Julie said to be at her place by 10:30 am, but I'm a bit early, so I stop on the way to get donuts and coffee for us.  That presents its own dilemma, as I realize I don't know how she likes her coffee.  I actually feel guilty not knowing, since we're such good friends, as if I'd forgotten her birthday.  God, when is her birthday?  Some secret part of me is whispering things...that I'm only friends with her because she told me we were.  But that's ridiculous...she was just saying things that were already true, and helping me avoid mistakes in the future.  But then why don't I remember her birthday?  Or seeing her at all before the club?

I end up buying four coffees, one for myself and three of different options, hoping she'll like one of them.  I find my way to her apartment building and awkwardly knuckle the intercom button by her name, my hands full of coffee and donuts.

"That you, 'Stanzie?"

"Yep!"  The door buzzes and I manage to pull it open with an elbow and slide inside.  I elbow the elevator call button as well.  It's easy to be cheerful when I hear her voice, and talk to her, but the nagging questions are still floating around my brain as I ride up to the forth floor.  When I finally make it to her door and knock, something of it must be showing on my face, because Julie notices right away.

"Oooh, donuts and coffee?  You're a treasure.  Hey...are you okay?"  I'm already cheering up from hearing her enthusiasm for my breakfast gesture, and it's easier to push those other thoughts away now.

"Oh, sure...just a bit tired, I guess.  Had trouble sleeping."  I don't elaborate...I'm sure it's not important, and it'd only upset her to hear.  She makes a sympathetic face at hearing about my night as she moves out of the way so I can come past her.

"Sorry to hear that," she says, locking the door behind me.  "I'm not surprised though...your mind is going to need to release pressure somehow as it deals with all of this 'impossible' stuff you've stumbled into.  Give it a week or two and I bet things will settle down."  I nod, and set everything down on her coffee table, then explain about my uncertainty, listing the options.  She takes the caramel mocha latte, which was actually mine, but I'm happy to let her have it and take the Dunkaccino instead, which is my second favorite.  "Are you still game for continuing your mystical education today?"

"Oh, yes, I'm fine really," I reassure her, pulling a chocolate glazed from the bag.  She nods and takes a Boston cream and we both sit on her couch, her leaning back casually, me leaning slightly towards her.

"Ok.  We covered the easy part of magic yesterday, how an effect performed on someone in the exact right mindset will imprint on them, allowing them to repeat the effect at will.  That's how most magic is learned, honestly - it works in the other direction too...if someone wants to learn how to impose that effect, they can run through a performance with you supplying the magic and they will get imprinted.  As long as there are enough normal people watching to assign responsibility to them, anyway."

"So that's why this stuff is done in semi-public clubs and theaters?  So there are...what, witnesses?"  Julia nods, pleased.

"Exactly.  But have you noticed the problem with this arrangement?"  I frown, thinking about it, and sip my drink.  After a moment, I get an idea.

"It's sort of a chicken and egg thing, isn't it?  They learn from us and we learn from them...where does new stuff come from in the first place?"

"Right again," Julia says, and I flush with pride.  "The answer is that imprinting is a shortcut.  True magic comes from language, as it always has, and that's how new effects are done initially."

"Language, like...magic words?  Abracadabra?"  She chuckles.

"Other way around...words, in general, are magic.  They bind people together, spreading thoughts, making assertions about reality.  There's a sort of weight to that...the longer a language has been around, the more closely the universe listens to you when you speak it.  But there's an equal counter-balance - the more people speak it now, the less effective it is.  Because most people aren't trying to do magic, they're just living their lives, talking about banal crap and being wrong or lying all the time...the cumulative effect dilutes a language's power."  I chew on my donut as I absorb all of this.

"So...Latin is good because it's old and not really spoken now, while English is less good because it's not as old and spoken all over the place."  Julia nods.

"The trick is, you have to get the language right.  When a normal person speaks, it goes right over the universe's head, so to speak.  Background noise.  But when a Sorceress speaks, the universe listens.  Even so, the universe is the original grammar Nazi!  Say enough words not-quite right, and at best, your spell will not do anything.  At worst (and unfortunately more likely, if you know what you're doing), your spell will go sideways, doing something you didn't entirely intend.  It's why most people stick with imprinting and go to professionals when they need an actual incantation.  Learning a language well enough to speak it fluently is hard enough, but learning it well enough to be confident you're not going to set fire to your own hair or kill all the fish in the Mississippi...takes a lot of time, and diligence."  I nod and think about it some more.

"Isn't that another chicken and egg, though?  Who was the first 'professional', then, how'd he figure stuff out?"  Julie shrugs.

"No one really knows for sure.  The person who taught me thought that whoever invented language in the first place was probably a Sorcerer by default.  Picture it, you're in the stone age, marveling over the power these newfangled thigh bones give you, how many animal heads you can bash in.  But if you want to kill a mammoth, they're big and relatively smart...that still takes some coordination.  Grunting and pointing has been fairly effective, but what if you could grunt in a certain way, so a certain person would know they are the one you want to go where you're pointing.  Huge time-saver.  And if you can change your grunts depending on the target, you can also change them depending on what you want them to do when they get there, or even where 'there' is!"

"You're talking about names?"

"Yep.  But until now, there's been no such thing.  Now, this person comes along, and does some grunting and pointing to establish what grunts are associated with what things, and suddenly it's like you're practically in his head.  He just grunts a few times, and magically, you know he's talking to you, where he wants you to go, and what he wants you to do when you get there.  All because he made some sounds that could mean something, other than 'hey, look at me'."  I'd never thought about words quite that way before, but from that perspective, it makes a lot of sense.  "I have a good example for you right here - the Latin 'cant I bought to get you a Cloak ID and suppress knowledge of your actual true name.  Look, but don't read aloud," she warns, leaning forward to the table to pick up a sheet of paper with several electronically-printed lines and hand it to me.

"So...are professional linguists big-high muckety-mucks?" I ask, as I'm trying to puzzle out the Latin.  Julia chuckles.

"No...they rarely have a Revelation on their own...there has to be intent as well as function to create an effect, and high-level academic study typically doesn't encourage what psychologists call 'magical thinking'.  Plus, there's a general rule against taking someone like that as an Apprentice.  It's tempting...who wouldn't want hot and cold running translations?...but someone with that level of expertise combined with zero experience with the mystical means they're very likely to try something on their own without understanding all the ramifications and end up causing horrific problems for themselves or others."  She gets a funny expression on her face for a moment, looking at me, then turns away.

"Huh.  Well, if I'm guessing the roots correctly, the idea is to magically create proper records for my new name, while at the same time revising all the common current references...utility bills, apartment lease, name on the door buzzer...people's memories?...so that they point to the new name instead of my true name."

"Yep, that's about it.  We're doing it here instead of your place because there are so many things around your apartment with your true name on them that it's easier...spells always seem to go better if you're as subtle about it as possible.  And yes to people's memories, though this is a minor spell - it won't work on any Revealed individuals who already know you."

"Well, that's just you and non-Marlboro man as far as I know.  Obviously I trust you, and he only knows my first name...I know, I know," I interrupted myself, holding up a hand to forestall Julie's inevitable warning.  "I'm trying to be more careful."  Julia has a sour expression, but she lets it lie.

"Well, first things first, you need to choose a cloak ID.  I do recommend 'Stanza' as the first name, as it's close to a modification of your middle name, so might be a bit easier to remember."

"Ok.  How about Stanza Penelope Doolittle?"  Julia smirked.

"Planning on finding a spell to chat up some animals?"

"Oh, no...different Doolittle - two oh's, Eliza.  From My Fair Lady?"

"Ah," Julia said, shrugging.  "Ok, I'm going to give it a shot.  You shouldn't notice anything odd happening, or feel anything odd.  If you do, tell me right away, but wait for a line break.  I can pause in the middle and even write notes to you, but I can't leave a sentence hanging.  Ready?"

"I just wanted to say 'thanks' again.  I'm really glad I met you."  Julie doesn't meet my eyes, instead keeping them locked on the paper.

"Least I could do," she says quickly.  "Here we go, no more interruptions unless it's an emergency, and/or you feel something happening.  She begins to read the Latin incantation, slowly but unflinchingly.  It sounds pretty impressive, and I don't feel anything unusual, so I just wait.

Julia, on the other hand, gets a frown halfway through that only gets deeper as she continues...