This was the closest Eury had gotten to information—potentially useful information—since she had arrived upon this island. The professor—he had not returned with his own name, which was a bit inconvenient—stood now as the gatekeeper. He was amiable enough and seemed eager to help, which were both blessings, but the witch could not risk saying anything stupid enough to cause him to change course. She took his arm tentatively; it was solid, tangible, a potential lifeline in this journey.

"Magic, of course," Eury responded rather uselessly, as though it was the most obvious answer in the world. Then, "of India, that is. I am, too. Of India."

Her tongue was running off with her quite determinedly; Eury's smile, a bit strained, became a wall against its words.