper that became wind was then uttered. The spotted mage prepared herself with a deep breath, then attempted to reignite the spell she had slaved upon over the past two weeks, letting her clawed fingers slice through the air with purposeful methodization.

Again, the blue incarnation of her magic remained where her motions passed--her heartbeat quickened just so, she was back on track. Her eyes glinted with mystical interest and determination; there was a spark in the air. It drew the breath straight from her lungs and summoned a chill that went down her spine and to her toes, but she continued, for no doubt success was absolute. She had to focus harder, keep breathing, just finish the spell--

"You done playing tic-tac-toe with yourself or what?"

The lucid markings left hanging in the air drooped and fell, becoming shimmering dust along the floor as the spell fizzled and died as a result of the interruption. The ruined magic tore the air right out the soft-spoken lips of Tali in surprise as, once again, something had broken apart her focus. At this rate she'd never perfect conjuration in time for next week's performance...and lord did she know how physically and mentally taxing a process learning a new spell was.

"What is it?" She hissed, giving an arch-eyed stare at the intruder. "I'd simply remorse to ruin your ignorance, Tom, but for whatever reason I'll take up the mantle. I have something called a 'job' which generally involves doing this crazy concept--you sure you're okay so far? Okay. This concept is called 'work'." Dry enough to begin spilling sand from her mouth, the cat kept a sincere visage. She culminated the pursuit of her breath with a swift sigh. "I thought I'd try something new. Conjuration is a field I've never researched before; it's always been emulation, illusion, some miscellaneous cantrips and such."

"Excellent." The newcomer, a floating brown tome, paused for a moment. "Hm, yes, cantrips are the lowest-class spells. Plebian magic, really. You'd best learn to do better than that now that your career depends on it. And similarly speaking regarding your frail grasp of mage-work, Tali, emulation is a subschool of conjuration--technically, you already understand it. Simply, emulation doesn't create a permanent object, only one that _looks_like what you want to create."

The leopardess scoffed at his attempt to one-up her. "Duh. However, conjuration is also its own subschool within the broader school under the same name, which deals with the manifestation of true physical objects." A calculating smirk began its first stages of growth across Tali's face. "Nevertheless, it was good of you to test me."

Tom Ethro floated before her, chain bindings undone and hanging lazily about. There was no doubt to the reasoning behind his good mood. In response to Tali's words, the letters of ownership across his cover and spine shimmered with their own dim green light. Whether it meant proud, sad, frustrated, joking or simply happy, the only telling physical feature of the book was unfathomable.

"Ach. Bookworm, that's what you are. And I despise nothing more!"

Tali giggled a childlike one and stood from her kneel, dusting off nonexistent debris from her violet gown.

"And hey, for goodness' sake, get dressed! It's already noon and you're not even in pants, you lazy cat."

"I don't have work today, Tom. I'll get dressed when I feel like it," Tali said with crossed arms. "Right now I'm trying to finish a spell, so if you have nothing more to say I'd like to get back to it." She drew away, muttering something about being just the opposite of lazy.

"Yes, I'll leave when I have nothing more to say, yes. Unfortunately for you and your 'job', this message is absolutely compulsory." Tali let out an audible sound of questioning as Tom opened his pages to let fall a single slip of paper, embellished with blue ink and an all-too familiar signature.

"What...what's this, then?" The leopardess bent to receive the envelope. "Ethro?"

"It would seem so. It was in the leybox this morning." Leyboxes supported the use of ley-lines, conduits of magical energy naturally embedded into the earth, for the purpose of delivery and mail transportation. Their ideological conception several decades prior sparked the construction of artificial ley-lines connecting post offices and homes of residence for their use. "I went to go get it while you were dinking around with magical finger paint. You're welcome."

"Suppose I'll read it," Tali muttered, unable to purge the feeling that she might be disappointed by the news.

"Aloud, thank you very much. I'd rather not hang over your shoulders since you haven't so much as washed up."

"Oh be quiet, I'm clean. But I shall read it for you since you probably can't read anyway. Such is the life of a book," Tali retorted smartly. She breathed in, ignoring the brief rambling emitted by Tom.

"'Greetings, student! You may have heard about the new law being set in place by Terecher Offices.'" A quick glance to Tom, who made the most similar motion to a shrug possible. "'Regardless, this is of the utmost importance to us at Ethro, and it involves all of our students--past and present--who do not fit the criteria of this new law. Whether you know of it and are simply ignoring it, or are unaware, please meet your professors at Ethro grounds at the date signed at the bottom of this letter. Prudence and patience, students.'"

The slip of paper fell halfheartedly from her grip. Contemplating various things, the leopardess took to sitting down. She absently slipped fingers through her golden hair and brushed downward in a show of thought and the desire to alleviate the slightly unkempt feeling in her locks.

"That's strange," she muttered. "Are they even able to do that? Can they roll back all of their graduates," Tali snapped her fingers, "Just like that?"

"I dunno," Tom replied. "Wouldn't be smart to say no to whatever it happens that they want, though." The leopardess-magus appreciated his seriousness for the time being, acknowledging it with a nod.

"True...if the mages want us back, they certainly have more than one way of getting us. Nothing to do but roll with it for the time. Until then, I'll be preparing for my next show. It's in about a week, so that's after the meeting at Ethro. Have to schedule this."

"Ah, yes...what you call your 'job'. If you think about it, Tali...how deserving are you of that award?" Tom asked, now facing the titular silver wand set upon the shelf.

Tali looked nearly offended at such an assertion. "Pardon? I think we've earned it just fine."

"That's not what I mean. I mean it is simply a shame." Tom opened briefly as if to make some action, but then closed again, leaving Tali to wonder just what he wanted. "Ours is the age that promotes imagination, where the creative rule and have all the power. It is the closest thing to a silver age this world has ever seen, yet such is the apparent difficulty of originality and thought that everyone slips between the cracks and lets their potential rot. You're one of the few who haven't...and let's be honest, I had to step in anyway. Great things tend to happen when I make decisions for you."

"Well, wonderful, now I'm not sure whether to thank you or to slap you. But let's get the facts straight first: I had the idea, I simply didn't want to do it. Now it's acceptable." She shook her head. "However, I do see your point, and I must agree. I think...that's just what magic does to people. It narrows their minds because of its extraneous nature and because of how much work it takes to understand it, and master it. It is a skill, a talent, and a gift to some extent, but nobody can inherit experience."

"Right, well said. If you ask me, it's--hey! Just what do you think you're doing?"

The leopardess had suddenly grabbed him from the air, producing a pen from the nearby counter, and opened him.

"Just writing down the date of Ethro's campus meeting...there. Wouldn't want to forget, would we?"

"No," Tom grumbled, "We wouldn't. You're lucky I have twenty blank pages or you'd be full of it right now."

"Either that or someone _else_had the mind to use you as a diary before me," she finished, promptly shutting him with a single hand.

****

There were three reasons the leopardess preferred not to remain her natural Mag size, which was a thing that went to the implicit yet passive and curious admonishing of others of her kin. The first was a matter of her delight around the adorable Keens, the second was her disdain for attention on part of her rather introverted nature, while the third was her fear of destruction. She could not recall a single time that she had caused the death or pain of another, but she always suspected that being taller than the buildings around her was simply asking for an accident to happen.

The feline sorceress's mind had ingrained in it nightmares about stepping on townsfolk from when she was younger, for as a curious kit she would escape her home at night to watch the little people scurry about in the nooks of their model streets, like moths in their elegance under the glow of the starry sky. Inviting as her mind was, it traveled to the all-too possible accident; feeling the life slip away from another being underneath her paws--just the thought was enough to make her shudder.

Other penumbral visions had been more vivid, involving terrified screaming of those she could not see, the initial halting of her uneasy step--too brief to notice--caused by the frame of a Keen beginning to give way as she bore down on them, then the eventual culminating crunch, followed by the terrible realization of what she had done. It was all simply too much to bear, even in her head. The legal consequence of such was the least of her concern; it was the gnawing, horrendous guilt she knew she would feel if such a thing ever happened that would hurt her the most.

Perhaps that was a reason for Sven, as well--a reason for Sven to opt his time among other Mags. Not all Magfolk magi were aware of--or cared much for--the shrinking spell created for ease of interaction, so plenty of her kind were decidedly solitary folk. That much was out of respect for the Keenfolk; there was no animosity of any sort to be found between the two. Though Tali could not help but wonder if it was always that way...

Time flew by a little quicker than she had expected, such was her walk spent in mindfulness. But then, all that time was spent on continued practice--and with mostly fruitless results, she had to grudgingly admit, for Tom seemed to make it his duty to heckle her at all the wrong times. In truth, she couldn't find herself minding the book much otherwise; he was as much a friend as anybody and had proven it time and time again.

And nothing proved their friendship quite as well as keeping him at her side, bound at all times, a place where she could regulate him just perfectly.

During the droll of her walk, Tali noted the practiced simplicity of her shrinking spell that no longer required focus to keep in effect. Such was telling of how often she used it, she mused. As she crossed the streets--yes, it was this way, wasn't it?-- from her home, she nearly chuckled at the thought that she hid so often among Keens that even she had nearly forgotten which end of the city lead to the section of the Outer Rings in which Sven lived.

Along the way, the encompassing size of her workplace caught her eye. Renton Theater, now much-refurbished since the time she first applied there for work, stood tall and proud. Pulling her robe's hood over her head for the sake of practical anonymity in response to potential fans, Tali glanced at a budding group of disappointed Keens standing by.

According to the three taped-up notes on the glass doors, the theater was closed today due to "internal services", whatever that meant. Probably other entertainers having to move around their schedules, Tali concluded. That, and Warren more or less relied on her for success now. He was less like a manager and more like a leech, though Tali doubted any manager in his place would react to her sudden surge in popularity much differently.

White emanations of light spilled unobtrusively through the centers of streets, warm and lucid. They were the ley-lines--at least, the artificial ones, for the natural ones were both sparse to find and did not always lead anywhere important--constructed by Terecher. Each line branched off into buildings of nearly every sort, ending in pale white glowing containers that jutted out of the ground in cylindrical shapes.

An idea then struck her: could the ley-lines transport anything larger than simply packages and letters? She'd given it passing thought before, but--on a certain level, maybe, just perhaps, if she wasn't overthinking it; goodness, her uncertainty showed at times--could ley-lines theoretically_be used as a form of public transportation? Now how come nobody else had thought of that before? Nothing bad ever seemed to happen to the things delivered through them. Not to say that dissipation or the lot of similar spells _didn't have the potential to be dangerous in the hands of a well-intentioned amateur--or a malicious expert, on the other end of the scale, not that those seemed to even exist--but, she thought sternly, all one had to do was have somebody more seasoned cast the spell for them. It would open up job opportunities and generally make life easier for anybody trying to get around.

I think I'm on to something with this mind-narrowing-magic thing, she deliberated to herself, amused. Maybe she'd write a book about it someday. Assuming nobody else does first...ha!

"Hm?" The leopardess jerked back to reality as a spark of...something struck her nose. She flinched and whapped the tingle it left away with a wayward reflex, proceeding to rub her muzzle curiously. "What was--"

A loud, grating noise suddenly exploded into being to rupture her sensitive ears, like a cacophonous amalgamation of steel scraping stone, the death throes of a hundred bats and lightning striking a forest all at once, forcing the cat--squealing a feline howl of terror--feet into the air. It was all she could do to prevent the sound from overcoming her senses once she composed while simultaneously judging that it came from directly behind her, in the house whose street corner she had just walked by.

And just as quickly as it had started, the sound died into little crackles, as though disarmingly pretending that nothing had happened. The attempt was laughably unsuccessful.

Tali unsuccessfully attempted to regain her breath, panting in hyperventilation from the massive start. "Did someone...?"

She scanned the building, evasive and still somewhat on edge, finding that no damage could have been done aside from the noise itself, letting out a breath of reprieve. Merely out of a lack of any other idea, she unbuckled Tom. Not that he would know...

"What was that?" she asked, futilely in mind--again, it wasn't as if he would know. She merely wanted the urge to ask to settle the festering in her gut. The book took to administering his newfound freedom by detaching from her waist and settling to a hover.

"Cordest--wild magic," Tom replied matter-of-factly. "Now that's a rare occurrence. An unhappy coincidence..."

"Wild magic?" Tali asked, whiskers twitching with newfound curiosity and the static remnants of chaotic magic brimming in the air, dissipating even as they spoke. "There's a term for it?" Heck, he knew what it was at all? But only one went spoken, while the other faded as Tom explained.

"Indeed there is," Tom replied. "I can say with certainty that reports of cordest have only happened a number of...recorded times. Recorded being to say, I know of them."

"What?" Tali found herself asking the same question again, attempting to find some other way to inquire without setting herself up for a good mocking. "You know, I never did bother reading much of you. What is written in those pages of yours?"

Though it was an evasive attempt, such was true: when she had animated him under the prompt of her professors during the final exam at Ethro, she had merely chosen a book from the libraries at random. The book bore the mark of the school itself, and as Tali had thought it fitting, its name had become his own. But just what exactly lay within...such was something he wasn't always willing to share, likely the effect of a considerable dignity.

Tom hesitated, but only briefly. He did not like being cornered. "It appears that I'm six chapters history text, five chapters spell tome, and ten pages kitty diary." He said the last with easily-missed bits of contempt. "There's also a..." he suddenly stopped. "Yeah."

"That...doesn't make sense." Tali raised an eyebrow with suspicion. It was difficult for her to tell if he was simply joking.

But Tom was jovial. "You know me, I'm pretty much ancient. Whenever I was written, things were probably different."

Such was more true than he let on. But the book had his reasons.

Tali would inquire further, but four suited men seemed to materialize at the foot of the house, then knock on the door of the abode at which the wild magic originated. Terecher lackeys, she thought, come to inspect the source of cordest. Was that how it worked? Made sense, as snooping as it was. Tali, considering the rest to be none of her business--though briefly wondering how she'd missed the men as they walked up--continued past the spectacle and on to her own destination.

Cordest was nothing short of a sensational happening, Tom knew; the most prime example that magic was, indeed, a chaotic force by its very nature. He'd found it humorous that Tali had learned this herself through her various attempts at stage magic; it was a thing that lived, that wanted to exert itself, to express its existence--though her case was in no small part due to her teasing the idea of real magic during her acts, subconsciously or otherwise--an abstract power that could never be held back for long.

But on the other end of the spectrum, if it was toyed with to an extent too far for a mage's level of skill or understanding, the force would lash back violently, resulting in the phenomenon known as cordest.

And then there was the macabre, lonely in-between; if the power was latent but had no conduit to travel through...that could be the worst of it all. Such meaning if a magus understood magical power, but used it only sparingly, or if one utilized magic commonly but without failing, it--oh dear. How...long had it been, again? His memory failed him too heartily. Three months?

He might have a problem on his pages. But he could say nothing of it. Not yet.

"Well," Tali started, obviously a bit worried. "Is cordest...deadly? That was a _horrible_sound. And now it stopped like it didn't commit aural murder, or, like, murder of any other kind. I don't buy it."

"Hm. Certainly, cordest can be harmful or deadly--but to say such would be to ignore that it's just as likely to put dandruff in one's pants. Its effects are almost entirely random." His voice turned pseudo-intellectual, somewhat joking in its very nature but wary of its own truth. "Most of the time it just staggers the guy who made it happened." The immensely unsettling noise accompanying every time without fail was punishment enough, it must have decided. Or at least so Tom liked to imagine, just to entertain himself.

But...as much as he loved to have Tali assume otherwise, there was something biting at him. Unease. If he so much as had a stomach he assumed it would be turning on itself.

"It seems a little odd," Tom started suddenly. "Cordest, eh? I could jot down their happenings within the past fifty years in double font on a half-page. Why now?"

Tali shrugged, still looking warily right and left. "There could be nothing to attribute it to but mere coincidence. Such is magic's way."

There was truth to that, the tome had to admit.

"Oh, now you act like you know what you're talking about. But you know better than what you just said, don't you? 'Magic does not simply act without source'." There was something ominous about his tone.

Tali pondered briefly, paw to chin, eyes darting as if to catch wandering thoughts as they passed. "...Perhaps, no, you're correct. Magic does not, but such a fact says little here. What I mean is that anybody can attempt a complex spell and fail, right? With that in mind, I'm surprised it does not happen more often than it currently does."

"Or...something else pulled the trigger." Tom hovered around her like an agitated insect. "It found a way. I'm already a bit wary, but...really, I don't think I like this."

"What things?" Tali huffed. "You're jumping to conclusions that don't exist." She snapped her fingers suddenly, eyes drifting to the air. "Shoot, I almost forgot. We've dallied in town for too long, Sven's waiting for me in the Rings."

She upped her pace just so, not bothering at first to buckle Tom back to her.

"You say this now, Tali, you say this now..."

Tali sighed and forced a laugh at his mere fun-poking, which was mostly directed at himself. "Oh, shush. There's no room for superstition." She glanced around; out of town yet? No, just a few more blocks.

Faux contemplatively, Tom asked, "Now, where would there be room for superstition in a world such as ours? Alongside the magic and what else have you."

Apparently fed up, Tali snatched him and latched him back to the bronze chain at her belt. His muffled, surprised battling ceased after a few brief moments. With a sigh, she admitted that at the very least he had little issue with where he was.

Making sure she was clearly outside city boundaries and with nothing that could be harmed nearby, Tali mentally unlocked the shrinking spell. Though she was tentative and cautious; oh, it had been so long since she left the Rings and stayed among Keens, and only slightly less long since she had actually returned to her true size. This would be an experience.

Tali took a deep breath, then exhaled; so began the process of reversion to normal size. The experience was as exhilarating as it was nearly painful, for her body had practically accustomed itself to being so much smaller. Buildings in the distance began to feel lesser, smaller, and such was the truth, but her gaze turned from the city and to her side, where Tom lay unassumingly.

How the spell itself worked was...interesting, she found. Interesting but no less practical and I could ask for nothing more, she hurriedly corrected in her mind, not wanting to risk a divine prank. Tom would resize as desired with her, as would anything she was touching--including her clothes, a fact she couldn't thank anybody for enough--but, as magic originates in the mind and being the primary concept she had learned at Ethro, it gets weaker the lower through one's body it goes. As such, while her entire body would retain the spell, once the magic was forced to pass through her paws and the barrier of flesh and fur thereof, it had all but dissipated, leaving the earth below completely untouched.

Tali shook her head, now a true Mag, a titan among Keens, the very motion causing a breeze the smaller folk would notice and that gently, unnoticeably swayed the nearby pines. Who she was by her very birth was something too easy to fear--that she herself feared more than anybody--but it was something that could not be avoided forever.

****

It wasn't every day the ocelot felt so....purposeful. For once he had a job to do, and that was something he'd been awaiting for...damn, ever since he became a councilman? Long time. A decade and a half if he had to guess, or if he had to root around the darkest corners of his own head.

And he really didn't like feeling old. He went with the guess.

At least, he was part of a council. That was long ago as well, he thought disdainfully. Nowadays they never used such primordial words, did they? They were a branch. Something that belonged to something else, a fraction of the government's power. However, he insisted otherwise; on the council--not a branch--that was Terecher, he was by and large a solo operative.

"Would you consider it your next big move, or would it simply be answering a call?" a greenhorn sheep asked. His light, bleating voice echoed dimly through the wooden frames of bookshelves lining the walls.

"Nothing so harsh," the ocelot returned. "Well, maybe something along the lines of the latter. Answering a call? Yeah, I think I like that. Er, wait, listen--we have a target, we know what's happening, and really, who's gonna solve the cordest issue but us?"

"From what I understand, it's really been a while since the last time you were...uh, 'called upon'." The third voice belonged to a ferret. "And frankly, I'm not so sure about this. I-I don't like to take any pieces with this whole abracadabra thing--"

"--Did you just call magic the 'abracadabra thing'?" The ocelot wasted no time in interrupting. "Oh lord, you need to get a reality check...look, anybody can use magic. You could if you so much as tried. Don't treat it like it's something foreign, Warren."

"I'm not gifted," the ferret shook his head, shifting a paw with light discomfort. "And I'm not ignorant either. My star is a genius in that regard, I don't need any more than that." He jumped at the opportunity to swap subjects. "So what's the issue then, Medric?"

"The issue is that cordest is happening and I happen to know why," Medric replied with his calm, smooth voice. He then stood straight and methodic, shoving a chair into its place underneath a desk. "And I also know what to do about it, because nobody else will. Cordest has been popping up like weeds all around town, and isn't the cause obvious?"

And yet it's something the media doesn't grab a hold of, he jadedly remarked in his head. They were way too relaxed, he had to assert, all they cared about were the good things, never anything that might be an issue. But that was why he was who he was.

"Alright, yeah," the sheep interjected, "But at the same time, doesn't cordest...you know, fizzle out on its own? And it's never deadly." He seemed hesitant to continue, shy and a little nervous at his recent knowledge. "I-if anything, it's a good learning experience for magi--

"So what if it fizzles out? It happens to constitute as disturbing of the peace, and the last thing we want is to arrest people for accidents."

The sheep sighed. This guy was off his rocker...at least, if he had his _own_research right. The ovine hoped he wasn't making any mistakes. That would be just awful. "I get that and all, but class is gonna start up soon, and--"

"Yes, yes, pack your things kiddo," the cat replied, waving a hand. Though he was certain spending time in the Loom would earn him extra credit over detention for Ethro students. "You've got your own role to play here, just pay attention in class and help spread the word to stragglers: get a familiar or no magic for you. Simple."

"Uh-huh..." The sheep started off.

The ocelot turned his black-and-brown speckled muzzle toward the ferret, which just about managed to startle him with the speed of the motion. "And as for you; we've already had this discussion. Somehow, you're gonna have to break it to your 'star'. She has to renew her magical license and fill out the new criteria, otherwise your business will be an illegality." He stood up to leave himself.

"...You're leaving something out." The ferret kept his eyes locked. Perhaps nothing he had to be concerned with, but...he was curious. "I can't help but feel there's something you're not telling. Is cordest really all there is to it?"

The cat smirked, green eyes refusing to blink as they bore into the ferret in thought. "Let's just say I have ties with Ethro, and that there are some things that should remain hidden."

"Hidden?" The ferret thought he might be pressing too much, though did not listen to that aspect of him. "Hidden...where?"

The ocelot's expression went grim and ready. He snapped his fingers and, for just a brief, fleeting moment, Warren could swear he'd seen the fingers light aflame. And to the subtle confirmation of his illusion, the thinnest stream of smoke lingered in the pine-smelling air.

"Hidden in school property."

****

And what a glorious day it was to be bound and shut! The sun was pretty much perfect and not a cloud in the sky, really--not that he cared at all, it was only a matter of principle. But that was all okay; even though he couldn't be out to enjoy these things that he didn't particularly enjoy, it still stoked his paper just a bit that Tali cared enough to take him with her this time.

Before, not so much. And recently, too, it had become a little melancholy...

What was a book after all but the sum of its parts? All 492 pages, each the same material, but each worth nothing alone. Then, bound cover to cover and with his very essence--then and only then was he worth something. But boy is it a something! Every bit of knowledge engraved into him, every last spell, every battle of days past--it was all a permanent aspect of who and what he was. He could never forget a single bit of it. They comprised him.

And that was what made him unique. Aside from the general lack of living books, of course. Infused with natural knowledge, to be sure, but the ability to learn--though Tali might pejoratively insist that his prowess there was very limited--which was the result of an incredibly powerful, skillful, and tact weave of various magical spells, was what really embellished his value. He proved through his very existence that archmagi, or rather their equivalents, still lived on to this day. He was a free being, unlike his immobile brethren--and when least expected, startlingly intelligent.

Freedom was a thing not oft-earned, either, that's if he learned anything about history during his time. And Tali might not believe him, but if she took five minutes to read him she'd know that this was stuff he could literally never forget. Oh, he could draw any number of parallels between his place in the two-member hierarchy consisting of him and Tali, and the rebellious triumph of Magfolk over the streams of time. Again his silence was forced, and why? Simply because she didn't like what he had to say.

Hmph. Typical Tali.

But, every book has its day; he'd have his eventually. Tali would appreciate him, that was for sure! He wondered if telling her the true nature of her shrinking spell would burst any of her bubbles, or would just pique her curiosity. After all, the years following the conflict so long ago was mostly spent with both Keenfolk and Magfolk coming up with some way to make coexistence easier. What better than anti-magic, a spell for magical suppression? Nothing more fitting, that was for sure.

Hm. Where were they now? Sometimes it was difficult telling just where it was that the leopardess was taking him, and he'd rather shake his thoughts away for a moment. Okay, trees, that's a sign. Some dirt. Buildings in the distance. Good, good, he could tell that he was...

...Outside. Excellent. Remarkable detective work, he had to give himself some credit.

He had to admit, it was a little disappointing how often Tali locked herself up, to practice on her lonesome, with less and less time each day to keep him company. Hell, what do books do for fun, he had to think every now and then. It wasn't as if he could simply leave; he was bound to her. Oftentimes literally. Oh, woe is the cobbled path my semi-life takes me down...

It wasn't all about him, either. It had been so long since he'd seen the leopardess outwardly happy, rather than experimenting with new spells or burying herself in some book that wasn't him. Or at least it felt like it. Then again, that probably was what made her happy...still, he'd enjoy--he hesitated to admit it--her company every now and again; maybe just to make her laugh, because he was thoroughly convinced that her soft, pretty laugh could cure cancer.

Well, frankly, that and it was an out-and-out privilege to be owned by a mage that wasn't a complete muggins. Not a complete muggins, he thought with amusement.

Well, maybe he could entertain himself. He swayed to his sides whimsically using the chain that kept him there like a swing, but that proved boring a little too quickly for his posh and refined tastes. Maybe some magic? Oh, he liked that idea. That tree to the right looked like a decent enough target.

Without giving it a second thought he let loose some careless and unrefined spell, more or less letting the magic travel straight through him to see what would happen. He was hardly partial to the outcome--

--And then a few of the leaves burst into cinders with a loud poof, leaving the ashes to float to the ground unassumingly. If he had eyes he was certain they'd be the slightest popped, surprised yet pleased somehow with the result all the same. But, sadly, he did not, and his reaction remained invisible.

The titanic Tali gasped above, whipped around for the source of the sound, then turned to give a stern look to the only possible source of the disruption. "Quit messing around, please," she said.

Odd. He'd never been able to create miniature combustions before. Ah well. Cool, he thought, how he didn't have to focus or meditate or say some silly words like Tali did just to cast a spell. The magic was a part of him, and technically speaking he didn't really have a brain--which, of course, was just a layman's term for an overly complicated series of conduits through which magic had to travel, really. And a meager cognitive organ, but that was beside the point.

Hmm...he'd never really taken the time to analyze himself like he just then decided to, but he could feel a little something going on. Somewhere down the spine of his bindings, yes--its mannerisms, the way it tickled to think about; a core of sorts? No doubt that's what it was. The source of his animation. There was a pulse that resounded throughout his pages, though extremely innocuous and subtle. Magic, and lots of it, he could tell. Now that's what a brain should be like! But, he thought, resuming a bout of amused swaying, All I have to do is think, then cast, unlike poor Tali.

Being an inherently magical being was one thing he could appreciate. Even though Mags were as well ever since the aftermath of the civil battles hundreds of years ago, now coined the Western Hunting...but no, no, it wasn't quite the same, because they were still people and thus had their bodily limitations. Ha!

However, the process of casting was only quicker for him by a small margin, but he'd never admit that.

Unfortunately, as he scanned himself, there was something else he could feel. It traveled and weaved throughout his pages, throughout the words within him--something foreign. Something malign. It pulsed with a life that was not his own. He feared before...and now there was evidence.

But still, there could be no word. One more thing to stress Tali? Never. Absolutely never. He knew that she didn't take bad news terribly well, she was far too soft...and he was a friend. He could solve it.

Besides, who said I can't have a bit of fun with a bit of chaos?

...In retrospect, that was an odd thought. But hey, it came close enough to his prankster habits.

The book fell away from his bored musings, instead deciding a quick nap would be more appropriate.

****

"Well, we're away from public and the Rings are probably ten minutes away," Tali spoke, half to herself and half to her personal grimoire. Her golden-blonde hair, wavy and stretching just past her shoulders, swished with the subtle movements of her neck as she inspected her forested surroundings. It had been too long, she thought with a sigh. The Mag had just about left a trail in her wake, a trail paved into the earth in the form of a series of gigantic indentations shaped uncannily like pawprints.

The giantess desperately clung to the main path as much as possible, but the roads between the Rings and Keen settlements never were priority to pretty up and therefore weren't always easy to spot...so there were a few missteps. Thankfully, little damage had been done--and what damage it was had only been applied to a few trees--while the trail she left behind was considered a priority by fussy Keens. They'd refill the holes with nearby uplifted dirt--technically she was creating job opportunities, so she had no regrets--and clean up the path probably by the next morning.

Though Tali imagined that if they just slapped down some stake markers or another such thing visible from above, much fewer issues of the sort would come about to begin with. Maybe some airport runway lights.

In the somewhat close distance, Tali could spot the vague shapes of buildings meant for her and her own. It was a familiar sight, and a pleasant one, but it would still be a time before she actually got there.

What to do in the meanwhile...

Oh. Poor Tom, having to sit there for so long.

With care and deft fingers befitting one so cautious with her options, Tali retrieved her book once again. "Tom?"

"Hm?" The book was silent for the first few moments, but recovered from lethargy unnaturally quickly. "Pardon me, miss, I was napping!"

"It's purely artificial sleep, more like a temporary shutdown than anything else. Just thought you'd be bored by this point and--"

"Of course not. I've been forced to sit around in silence enough times for it to jade me." Tali muttered something, then continued her walk, him floating beside her. "Ah, but that's fine. I'm an understanding fellow, after all. So why is it that we're going to see Sven?"

The leopardess nearly stumbled as she began to answer. A wayward tree misaligned her cordial posture and, for those quick seconds before she righted herself, the forest below was a city. The trees all flashed into buildings with little people inside them, and her mind mimicked the screaming of the doomed hundreds--but the thought disappeared just as fast as it came.

She gave no hint that the idea had ever crossed her. Tom wouldn't understand her fear, however irrational its symptoms might be, and she wouldn't will him to worry.

"He wasn't able to attend my last performance." She swallowed. She was fine. "He wishes to spend some time with me in return, and he'd prefer not to take the time to trek..." Then she realized the irony in her statement. "That and I could use a little break. Warren has been no less pushy about schedules."

"Shouldn't take much to solve that problem. You take...say, three hours off your practice time and use that to clean the house a little, and I'll fill your shoes during the next show, so to speak. What could go wrong? Upstaging you would be some of the most fun. It's a total win-win."

Somehow, his words managed to cheer her up a little.

"That is the most blatant example of a win-lose I have ever seen and quite possibly the most inane idea I've ever heard. You've presently stepped boundaries on two of my senses."

"A win-win in its most ideal form. It's two wins for me."

Tali exhaled through her nostrils in place of laughing as she shook her head. "Feh. No." In spite of herself, she found her hand vainly attempting to wipe away a smirk.

The leopardess had to admit: she was quite curious as to the true bounds of her book's knowledge. Maybe she could trick him into giving something away. The spotted mage put on an unassuming look, letting her fingers trickle along the treetops of the forests below with soft rustling sounds.

"Anyway, Tom...we should arrive shortly. Any trivia you'd like to toss my way?" Her complexion was utterly innocent.

"Oh, perhaps. No better way to pass the time, I might agree." The book tilted itself upward, like trying to put a nonexistent hand to a nonexistent chin. "Have you ever pondered the etymology of Magfolk?"

Tali paused for but a moment, then continued her walk. Surprised at her immediate success and thinking of a clever way to press it. "Well, I always thought that the "Mag" in "Magfolk" stood for something...like, you know, magnitude. They're so much bigger."

"Actually," Tom began to reply; Tali mentally drew a raised eyebrow somewhere on him. "Back in the old days, the big ones were thought to be the only ones with magic. That...wasn't true, at least not entirely. Magic is a talent; the Mags just figured it out first. Then they taught it to the Keens, who began to refer to the giant folk as 'Magefolk.' Eventually the term just wore itself down with pronunciations by different people, and now Magfolk is what you got."

"Ah, so that's how people began living peacefully? That's sweet," Tali said. Apparently the book hadn't noticed that her plan was working quite efficiently.

Tom laughed. "Nope! Not for decades. Some Keens would have it in mind that they were being oppressed somehow by the Mags, and conflict just balled up on its own. It never got totally resolved in all areas, but...I dunno."

"What is it? Yeah you do, come on! Don't leave me in the dark now! Please?" Her curiosity drove her; with such small pieces left out, it was like getting to the middle of a novel only for someone to come by and rip it to pieces. Perhaps that metaphor struck the notes too close to reality though, she thought as she gazed at the book. Though it was the 'novel' in this case that did the ripping.

Tom hesitated. He was either realizing the feline's ploy, or was already willing to sate her for a little while and had played by it long enough.

Or perhaps he wasn't entirely telling the truth.

"You're giving me too much credit, aren't you?"

"It's not the same when you've made it clear you know what you're talking about this time. That said, it's probably your only area of expertise, if you've even got one of those. I'll take your word on this much."

"Well..." Tom paused, realizing that Tali knew that she was right, and unable to tear his eyes from her best 'cute' face with eyes dilated and hopeful, before letting out the equivalent of a sigh. Ooh, if only he hadn't insisted he knew more than she thought. She'd never let him live it down.

"Alas. Alas, I say." He shook himself. "There was this one guy who stood out. He was a powerful mage. The battle-sort. So powerful, in fact, that he was only a couple people with his kind of talent short of holding the whole world in the palm of his hand--don't ask me why he didn't, I would have--but instead of that, he ended up being one of the biggest contributors to peaceful life between Mags and Keens. Respectable in its own way I suppose. He was Delavere DeC--uh, Delavere."

"Delavere, huh?" Interesting knowledge. She'd have to do some research on the man. That is, if she didn't have her way with the tome right now. "Come on, Tom. There's a saying that goes 'the halls of the mind hold monuments to the wise', I'm certain you're aware." Her voice became singsong. "Tell me what you're hiding!"

"There's another saying. It's called curiosity killed the cat." And gave her a big head, he thought, this time inaudibly. But it's for another time.

Tali let a sigh spill from her mouth, culminating in a small vaporous cloud due to a mix of her height and the autumnal temperature. "Please?"

"I'm afraid not. I've said enough. Though perhaps this will sate you: I know you've probably wondered why magi wear robes, yes? Maybe you've heard rumors that they help focus magic or interfere with the arcane less."

"Yes?"

"Well no. They just looked cool and magi affiliated themselves with them."

Tali looked herself over and pulled at the wrist of her sleeves, giving it an "Is that it?" look, frowning a little.

Suddenly, the book found a scapegoat. "That and we've just about arrived. We've certainly passed the time with our trivia, haven't we?"

Tali turned her head forward to see the vague shapes of buildings had grown clear, at least the tops of them. A large fence of stone stood before her, facing stalwart in an attempt at imposing, but failing as it reached only to her waist. For Keens though, the perspective wasn't quite the same. It stretched for miles east and west, a barricade if nothing else.

"Ah." Tali fixed her collar and sighed; that was that conversation, then. "So it would seem." With fitting feline grace, she used a single hand to hop herself over the fence, having now entered the Outer Rings.

**** It was a little chilly at this height, Tali noted. Though...that was to a degree how she preferred the weather. Calm. A little melancholy, too. The little girl in her spoke from her heart, the little girl that spent her early life studying and practicing and watching the Keens; she knew how much she actually enjoyed those ethereal feelings of silence and...not quite loneliness, merely the absence of friends. The company of few was homely; more was a crowd.

Maybe deeper down, she even ostracized the few friends she had just a little. She appreciated them, but every now and then she simply wanted to enter another world where she didn't have to acknowledge them. Perhaps that was what the sages and monks and such did when they meditated.

She'd have to learn more about the formalities of meditation in that case.

"It's a little...fascinating," the leopardess muttered. She leaned over the stony wall just a little, overlooking the grassy lands below. Maybe it was ironic, maybe it was just plain silly to have developed the strangest case of acrophobia. The mouse at her side gave her an anticipatory look, unaware of Tali's thoughts that were brought on by the provoking chill of the breeze.

"Hm?"

"This spot right where we stand, this is where the Magfolk used to keep sentries for potential trouble. They'd cast 'tripwire', a detection spell. The spell was like...well, less like an actual tripwire, more like a big field of energy that alerted the Mags to anything that crossed it. Nothing could get by them." She breathed a cloud of vapor from her careful lips, then inconspicuously tightened a lace of her purple hood, presently drawn up. "But now spells like that don't exist. Nobody remembers them."

Sven took a halfhearted bite from the apple in his palm. "A bit of a shame some spells can only be passed down through experience." He spat out a seed and watched it plummet to the earth, dissipating into faint light the second it struck. "Some are just such complicated concepts that the brain can't handle it through word of mouth. Doesn't make any sense to it. That's where some spell tomes and the more advanced runebinders come in, to directly transfer that kind of knowledge without having to process it through the ears. Or the eyes." He paused, gazing into the ethereal fruit as he thought. Being a Mag meant sustaining himself on magic while he remained such a size, being inherently part-magic to begin with. The shape of familiar foods was purely an aesthetic preference. "Also I'm fairly certain spells like that would be banned in today's day and age, at least for your average citizen. Maybe I'm just cynical."

"Very true." Merely talking to him brought some gentle elation to the leopardess. Sven was indeed a person she took for granted as a friend, and even though they both agreed they weren't looking, sometimes she had to wonder how it would go about. They got along without a hitch, after all...

But no, she thought with a mental shake of her head. Friendship truly was where she drew the line, at least for the time, and she'd know if she ever felt differently.

The whizz of an aerial object alerted Tali briefly, her ears perking with slight adoration. A model-sized plane filled with tiny passengers, most of them likely taking part in a vacation of some sort, propelled itself with little engines and turbulence--a friendly reminder that magic was not the only resource in the world, Tali mused--just a foot or so in her measurement from her cheek. Apparently the pilot decided to take a detour through the Outer Rings. Faces inside the vessel peered at her, and in polite acknowledgement she gave a shy, friendly wave with arm held aloft in a ninety-degree angle by her elbow. The wave was in subtle hope that it might draw further distance from her--it probably seemed like they were farther away to the Keens inside though, she reasoned--and partly in her fancy for the little vehicle.

"It's been some time since anybody's seen you in the Rings, you know," Sven started up again. The voice somewhat startled her from her distraction.

"I have my reasons," Tali retorted, not willing to discuss them.

"I believe you," Sven said, having the slightest of emotion to his tone for once, that of caution. "You're name's really gotten around, though. Some people here in the Rings wondered where you went off to. Few leave for months on end like you have."

As if on cue, Tali inconspicuously turned her gaze somewhere behind her to see the occasional fox or marmot standing before their homes, which happened to look more like castle towers than much else. Indeed, a couple looks were pinned right on her.

"And?" Tali found herself sounding more impatient than curious, the latter of which truly described her.

"And," Sven continued, "It's just a little odd to them. I suppose I can understand why your decision to live among them makes sense, however." He paused, clearly changing the subject just enough for his preference. Something he did frequently. "I feel that the Rings are somewhat...obsolete nowadays," Sven said. "But perhaps that's just me. We Mags are the protectors of Keenfolk, and have been since the days of old. That's why we have this fence, after all. You know, back when eldritch wars were actually a thing, and magi fought other magi, yadda yadda...these places exist only because we were basically sentries. Guardians. Almost every Keen settlement has or had them."

"And I still prefer to protect them," Tali said smartly. "Simply...among them."

There was little more to say. "I see."

A few minutes of quiet passed, filled instead with the soft whistling of the wind.

"I don't suppose you'd...want to move this conversation to the Loom, would you?" Tali asked, hints of naiveté and hope escaping her.

"Er...why? It's a time away," Sven said.

"It's merely a fifteen minute walk." Tali asserted no further; the reasons for her preference were otherwise obvious and known by the mouse.

"Fine," he admitted. The Loom, the Magus Library, was directly suited to their talents, after all. It served no better place for conversation and study. The two made over the fence and across the forestations beyond.

It was a calming walk, likely better now that Sven was there, Tali had to think. Though he did take the time to correct where she walked and point out the path--that grew tiring quickly, as much as she might have appreciated it at first. Still, it was not long before they reached the outskirts of the Keenfolk town in which she lived.

As they shrank down and returned to suiting sizes, a thumping at her thigh alerted Tali to the book.

"What was that?" Sven asked, round ears flicking at the light sound.

"Just...my spellbook," Tali muttered. She removed his binds once again, though this time he didn't bother to float before her of his own accord, instead opting to hang at her side, still attached by a bronze chain that would give way to his movement.

"That was incredibly boring, let me just say." The book's letters glowed, but it went unnoticed. "You sitting there talking. And I mean just. Talking. For an hour. I think we've had this discussion before, but this kind of treatment should be illegal if not frowned upon."

Sven turned his gaze directly to the leopardess. "And this is what your...creation is like. Never spoken to him." He tossed one quick glance at the tome, then back. "Quite an attitude he has with you."

"Yeah," Tom said, "We pretty much hate each other. You know how it goes."

"Actually I do not," Sven said matter-of-factly.

"Ignore him," Tali said, offering her cordiality. "Shall we go?"

"Mhmm." Sven knew of the book that spoke from the exam at Ethro, during which he was created, so he was not terribly surprised to meet him.

But that would soon change.

As they walked, Tom noticed something about him. Something...odd. Soon he knew--it was his magic. Something awful and uncontrollable. Oh goodness, of all the times, why now?

The very thing he was concerned about. It was only a matter of time before the cordest was released, caused by Tali's varying levels of neglect, but he thought he could cure it before anything rash could happen; and yet there was nowhere to aim it, nowhere to release it without--

Tom opened wide and a bolt released from the center of his spine, a blazing blue light that engulfed Sven--its target--from whisker to tail in azure radiance. No sound escaped the mouse, not a scream, not a squeak. Tali, however, jumped back in sheer shock and gave a wildly accusing glance at the book, scared and mad all the same.

"What are you doing!" she yelled.

Suddenly, the light dimmed down. But Sven was nowhere to be found, nor was there a single trace of him.

"What did you do to him?!" A vaporization spell?! How did he know one of those? Was that even what it was? Hell, were those even a thing? Tali looked around desperately for some answer, but not a single bystander was about. Her predicament was her own.

"Nothing of my will!" Tom assured. "I-it just slipped out." Suddenly, an idea struck him. "Look on the ground."

Tali did so without hesitation. There--was it really? The smallest of grey forms shrouded by miniature robes--it was!

"S-Sven?" Tali stuttered, reaching to pick him up for but a brief second before lurching her hand back delicately. "What happened?" It took some time for Tali to get used to the idea of picking him up, which was much preferable to the possibility of him being stepped on. Sven cringed at the incoming clawed hand, but did nothing to resist. As she unfurled her palm, he shuddered, regained a straight posture, and brushed back his silvery hair.

The feeling of him in her grasp was somewhat uncomfortable. Sven was squishy, furry, and the slightest writhing. She could hurt him so easily, her friend, and that was almost enough to liquefy any feeling of solidity in her shaking knees.

"Ask your book!" he snarled. "Oh lord, of all the things...this is simply embarrassing."

Tali ripped Tom from her side and held him before her with her free hand. "What the hell has gotten into you?! You just met him and the first thing you do is shrink him?" Her breath was heavy like lead, and her heart was sporadic in its rhythm. "And how did you do that? The shrinking spell doesn't...'stack', it has a set size!"

"I don't know, I'm sorry!" Tom exclaimed, hiding pained guffaws. No matter the circumstance, this was absolutely hilarious to him. "I-I couldn't control it, it just came up and out, like, like--"

"--Are you about to just freaking say 'like magic vomit' because I swear, Tom, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!" Tali let her breathing resume normality. She had to be calm. "This isn't fair. We have to return him to normal."

"That might not be so easy," Sven said, instantly garnering her care. His voice was a shaky, squeaky monotone, him having been somewhat used to the ill effects of magic, though it was still a jarring and unexpected experience. "This might not be the same spell we use to assume Keenfolk form, you realize. Its properties seem slightly different."

A flustered Tali continued swinging her head about as if doing so might attract the favor of some deity to solve her problem, but no such thing occurred. She was arguably more concerned over the situation than Sven.

"Well...I guess we can't reverse it right away in that case..." Tali trailed off, then cursed to herself. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to Sven as well, sure, but that wasn't what she had in mind. "Here, just...just stick with us, alright? We'll fix you." Not that he had any real option. "And don't you get any funny ideas!" She gently pinched the little mouse by his shoulders and planted him inside the breast pocket of her robes, setting him feet-first. "I-I'm sorry, but there I can at least keep an eye on you."

The redness in the mouse's face rendered him utterly silent.

Tali brought a palm to her face. Just when things seemed like they might go right.

"Don't worry Sven, it gets better," Tom chimed. "Hanging out with Tali is basically a free run at second base--"

"Shut it!" Tali hissed, face growing warmer than the grey mouse's. Her turquoise eyes pierced into her adversary's leather cover. "You're not funny! And..." she paused. "If that really wasn't on purpose, then something's wrong with you, Tom. I'm afraid to say it, but whatever it is that's going on with you, it's going to have to wait for now."

Tali stomped a frustrated yellow paw onto the concrete. This was awful, just awful, absolutely awful. Now her fears of dealing with a smaller being were realized--that was why it wasn't fair, Sven's own perspective be damned. Whether it was a simple prank or some other result of Tom's antics that wasn't his fault, it was far too personal. That didn't mean she cared little for Sven--just the opposite, but this was certainly the last thing she needed.

"Tom."

"Yes?"

"I hate you."