"There was only the one meteorite," he says, shrugging with his hands tucked into his pockets. It makes him look a lot less foreboding. "But she won't stop gloating. Bloody tiresome."
Just here, there's a sign, half in Chinese and half in English, announcing that they've reached the intersection of Lemon Alley and Market (literally, Buy-Sell, or Mai) Way. The intersection itself is mostly deserted; all the good stuff is going on further up the road.
(Further down the road are the beaches--the piping sound of a calliope is audible, and if you look closely you'll see the ferris wheel isn't anchored to anything.)
Market Way is big, and it is broad, and it runs the length of Santo Xia, crammed with wizards and wizard-related goings on; mostly buying and selling.
There's a squat figure with enormous bulging eyes and enormous flapping ears buying fruit; it's naked as a bird and sexless as a doll. It hands the fruit up into a basket carried by what looks like a broom with arms and a book for a head that floats along behind it.
A few meters away, where the tangle of shops and booths gets really ridiculous, there's a booth actually floating over the street, four enormous logs (bristling at one end) lashed in a square underneath to reinforce the flying carpet underfoot. Ropes dangle down into the street, and wizards who wish to go up grab these and rise, although the ropes seem to stay put--just twisting like barberpoles.
There are a thousand alleys and a million intriguing gleams; the smell of spices and alchemy and the NOISE of a few hundred wizards on holiday.
Tom remembers the first time he stepped through the back wall of the Three Broomsticks and into Diagon Alley. He'd been on his own, of course, so he could allow himself the first moment of wonder and true joy he'd ever known without anyone noticing or remarking.
Now he can just enjoy it, and not care who knows it.
"This is- this is brilliant. Diagon Alley is our main marketplace. In England, that is. And Knockturn Alley, of course, though I don't frequent that street nearly as much as I did in my youth."
He can't help looking about for signs of the darker side of magic in this exotic Wizarding place.
Bird nods, happily. "Santo has one of the biggest Wizarding quarters in known space. Only Dyton Colony's is bigger, I think. Everyone loves a holiday, and the linju really hit the jackpot when they made Santo."
"There's those who say terraforming will never beat geotransfiguration, but this place really shows you what they're capable of. And it's self-perpetuating. All done with physics. Bloody clever if you ask me."
"I can ima-" He trails off, distracted by a stall selling some very intriguing and pungent roots and fungi. He wonders what kinds of potions those make.
This, somehow, leads to another train of thought. "Do you have owls any longer? We have two in the House of Arch, charmed for different jumps through space and time as required."
"We do," he says. "A hand-written letter by owl... it's a bit... quaint?" He waves a handy, modifying the word with a gesture. "Your mum would be so pleased to get one, et cetera?"
"But there's other forms of communication. And of course there's star-owling, for interstellar distances. Conjuro Patronum Minora."
"Oh, not real birds." He chuckles. "It's based on the Patronus charm; a sort of legilimancy. You concentrate on a message and create a 'thought-owl' that can cover the distance. Doesn't need air, or food, and it travels at the speed of thought."
"It took a genius to create the spell, and of course you need special equipment to send and recieve, but even a child can cast it--not nearly so difficult as a true Patronus."
"Fascinating. I should think that magical theory would have come along over the years. I'd have been terribly disappointed if such advancements hadn't been made."
He grins. "Magical theory was always one of my main interests, after all."
He makes a note to look up the Asian magical systems once he gets home. Those are realms he's only touched on during his own research.
"That... might be a little dangerous," Bird says doubtfully. "Unless you're willing to have a memory-erasing charm done before you go. We're a bit beyond Time-Turner territory, here."
"I can tell you some general things, however, if you like."
"Oh, I'm not an Opener," Bird says hurriedly. "I wouldn't want anyone to get any kind of idea I was claiming to be House of Arch when I wasn't."
He shoves his hands untidily into his pockets again. "Five hundred years is a long time, in genealogy. The House of Arch has survived, and the Opener succession has gone on, but there's also wizarding branches of the family without any real Opening talent. You can tell which ones because we have last names." He grins at that.
"Of course, sports crop up on both sides--I'm making it sound more clearcut than it is. But the House of Arch as an institution is very--distinct."
Tom squeezes Door's hand. "And you can tell by the eyes, I imagine."
It's rather overwhelming to learn you and your wife are founders of a dynasty. Knowing the House of Arch survives the destruction of Earth is even more awe-inspiring.
Just here, there's a sign, half in Chinese and half in English, announcing that they've reached the intersection of Lemon Alley and Market (literally, Buy-Sell, or Mai) Way. The intersection itself is mostly deserted; all the good stuff is going on further up the road.
(Further down the road are the beaches--the piping sound of a calliope is audible, and if you look closely you'll see the ferris wheel isn't anchored to anything.)
Market Way is big, and it is broad, and it runs the length of Santo Xia, crammed with wizards and wizard-related goings on; mostly buying and selling.
There's a squat figure with enormous bulging eyes and enormous flapping ears buying fruit; it's naked as a bird and sexless as a doll. It hands the fruit up into a basket carried by what looks like a broom with arms and a book for a head that floats along behind it.
A few meters away, where the tangle of shops and booths gets really ridiculous, there's a booth actually floating over the street, four enormous logs (bristling at one end) lashed in a square underneath to reinforce the flying carpet underfoot. Ropes dangle down into the street, and wizards who wish to go up grab these and rise, although the ropes seem to stay put--just twisting like barberpoles.
There are a thousand alleys and a million intriguing gleams; the smell of spices and alchemy and the NOISE of a few hundred wizards on holiday.
Reply
Now he can just enjoy it, and not care who knows it.
"This is- this is brilliant. Diagon Alley is our main marketplace. In England, that is. And Knockturn Alley, of course, though I don't frequent that street nearly as much as I did in my youth."
He can't help looking about for signs of the darker side of magic in this exotic Wizarding place.
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
"There's those who say terraforming will never beat geotransfiguration, but this place really shows you what they're capable of. And it's self-perpetuating. All done with physics. Bloody clever if you ask me."
Reply
This, somehow, leads to another train of thought. "Do you have owls any longer? We have two in the House of Arch, charmed for different jumps through space and time as required."
He'd miss the owls.
Reply
"But there's other forms of communication. And of course there's star-owling, for interstellar distances. Conjuro Patronum Minora."
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
"It took a genius to create the spell, and of course you need special equipment to send and recieve, but even a child can cast it--not nearly so difficult as a true Patronus."
Reply
He grins. "Magical theory was always one of my main interests, after all."
He makes a note to look up the Asian magical systems once he gets home. Those are realms he's only touched on during his own research.
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
"I can tell you some general things, however, if you like."
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He knows Door is teasing, but the desire to find as many books as he can is a strong one. She knows him well.
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(The comment has been removed)
He shoves his hands untidily into his pockets again. "Five hundred years is a long time, in genealogy. The House of Arch has survived, and the Opener succession has gone on, but there's also wizarding branches of the family without any real Opening talent. You can tell which ones because we have last names." He grins at that.
"Of course, sports crop up on both sides--I'm making it sound more clearcut than it is. But the House of Arch as an institution is very--distinct."
Reply
It's rather overwhelming to learn you and your wife are founders of a dynasty. Knowing the House of Arch survives the destruction of Earth is even more awe-inspiring.
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
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