There are a number of misunderstandings about how magic works. That is not a coincidence; keeping the uninitiated in the dark keeps the balance in check, so long as it is done carefully. A lot of what we do is not magic anyway, it is knowledge and understanding and attention to detail. A lot of what we do could be done by anyone, but then they might do it wrong and kill somebody. You will learn those things. I will teach you. But first you need understanding and attention to detail.

Magic is simpler, in some ways. When you came to me, when you struck the bargain, the potion I made for you must have seemed simple. A river rock, a clover leaf, a sparrow’s feather. Some of the villagers believe the power of my spells comes from in me; but, no, all I gave were my eyes and my hands and my time. Some believe that with a river rock, a clover leaf and a sparrow’s feather anybody could do the same. The truth is somewhere between the two: the river rock held strong magic, but you could gather a thousand such rocks and find nothing but the mundane; a clover with a leaf so powerful is far more rare than one with four leaves; a host of sparrows passing overhead might have not a single feather with a shred of magic in it. Any of these I could spot at thirty paces, through the water or the trees or the air. The power of the magic in me is the power to see, and I see it in you.