When Elias ran away to join the wandering mage, rucksack on a shoulder and need in his eyes, he expected to endure danger: loose demons, dimensions of shadow, infinite walking brooms. He didn’t expect to spend two weeks huddled amidst turnip sacks in a rickety wagon.

“You said you were an itineromancer,” he scowls at his ersatz teacher.

“Yes, when I want to be,” says Domingo.

“But!” bursts Elias. “That’s the whole–does this work at all? Can’t you go wherever you want with your magic?”

“Sure I can,” says Domingo placidly, settling back. “As long as I’ve been there before.”