“Which of these are real, and which are fake?”

Enna posed the question that simply. Andrea ran a glance over the table. They were all modern books, mostly paperbacks. Some looked old, but no more than 50 years or so. Some looked like they might have been printed yesterday. They weren’t censored, hidden. They weren’t under lock and key. Anyone could walk into a store and buy them, anyone could order them online, no initiation or credentials needed.

The writings of humans who claim to be practicing magic.

“It’s not just printed books, there are some blogs, too. I sent you a list of links.”

“You want me to read all of them?”

“As much as you want. Until you have an answer.”

Andrea shook his head. “Okay, then. They’re all fake.”

“Hm? What makes you say that?”

“I mean, how am I supposed to be able to tell?” Andrea had only just begun studying magic, and he wasn’t even good at it. Day after day, he barely remembered the things Enna had taught him the day before. It was all way over his head, and he didn’t know why Enna was being so patient with him. Or was, he, even?

That “why?” question… it hung in the air, through everything they did. Andrea looked across the apartment. Enna was pulling another book from the shelf. More?

“Hmm, well,” Enna began as he returned to where Andrea stood, “if you were to ask the Sorcerers, or the Alchemists, or your Claudio’s Magicians, they would say exactly that. That these are all fake, there’s no way these humans could know real magic.”

“And the Witches?”

Enna smiled at him. “What do you think?”

It was a fair question. It had come up time and time again in the months they’d been living here together, training and working together, so far. “Well, Rule Number One is that you can’t say “the Witches think…” anything. There is no “We Witches”, there is no Witch Council, all witches make up their own opinions individually, right?”

Enna smiled. “Rule number one is that there are no rules. A point to remember is that there is no “one witch perspective,” but not even that can be called a rule. Good.” He sat, more like hovered, over the back of the sofa. “But what do you think beyond that?”

“About what?” Andrea asked. “About what you think, or about what other witches think?”

“How about what you think?” Enna perked up, focused right in on Andrea. Somehow, Andrea was getting used to being watched like this. Enna actually wasn’t threatening him or anything like that. But still… it felt strange. What did Enna want from him? Was he a pupil, or some sort of human pet, or… or what?

“I said before,” Andrea responded, looking at the floor, his voice flat. “I wouldn’t have any way of knowing, would I?”

“Then don’t know,” Enna continued, “Make a guess. From what you know about magic… could a human just figure it out for themselves? If they did, would they write a book about it? Would they try to spread it? And could they? Would they be allowed to… would they be able to?”

Andrea blinked. The way Enna asked him these questions all the time… it was so unusual, yet, stirring.

“Well,” Andrea began after a moment. “You’ve told me before that there are people who just… find magic. It’s not something you’re born with, it’s not something you have to be given, it’s something you find.” He tensed as he said this, moving on to the next part. Moving over it fast, washing away that raw feeling. That lacking feeling, that he hadn’t been able to find it yet, and didn’t think he ever would. Why am I here?

“So you have some solitary witch,” Andrea continued. “They’re not picked up by the Magicians or Sorcerers, they don’t even know those groups exist. Would they write a book about it? Would they try to show others magic?” He paused to think about it. “How would they know that what they had was different from what other people had? I mean, I guess they would seek out some occult groups. They’d assume that those people were probably doing the same thing they were. That they’d found it, too.”

Enna just listened. “Go on?”

Andrea looked for some sign of whether or not he was on the right track, but found none. Tentatively, he continued. “I mean, it would depend on the group… they might find some actual witches. But I guess they might not. I mean, we don’t exactly have witches flocking to us here from all over the city, so I’m guessing witches don’t have some sort of way to magnetize to each other or something.”

“Good observation.”

Andrea blinked. “Oh… thanks. A-anyway… if they had the luck to find a group of real witches, good for them. If they found some group of people making spells and charms that didn’t really do anything… maybe they’d find a way to show them, maybe not…”

“Do you think our protagonist would always be able to tell the difference?”

Enna’s question caught Andrea off guard. “Yeah, I mean, of course they…” but then he stopped. When he’d first seen Claudio’s magic, he’d doubted it. How many times had it taken to convince him…?

Enna just watched, understanding what Andrea was thinking.

“Everyone has different ideas, different preconceptions about what magic should look like. They won’t always even recognize the real thing. I’ve seen it plenty of times — a city with a thriving magical network, all sorts of groups and events and shops, with all kinds of sigils and herbs, and crystals… and oh, those silly little weird people over there, what they do doesn’t look like magic at all. Aaand behold…” He flicked his finger in the air and smiled.

Andrea looked around the apartment. Well, Enna liked the trappings of crystals, herbs, and sigils, at least. Were they just for show, or did they have some more esoteric function after all?

“So, what does that mean for the books and blogs?” Andrea said.

“Well,” Enna said, “Once you realize you can’t just accept them all or dismiss them all in one bundle…” he strolled over to the table and plucked a book off of the top of one pile. It was a thin paperback volume that seemed to be from about 15 years ago — there had been a vogue for that, hadn’t there? From the cover, it looked to be in the language of the region just east of here. Andrea could only make out a general sense, through what he hoped were cognates, but of course, Enna could read it.

“I doubt anyone would say they could tell 100%. Even if you got the Magicians or the Alchemists or Sorcerers to admit that there could be some real experiences in here, their bias would still cause them to reject accounts much more easily than they accept them. As for me… it’s not that simple. Magic can’t be easily explained in words. And even when the words sound authentic, who’s to say this author isn’t just repeating what they’ve heard from someone else?”

“So if they’re mostly bunk, why do you have such a collection?” Andrea asked. The apartment was filled with books. They’d only just moved in a couple months ago, but Enna had gotten them trucked in from storage somewhere. They weren’t all about magic, and to be honest, Andrea was surprised that such a huge pile of them were this sort of thing.

“It’s interesting,” Enna said. “That’s all.”