“Magic. Spell after spell, upon spell— Rowan threw up her hands. “This,” she said, “this is what I hate about magic!” She rose abruptly, knocking over her chair, took two angry steps away, one back, and stood, dithering in frustration. “Every time one talks about magic, it’s all ifs and maybes— it’s all guesses, and guesses built on other guesses”— she made sharp, agitated gestures— “and hypotheses based purely upon guesses with anything, anything at all, possible— there are no parameters!” She flung out both arms, spoke to the world at large. “There have to be parameters!” She leaned on the table, spoke urgently. “Anything that happens,” she said— addressing Steffie only because she must address someone, and Zenna already knew these things— “any event, process, initiation, conclusion, any occurrence at all, must take place within a framework of delimited possibility. Reality is not infinitely fluid; if it were, the world would be a very different place than it is. Magic does have parameters.“”