One magician demanded I show him an image of the love of his life. I rustled up a mirror.

Despite his crimped shirts and flowing mane (or perhaps because of them) I had seen no evidence as yet that Nathaniel even knew what a girl was. If he'd ever met one, chances are they'd both have run screaming in opposite directions.

It's the same with spirit guises; show me a sweet little choirboy or a smiling mother and I'll show you the hideous fanged strigoi it really is. (Not always. Just sometimes. *Your* mother is absolutely fine, for instance. Probably.)

That's a gesture of endearment in some cultures. Some hug, some kiss, some set each other on fire in small patches of woodland

He was transfixed at the sight of the lords and ladies of his realm running about like demented chickens.

A dozen more questions occurred to me. Not to mention twenty-two possible solutions to each one, sixteen resulting hypotheses and counter-theorems, eight abstract speculations, a quadrilateral equation, two axioms, and a limerick. That's raw intelligence for you.

Watch where you leave your victims! I stubbed my toe on that.