I have been away for a long time, out in the heathen lands with not a charm nor a cantrip in my possession. Scores of miles from the nearest stone circle, in villages where the locals perform a sort of ersatz “natural” magic with gathered herbs or mechanical devices. It is strange what one comes to accept in such circumstances. By the time I returned to civilisation the dull throb in my skull of a broken connection was almost imperceptible, and I found myself certain that I would be able to survive out there, beyond the range of magic, indefinitely if I wished. And then I crossed a ley line onto the Northumberland grid, and it flooded into me, and I was home.