It is pretty and trim and green-and-cream and really ought not to be able to hold itself up like that, and yet here it is, somehow defying the laws of architecture. It is surrounded by a neatly bordered garden of ornamental and useful plants of all sorts: here vegetables, there herbs, there spell components, there rows of flowers.
There is a sign out front. It says only: Magic. Not, Beware, Magic or Magic Emporium or anything like that. Just: Magic.
Sitting on top of this sign is a cream cat with smoke-dark points of color on each paw, his ears, and his face and tail.
All in all, you could be forgiven for thinking that a witch lives here.
Bella is inestimably pleased by this compliment. "Cricket said you thought I was a witch."
Bella laughs. "Most people can go on thinking I'm a witch for a long time. Sorceress stuff isn't widely recognized, I have to adapt anything from fire-witches or elves or unicorns till it's unrecognizable, nobody expects a girl to use wizard magic in any form, and everybody uses a dragon spell or two. A witch could do most everything that's left over, and I do dress like one."
Bella giggles. "Of course I am. But there's a technical term for a student of all kinds of magic. I'm a magician."
"I'm usually perfectly happy to encounter strangers, but on the other hand I don't know why you weren't."
"Well, then," says Bella, "I suppose what I'd rather comes down to how well your status as interesting conversationalists holds up."
"What do the both of you do with your time apart from quest without much interest for one or more husbands?"