"Hi," echoes Isabella.

"I was curious about how your magic works," she says, addressing Isabella.

"What kind of 'how it works' are you looking for here?"

"What it can and can't do, mostly. It can resurrect the dead, but I don't know what else it can do. I am curious. It sounds useful."

"It is, but I can't teach you, you don't belong to my species. My brand of spells - it does wards, it does healing, it does curses, it does blessings, it can control the climate or summon visions or call an object to hand from far away."

Lynn looks faintly amused. "I wasn't expecting to be able to learn it. It never works out that way, I have gotten used to magic being almost utterly useless to me, personally."

Adarin looks vaguely depressed with the conversation topic of magic.

Lynn will just be over here. Patiently waiting to be addressed, again. Five hundred years has made her very patient.

"Interesting, so none of it is very fast."

"Verse can be fast. Herbs can be very fast if I have them mixed in advance and all I have to do is throw them. But no, it's not as quick as a well-prepped mage spell."

"That's interesting to know - but it sounds like it's less mentally intensive - unless you have to understand every component of what you do?"

"No. I can actually, if I'm not careful, cast spells by accident. I had to be excused from reading poetry aloud in school."

"That must be annoying. Though useful, if people don't understand your magic. You could cast a spell and they might not even notice."

"At home everyone understands it at least well enough to suspect I might be casting if I am, although I suppose I could pass for a non-witch to a sufficiently magic-insensitive observer if I dressed like a mortal."

"Your witches don't dress like - mortals? Are you immortal?"

"Well, unaging. We can die of violence or, occasionally, boredom or loneliness. And the distinction is losing meaning since I invented a spell to make mortals work the same way."

"Thank you."

"And to be clear - no genocide? None at all?"

"No," sighs Adarin. "How on Earth would genocide even grant immortality? That's absurd."

"Well, at any rate, I've never committed murder, let alone genocide."

"Good. It's not a thing that most people consider fun."

"There was one occasion when it might have been satisfying but Adarin objected."

"It would have proved all of her paranoid fears right if you had," he points out. "I think we won more by not."

"I couldn't tell you." He scoots and hugs his wife. "If it would have been a deterrent... I'm sorry."

"There's no way to know." Hug.

"There isn't. But I'd - I probably should have thought that they'd try the same thing again."

"Sweetie, don't blame yourself, it wasn't even the same person. Anyway. Did you have more questions about witches?" Isabella asks Lynn.

"Yes." Pause. "But I think they can wait."

"Suit yourself."

"Would you like me to hang around and be your ghost interpreter who moonlights as a historian? Or depart?"

"Oh - I almost forgot with - does the ghost have anything to say - I have no idea how to refer to there being a ghost and a living instance of the same person."

"Dispersing - is - what it sounds like?"

Adarin winces. "Yes."

"If... it's that unbearable, then I can ask the alethiometer what it would do to later spell attempts - but it doesn't seem like a good idea. I'm sorry. I'm not used to ghosts," apologizes Isabella to the empty spot in the air that Lynn seems to be looking at.

"It'll just be a few more days and then - if I'm interpreting the alethiometer right - with a - given the right conditions," wince, "I should be able to just glom the two of you back together again."

"I didn't bring any. I can get Path to drop things into the portal box, though?"

"Sure, that'll work fine. He's also suggested that I relate more history to him, and says that he thinks you and - the human part of your husband would like to hear that, too."

"I was dead," says Adarin, raising his hand, "at the time."

"And I was kind of distracted."

"Yes."

Adarin nods, too.

"I have only taken history lessons on Earth before. Is making me guess a convention of Kystle?"

"I thought it would be obvious, considering who you're married to," sighs Lynn. "His mother? The crazy one who blew up a city?"

"I remember, I'm just not feeling the audience participation gimmick today."

"As you like. Well, I found her, and because she was crazy and I was a little - unhealthy, at the time, we came up with the greatest plan of all time. I wanted to kill the creatures that had ruined my life, she wanted to gain power to affect the world again and - I didn't realize this until later - resurrect the dead. It turns out that demons can have their magic stolen if you know how. It involves killing them and transferring the power to something magical that doesn't have all of the annoying human fleshy bits that get in the way." Pause. "A ghost does not have any of the annoying human fleshy bits. I'm pretty sure you can see where I'm going with this."

"Yep."

"Yes. So, lots of killing things. For a while. I got to be very, very good at it. Eventually I start to get older - which is not something that Aliya wanted, because she needed me. To kill things for her. I think she could have managed to kill things herself at that point, but it would have depleted her stores and she was saving them. So - I couldn't tell you how she did it, possibly by throwing lots and lots of magic at the problem, but she made me immortal. Exciting."

"Oh, they're all sentient."

Adarin makes a face.

"Are they also universally unfriendly, just how upset should I be about the genocide thing?"

"Well, you met an invasion force, but, good to know."

"Indeed. And do keep in mind that they killed billions," she informs. "Regardless - Aliya eventually started giving me magic things to kill things faster. It was an investment, of sorts."

"Charming."

"It was useful, certainly. But even with those, even when I became extremely good at killing things - it was not fast enough for her. She wanted to resurrect Nereus as soon as possible."

"Because of his stellar personal qualities, no doubt."

"Mostly because she was creepily obsessed, really. I have been married twice, and I have never in my life obsessed over someone the way she obsessed over him."

"Mm-hm."

"But I digress. She wanted to speed up the power-gain, and by this point in time it's not like there was a lot of people left in Kystle. However, there was another nearby plane with lots of people that could potentially 'help.' She just needed to convince them that it was worth it. This she could manage where the demons and I had failed - the elderly Adarin has an explanation handy but I only understand about a fourth of it. So my explanation is, 'Because magic.' If you want the technicalities, go talk to him."

"That... Whatever it is could be useful, I'll ask. Later, though."

Isabella nods.

"Her decided incentive to get people to kill some demons for her was to start a second invasion by making several temporary portals. For them to attack New Kystle through."

"Yes. A lot of people died."

Silent horror.

Silent horror all around.

"Yes. If it's any consolation, as far as I can tell she always closed the portals before it came close to any sort of victory for the demons. She didn't want - genocide on humans, she wanted to incite them into helping me."

"It's really not."

"I figured. So - it worked. I started recruiting, and I got help. If you're curious about how that worked, I got a necklace that translated every language available and let me travel through planes. Only with her help, I'd learn later, I couldn't work it when she didn't let me and when she dispersed it stopped working entirely. Just like - just about everything else she gave me. I have a few things that work just fine now, but they're few and far between. Aliya was a subtle control freak. I think she wanted to prevent me from ever using the artifacts against her."

"It's entirely all right. The things she made me in the beginning haven't died with her, I don't think she was that paranoid yet. It was just items, anyway, I am still quite capable without them."

Adarin does not comment. But he looks like he is trying very hard not to make a face.

Isabella squeezes Adarin's hand.

He manages a little smile, back at his wife. It'll be fixed.

"Yet here you are."

"I am extremely hard to kill." Pause. "... I also had an extremely close call and only made it through with - help. Others were not so lucky. Cutting to the chase, we were losing. Badly. And that is when pretty boy and Zeviana come in."

"'Pretty boy'? My alt?"

Lynn looks faintly amused. "One and the same. I believe Nereus found them, they figured out what was going on from him, and that was when they decided to be our metaphorical cavalry."

"My Adarin is much prettier," mutters Isabella, under her breath.

Adarin snorts. "Thank you, love."

Isabella puts her head on his shoulder. "So terrible-Adarin evacuated you," she says to Lynn.

"Not quite. They did a bit of that, but - we are very stubborn. Many of us did not want to evacuate. His sister helped us with defense. He retrieved his mother and convinced her to get off of her ass and help us. Which she did."

"Oh, she committed large-scale genocide and killed every demon on Kystle. It took about a day, it was absolutely terrifying."

Adarin is just going to be over there, filled with silent horror.

"Then she terraformed the planet. It was something of a mess, after five hundred years of - killing and wars and things."

"It turns out that it takes a ridiculous amount of power to resurrect someone. So she could work extremely large-scale. Terraforming killed her, though. That was her last act, before she dispersed."

"So the resurrection didn't use up the power, but terraforming killed her?"

"That is something of a debate, actually. I argue that it killed her because I knew her for five hundred years and she was extremely tenacious about sticking around the entire time. Pretty boy thinks she killed herself immediately after."

"Well, I suppose I could collect her and ask her, but somehow I am not motivated to do so anytime soon."

"Good. Don't. We are all rather glad she is properly dead."

"Though I suppose now we know how to do a cheap, cheating version of that thing Iobel and Edarial have for spellbinder prisoners," Isabella remarks to Adarin. "If it comes up again."

"I suppose so," he agrees. "Though - I don't have any memories from - ghost me. So I don't think that would work for interrogating my alt's Aliya."

"No, it would not have that particular application."

"It's really only a scholarly debate, anyway. I don't think either I nor Adarin care enough to risk bringing her back to find out. Avoid it, please. Possibly forever."

"Mm-hm."

"And that reasonably concludes my history lesson. That last part happened - three days ago? Four, maybe?"

"Sweetie," says Isabella, "we have really bad timing. Let's work on that before future expeditions."

"We have the absolute worst timing," he agrees, staring. "I don't even know how we could work on that, how do we even scry for something like that?"

"Next time," says Isabella, clapping her hands, "we send them a letter. We apologize for the unorthodox communiqué, fellow Bell-and-or-Adarin as the case may be, but we suspect you are an alternate version of me, and would like to come visit, please place a reply on the reverse of this correspondence for scrying twenty-four hours from this sending telling us about when and how you would like to receive this visit and what evidence you would like us to bring that we are not suitable for careless shield bubbling or other hostilities."

"Sleep well?" Isabella asks. "Tell us, if you had received a polite letter asking when would be a good time for your alt and his wife to visit, kindly write this information on the reverse of this letter for scrying, what would've happened?"

"I would have been alarmed and checked the letter for traps. Then I'd write the information on the reverse side of the letter with several exclamation marks and some copious capitalization and wait for a reply."

"And then if we'd shown up on schedule, hostile shield-bubble?"

"Probably, but I also would have been less sleep-deprived. So, more inclined to let you out with little trouble."

"I don't suppose there's any way to write the letter that would've skipped the hostile shield-bubble altogether?"

"To put it simply? No."

"Okay, but we could keep the unpleasantness to a minimum. Probably would have helped with Edarial and Iobel too, to be honest, although Spring was perfectly friendly from the get-go."

"We... Also started off by resurrecting her," points out her husband.

"If you'd started out by bringing me back from the dead, there would have been no shield bubble at all."

"Well, obviously, because if we'd started with resurrecting you from the dead you'd have been a seriously woozy non-mage, as we now know because my Adarin is serving as test subject," says Isabella testily.

"Which I am extremely sorry for and will genuinely work diligently to fixing. I was going to go take some questionable drugs to sleep more, but I thought it would be kinder to offer you a room in my home first. Considering."

"That would be more comfortable than hammocking in the sky again. I can put you to sleep in a not particularly questionable manner if you're willing, that's pure verse."

"Varies. I can tweak the spell."

"Well, I'd recommend eating and getting some water after about a day, but apart from that there shouldn't be any disaster."

"Mm. A day, I wake up to eat, drink, and use the privy, and then you put me under for another day?"

"Sure."

He retrieves two keys, and holds them out to his two new guests. "Feel free to raid my food. If you'd like, I can also hand you money to buy what you'd like."

"In what respect is this a key?" asks Isabella.

"In that if it's on your person, you can enter my house." He glances at Lynn. "It'll also only work for the two of you, by the way. Because 'magic,'" he adds, dryly. "As you would put it."

"Okay." Isabella tucks it into a fold of silk.

Adarin pockets his, as well.

"Thank you for your services, Lynn. Er, ghost-Adarin, what would you -" Pause. "He would like to have a mage play cards with him or something, to alleviate boredom. He says if it's not Lynn the only people that come to mind are Zeviana and - someone named Xiara?"

"A Xiara came to Chamomile a while ago. With some ghosts. I don't know if she'd still be alive, here, and there isn't yet a complete portal chain to let her visit."

"Mm. I don't know anyone of that name and I know just about every mage here. Ghosts don't interact well with mirrors. Well, it was an idea. I'll see if I can find someone, regardless."

"Thank you."

"Thank you," her husband agrees.

Isabella nods and gets up.

As does Adarin. He looks at Lynn. "Thanks for the - history lesson."

"You're welcome," she replies. "I will remain out here for a little while, playing cards with - the other you." She glances at his alt. "The other, other you."

"And thank you for that, too."

"And - let me know if he wants to talk to me. Please."

"Of course. You'll know if I crash through a wall after trying and failing at the door."

Lynn snorts. "That was a joke. I've heard of knocking."

Isabella snorts.

Hello, Terrible Adarin's House.

"A few." He rattles off the names of a few places to eat, gives some recommendations for what to have while there, and then gives some basic directions for how to get to each.

Naturally, his alt recognizes exactly zero of them. "Thank you," he says, because he's pretty sure he is completely useless as a guide here.

Isabella jots down notes. "Right then. Lunch, love?"

"Sure, is there something you'd like to try while we're here?"

"The fish sounds good."

"Then we'll go with that," says Adarin, looking just a teensy bit like he's completely in love.

There is a pause as both Adarins consider each other. And then completely out of the blue, the younger one says, "Forty-three point eight."

"Yes. I love my wife very much."

"And you're not spelled or drugged or anything?"

"Nope."

"Did you assign a medium-sized number to how much you're in love with me?"

Her husband snickers. "Uh - not quite, but sort of?"

"Well, what is it then?"

"In summary? How well you work with him, how he feels about your actions and opinions in general, how effectively you are helpful to the world, and, of course, how he feels about you." Pause. "Forty-three point eight is an extremely high number in the scale we're using. If you hadn't guessed."

"Awww." She nuzzles her Adarin.

He snuggles her right back. "I'll break down the why for you later if you like."

"I'm curious."

"That's a yes, then."

"Mmm-hm. I am afraid I don't assign numbers to these things or I'd return the favor."

"It's quite all right. I am aware that I'm a bit weird."

"Just a little. I love you."

"I love you, too." Snuggle, snuggle.

"Lunch!"

"Not to worry," drawls the third wheel, "I will not be joining you, I have some work to do before I am put to sleep."

"We'll be back in a bit," Isabella says. "Don't do anything mana-intensive, please."

And off go the extraplanar visitors to eat fish.

"All of it," confirms Isabella.

"How do you come by these values?" asks Isabella, who has written them all down. "Why is having magic three point one instead of, say, three, or six, or something?"

"Comparison of - how important things are in my head in relation to other things. If you're curious, the measuring point here is the token point for being alive and sentient. Because I had to pick something to measure this all by."

"So having magic is three and a bit times more important than being sapient? Is my portal bag, being magic, three and a bit times more important than some random nonmagical person?"

"It sounds really bad when you say it like that," laughs Adarin "The portal bag itself, no, it's like a - point two or something, it's useful but not irreplaceable. I mean that you have magic that can be used for useful things and that is a valuable resource that can be used for other purposes. For example, helping sapient people."

"I use my portal bag for that, too," she points out.

"Yes, but it can be replaced. It's just one singular thing that is useful, it is not a thing that makes other useful things. It's useful, but it's not the one that's resurrecting the dead, it's just helping a bit with that."

"Your number system is cute and so are you. I love you."

"Thanks! I love you, too. I didn't make it to be cute, but I'm not complaining that it is!"

"The exact mechanism isn't so much cute, the fact that it has such exact mechanisms is cute."

He snickers. "I like being precise and exact! It's a bit less - nailed down to numbers in my head, you were easy to do because I think about you a lot. So I don't have to look through the metaphorical filing cabinet. Other people I'd have to poke my head a bit to come up with exact numbers. I could easily ballpark it, but not to - decimal points."

Isabella picks up his hand and kisses it, eyes sparkling.

Adarin smiles back, looking embarrassed. "The comparisons themselves don't bother you?"

"Why would it, am I missing something?"

"No, but I mean - Ana would be upset if I told her that there was something in my head that made me care about how good you are at fixing things in comparison to being hopelessly in love with you."

"Why?"

"The fact that it has a higher number in the math problem. I don't think she cares that I find it important, I think she would care that I find it - more important than just being in love with you."

"Well, I mean, you're in love with me for reasons, you were not shot at by a cherub with questionable morals."

He laughs. "Yeah. I would be so confused if that happened, my math problem would be confused at reasonless love."

"What would happen if you were shot at by such a cherub, do you have an algorithm with enough plasticity to handle that?"

"I... Have no idea. I hope I'd be able to handle it? It's - not the sort of situation I've been in, before."

"How long a while? I think the letter-sending thing will help..."

"I have no idea. But just - I'm remembering how scary other planes can be."

Isabella nods.

"I love you," he assures, quietly. "And we have - projects to work on in the meanwhile. So it's not like we won't be doing anything."

"Yes, but I'm sort of worried there are more Bells in states somewhat more urgent than 'already dead' who could benefit from help..."

Wince. "True, we can - check?"

"Realistically, sweetie, if you find more I'm going to want to pay them visits regardless of whether they're in dire straits at that moment or not."

He laughs, a little. "Fair enough. More methods to - figure out what we're jumping into before we go, though?"

"Yes. Lots of prep. Second portal bag. Maybe anchor the next search on female Zevianas on the assumption they'll have Adarins, and see if that entices her to join us on the trip so there's emergency mana to be had."

Nod. "Agreed. I - know you don't like him, but my older alt could do the same. As an extra battery."

"He can work off his debt to society," mutters Isabella. "Well, no, that's not fair, I imagine society owes him, but his debt to us."

"Yeah. Just a bit."

Snuggle.

"Oh, that will be nice."

"Very. Part of me is tempted to get nerdy about the shield he used. Morbid as that is."

"A little."

"Yeah," sighs her husband. "Should - that be now, or do we wait?"

"Well - certainly it shouldn't occur now, the conversation - I don't know."

"I meant the conversation," he winces, paling a little. "Not - that."

Adarin nods. "Yeah. We should - probably also start going by the nicknames, actually. We picked them out and haven't used them once."

"Well, you and I have them, but Iobel and Edarial don't and neither does your terrible alt."

"Yeah, and my terrible alt's the one who really needs it - we should ask when we're done with lunch."

Isabella nods. "Any guesses what he'll pick?"

"Yeah," snorts Isabella.

"The only non-rude thing that comes to mind is Silver, because his hair's not white, but if we ever meet an older me again I don't think that'll work."

"Yeah. Although since it's just plain a hair color in Edarial's case it's an open question if white hair darkens to gray there, or if it will do in other worlds. But I suppose if there's two Kystles there could be a dozen."

"... I don't know if I should see that as a good thing or personally terrifying. That there could be a dozen Kystles."

"Well, maybe we could catch some of them early. Head off the invasion."

"That'd be nice," he says wistfully.

"Of course, we might also run into some where you haven't been born yet, and I have no idea how you'd want to respond to that situation."

"... I have no idea, either. The events that lead to my conception are kind of terrible, so - I am torn between wanting an alt of me to actually be born and also preventing that."

"Is there a good way to prevent it? ...Also, what happens if we find a you when you're a kid."

"Uh... I'm not sure if there's a good way, considering - my mother. But the obvious is to keep Nereus away from my mother and hope that keeps her non-murderous. Or - well. Killing her." He winces, then recovers. "If we find me when I'm a kid, that's a bit more straightforward. Snatch him and his sibling out of the hands of terrible guardians, find a Veron to be a dad at them both, squirrel all three of them away to Chamomile or something."

"Does it seem likely that keeping Nereus away from her would help?"

"And something else could theoretically set her off, anyway."

"Yeah," he sighs. "That's depressing."

Squeeze.

Snuggle. "We'll figure something out."

"As it comes up," agrees Isabella. "Versions of me tend to have unobjectionable childhoods - so far, and parentally speaking; Spring would have needed some help if we'd found her in her original world - so that's not nearly as much of a worry."

"I'm glad," he murmurs. "I like - versions of you consistently having unobjectionable childhoods."

"Parentally speaking," repeats Isabella. "You might have been asleep when - Spring was born into slavery. She was still in it when she found the magic that gave her the door that let her into Pantheon."

"But nothing that would be particularly awkward to deal with - delicate, maybe, but not a moral conundrum. All we'd have had to do would be, you know, steal her."

"Yeah," he agrees. "And then work from there."

"Yeah. We should probably establish contact with her original world, at some point. There's been plenty of time for things to change and we already know it's populated."

He nods. "I'll look for it. When - everything's settled."

Snuggle. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"Oh, nice decor."

"Very. I'm glad you chose seafood."

"We can try another one for dinner..." Isabella accepts his recommendation.

"I imagine seafood for every meal for days would get wearing."

"It's a good thing we're not going to be here long, isn't it?"

"Yes. Not that I'm looking forward to the immediate activity when we get home, either, but - then we'll get to settle down."

He winces, and nods. "I - if it is extremely distressing I can - not... Do that."

"Yambe Akka's bones it's distressing, but - temporarily. I don't want you to have to do without your magic if I can fix it."

"Sweetie, I'll deal. I'm not going to pretend to be completely easy about it, but I'll deal, if the alethiometer says I have the spell right it'll only be a few minutes."

"All right," he murmurs. "Because I will - give up - give up magic if it's better for you."

"It's really not," he agrees. "But you're my priority, and you're his, too, so."

"In large part because I am nice and considerate, I think. Much too nice and considerate to make my - currently divided quantity of husband - go without magic because I'm wibbly about a step in the process."

Isabella kisses his hand again. "I love you too, sweetie."

"I'm pretty sure we are still married," she giggles.

"Oh, good, because I liked our wedding. It was nice, but the hassle was annoying. Let's not do that again."

"If you want, we could do a renewing-our-vows, nice and private and low-hassle."

"Hmmmmm," he muses. "Maybe. Did we have a 'Til Death Do Us Part' clause in the vows? Do we need to renew them?"

"Now that's a likely unprecedented use of the concept."

"Veron wasn't at our wedding, either, but getting vows renewed seems a little silly. Hmmm."

"Well, he could come to the renewal."

"Okay," he says whimsically. "You've convinced me, at the renewal we get to specifically mention that death does not part us, screw that, let's be properly immortal."

"Yes. Proper immortality. We can invite our alts. Maybe not the terrible one. I will leave the invitation of the terrible one up to you."

"I may or may not invite him, I'm not sure, yet. Would that be okay for Iobel and Edarial? They were annoyed at us for flaunting, and this is going to be a very flaunty event."

"Well, they don't have to come."

"True. Invitations out of niceness, then."

"Mm-hm. But besides alts and immediate family let's not overdo it, we don't want the hassle again."

"Agreed, the hassle was annoying. Worth it, worth every minute of it, but - annoying."

"Hence, do-over."

"Yes," he laughs. "Do-over."

"But if this one turns out to be annoying too please don't die yet again just to get another shot. It is legal to do vow renewals as often as one likes without intervening mortality."

"It wouldn't go over well."

"No, and I wouldn't blame you in the slightest for that. If I think that is an intelligent thing to do, hit me over the head with something, because it's either an imposter or mind control."

"Please do not be impostored or mind controlled. This would also not go over well."

"I solemnly swear to do my best to prevent both."

"Your terrible alt is not terrible at restaurant recommendations."

"He isn't! If he were I would be annoyed with him, and then probably commandeer his kitchen to make something edible."

At length, they are fed, and walk back to Terrible Adarin's House. Isabella opens the door.

"Hello. Nice seafood place. Let me know when you want to go to sleep."

"Certainly. I've arranged things so your husband's ghost will not be lonely, I'm just eating before sleep."

"Thank you. Who's keeping him company?"

"A few people that owe me favors. They're all very nice, one of them volunteered when she heard the situation."

"Okay, good. You need a nickname, by the way."

"I'm not that upset with you," snorts Cypress.

"Ours - well, mine is sort of lying in wait until another Isabella-proper turns up - are Ice for me and Cypress for him."

"Hm," he says, and then after a short pause, "Prime."

"... 'Prime'?"

"Because I am in the Prime of my life," drawls the newly nicknamed Adarin.

"Ah, ironic nicknames. Is that going to be a trend?"

"I have no idea. It vaguely amuses me, another alt might not feel like being ironic, though. I couldn't say."

"Prime it is."

"Exciting."

"Less confusing, that's the important part."

"That, as well."

"Edarial can just keep 'Edarial' for the time being unless that's a recurring variation, but Iobel should pick something, I suppose, I wonder if she's gotten anywhere on that."

"If all else fails, call her, 'Hey, you.'"

"I think I'd go for 'cat lady' first."

"I won't ask what earned her that one for fear of disappointment."

"She has a cat."

"Alas, disappointment. I'd expected thirty cats, or her being part cat, or living in a giant cat floating in space."

"The cat is her familiar, and having him allows her to cast spells."

"Interesting." Pause. "It's non-transferable, isn't it. No trips to the pet shop for an extra set of magic?"

"No, you need a spirit animal for it. Only people from the plane have one."

"I wish I could say I was surprised, but." He looks up in a skyward direction. "No, universe, you'll not drive me to drinking. Console yourself somehow, this behavior is getting embarrassing."

"We may yet find transferable magic," says Isabella encouragingly. "I mean, I guess Pantheon magic is transferable. Just not horizontally, you have to get gods to like you."

"How long does that take on average?"