I finish a casting of Farpunch but don’t activate it. I inspect my casting of Farpunch to make sure that it’s making mana that’s gone through a sequence of transformations similar to one of the transformations used by Shield for One. As far as I can tell, it feeds mana into a large loop that stores and focuses it, a lot like a particle accelerator ring, and when the spell is cast I expect that all that accumulated mana will get dumped into my target all at once. Which is incredibly important for me, because it means that the assembly pointing at the side of the storage ring will reshape the ring to open it up when the spell activates, and that smells like something I could turn into a spell that casts more spells. I dismiss Farpunch and Read Mana goes with it.

I cast another Read Mana to replace the one that was dismissed. I cast another Farpunch, trying to make it as smooth and rapid as possible. I inspect the resulting Farpunch matrix to make sure it came out looking right-ish. I dismiss Farpunch and Read Mana. I cast Read Mana. I cast Farpunch. I inspect Farpunch. I dismiss them. I cast them. I inspect them. I—

Hold on.

I very, very carefully move my hands over eight inches and start forming a second Farpunch matrix alongside the first. I pay close attention to the mana streams and mana generators; Farpunch is pretty clean compared to Shield for One or Make Ready, but it does still throw off a decent amount of “waste” mana that might interfere with another spell. It looks like it’s stable, though. When I’m done I have two Farpunches queued up and ready to go. I can’t test it because the wagon is still moving, but I have a feeling that all I’d need to do to set both of them off is poke them one after another.

I can’t help but sit back and gape, staring into the forest around us. This is a huge improvement in my ability to kill things. I can just walk around with a half-dozen spells fully cast and ready to go.

Why does Make Ready exist, then?

Safety, duh. If I deactivate my casting points all of my half-formed spell matrices poof away, so I’d have to walk around with a fireball configured to go off if I accidentally put my hand in the wrong place. At that point you’re just asking for a negligent discharge. Like carrying a handgun with the safety off and your finger on the trigger. Make Ready still isn’t great, since you can easily forget that you have a spell “stored” and go to cast a prestidigitation and have a fireball come out, but at least it’s consistent and you can train it. For example, I don’t know if I’ll ever store anything other than Shield for One in a Make Ready. Maybe Featherfall, if I figure that out?

Hmm, but I could leave my spells two gestures away from completion rather than one, couldn’t I? The final activating gesture would be easy, but the gesture before that would require both hands and careful finger positioning. Still like having a gun out, but with an empty chamber, the safety on, and my finger off the trigger. Then I guess Make Ready would be mostly useful for situations when you can’t complete a spell, like, if you’re falling out of an airplane or tied up.

I guess Make Ready is probably also demonstrating some important spellcasting principle that I haven’t yet picked up on. Like how to pay attention to the caster while they’re not casting or how to modify another spell in a way that’s slightly different than how Stall does it.

Anyway! I’ll do some more experimentation with that setup, see how many spells I can prepare at once and how fast I think I could reliably trigger them, then get Farshove and Firestream working. I’m vaguely starting to get a feel for how long days take around here, and if Fordlams to Stonehill takes the same time that Calfort to Fordlams took, I should have easily enough time to learn another simple spell or two. Especially since my new trick should cut time-per-attempt in half or better, since Read Mana takes three times as long as Farpunch and now I think I’ll only have to cast it once every three or four attempts.

An hour or so later, after we’ve emerged from the Stonehill Forest, Heather notices my satisfied grin and array of spells and asks me what I’ve learned. I can’t help but laugh gleefully.

“If I have two or three minutes to prepare, I can queue up about… ten spells,” I say happily, indicating the nearly-complete Firestreams I have floating in front of me, “and fire them off in rapid sequence. Just have to poke them all one after the other.” I mime my firing sequence, pointing the spells into the roadside hedgerows and carefully avoiding the activation points even though I left out all the mana generators.

“Impressive,” Heather says.

“It’s also made learning faster, since I can make a bunch of attempts in between recasting Read Mana. Which, let me tell you,” I gripe, “has been quite annoying. I think I could cast Read Mana in my sleep by now. Can’t believe I didn’t figure this out before now.”

“Certainly useful. I take it that’s not the only spell you’ve learned?”

“I got Farpunch and Farshove down earlier this morning, which I think are more optimized versions of the way I whacked you with my shield last night. And I just finished Firestream. It sets things on fire,” I tell her, as if it’s not completely obvious. “I think it probably doesn’t require that license, though.”

Heather points a skeptical eyebrow at me.

“Look,” I defend myself, “I haven’t actually cast the spell yet so I don’t know what it does, so it could be completely fine.”

Heather slowly lowers her face into one hand. “You have no idea what the actual requirements for the license are,” she tries to remind me.

“I’m also not certain I got the somatic components right,” I point out, “so I technically haven’t even learned it yet!” My logic is irrefutable.

“Yes, Whitney, thank you for your careful, well-considered adherence to the spirit of the law,” Heather groans, face now firmly buried in both hands. “Liv,” she calls, “do you know who’s doing Destructive Effects this hundred?”

“In Stonehill?” Liv turns around to join the conversation. “No idea, haven’t looked recently. Why?”

“I need to know whether to send Whitney with a gift basket and an apology or with a note telling the instructor that they deserve her.”

“Hey, I’m not that bad,” I protest. “Right?” I look around. “…Right? Oh come on. Agnes!” I turn and give her my best puppy-dog eyes, because I know she’s listening and that she’ll support me. “Back me up here, I’m not that bad.”

“Whitney,” the serious-seeming armored woman flatly replies, “you carry yourself with the air of a woman one flight of fancy away from styling herself ‘The Entirely Sane.’”

“See!” I crow, triumphantly misinterpreting her statement. “Agnes says I’m entirely sane. And she has the giant hammer thingy which means she’s the judge. Bangs giant hammer thingy, defendant not guilty, case closed, court adjourned.”

“It’s called a gavel,” Heather sighs heavily. “Yet another reason I have to make sure you never set foot in a courtroom.”

“I totally knew that!” I claim. “I was just saying ‘giant hammer thingy’ because it sounds funnier.”

“So sayeth Whitney The Entirely Sane, First Of Her Name,” Liv intones solemnly.

We come into view of Stonehill about half an hour later and I immediately realize why it has the name. It is, literally, a stone hill, rows of buildings marching up one of the outlying foothills of the Leoswell Range. Or maybe some kind of isolated outcropping, like, whatsitcalled, big stone thing in the middle of a plain, monadnock? At points the hill—more like a small mountain—has been quarried away, leaving huge angular terraces that I think have been turned into stadiums and amphitheaters. Dominating the city, a tall castle perches precariously at the top of the hill, quarried terraces converging to raise the stronghold two hundred feet above the city’s highest houses and offices. A winding road takes dozens of switchbacks to climb up a colossal ramp, the only part of the hill that hasn’t been cut away to present sheer cliffs. It’s the epitome of high fantasy architecture, a feat of civil engineering that’d be utterly impossible for any civilization whose military would be stopped by tall stone walls.

More of the city climbs out from behind the hedgerows as we draw near. Stonehill’s walls are taller than Calfort’s, so I can only see the buildings on the hill. Almost all of those appear to be made from stone, which doesn’t surprise me given the colossal amount of quarrying that’s been done to the titular hill.

More differences become visible when we break free of the fields and enter another of those cleared kill-zones around the city walls. The wall has towering gatehouses that swarm with guards, and I see a dozen more towers studding the walls around the city. The road hits the walls at an angle, rather than projecting straight out like Calfort’s road did. I suppose that this is evidence that Calfort was built after Stonehill? And that Calfort’s position was chosen based on geography rather than where Stonehill’s street grid pointed, which is somehow almost disappointing compared to the rest of this place’s civil engineering. The walls and gates—and the road, now that I give it some attention—are made out of a bright granite-looking stone, flecked with sparkles and bits of black and pink.

Since I’m not going to be doing any more spell practice, I cast Make Ready and Shield for One to ready my standard defense.

This time we’re checked at the gates. Chase and Mas and the other carters don’t unhook themselves, but I join almost everyone else in grabbing my pack, hopping down, and lining for the checkpoint. Yaroslav’s clerks instead dig out their shipping manifests and accompany the guards as they walk up and down the convoy, using skills to check that everything is in order. I carefully resist the temptation to cast Find Spellcraft to see what they’re doing.

Despite everyone having their badges ready, Axelos’s unconscious body causes some consternation. I can tell that some of the guards were just about ready to point their weapons at us, which I find oddly comforting. Finally someone is making sure we actually have the authority to arrest people, knock them unconscious, and carry them around like sacks of potatoes! The guards don’t totally stand down until Heather provides some additional paperwork, probably something like an arrest warrant and documentation that she’s allowed to execute it.

Meanwhile, I’m being menaced by my own helmeted, spear-and-clipboard-wielding guard.

“Name and ID, please.”

“Um,” I offer. “Whitney Ismael. I don’t have paperwork yet. I’m a new Visitor?”

“How long have you been here?”

“Two days. Wait, no, two nights, three days. Uhh. Yeah, three nights. Caulfield, Fordlams,” I say in a jumble, counting on my fingers to make sure. “Sorry, it’s been a little bit stressful and I’m never good at paperwork anyway.”

“Understandable, miss.” I’m not sure if I should be annoyed by his choice of title or not. Whatever. He doesn’t give me time to ponder, instead flipping to another piece of paper on his clipboard and launching into what I think is exactly the same speech that Liv gave me when I’d arrived. “Any powers, notable capabilities, or gifts to report? Did you see, hear, or otherwise interact with any—” If he were any scarier I’d be having flashbacks, but I have a feeling that Liv would go through him and his entire guardpost like a Jedi Master through stormtroopers.

Speaking of, Liv interrupts him with a wave. “I already gave her the talk, don’t worry,” she says. “Senior Special Agent Liv Thompson, Bureau of Isekai Affairs.” She flips out her badge and shows it to the guard.

“Ah, sorry, ma’am,” he apologizes. “Just making sure.”

“Of course,” Liv reassures him. “Better to be safe about it. Also, Whitney, just to be safe, stick with me or Heather for the time being?”

“Definitely,” I agree cheerfully. “I’m friends with everyone that’s willing to help me pay off my debts to the paperwork mafia.” Then I realize I’m standing right in front of a member of said paperwork mafia and feel like I’m turning bright red. “Uh, oops. No offense, mister guardsman sir.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he laughs, and waves us through the gates. “Welcome to Stonehill.”