“Shh!” Jacques hushed, knocking on a wooden panel on the wall next to him five times. Several seconds later, Handy saw it open, and Jacques said something incomprehensible to someone on the opposite side of the wall in French. The deep, cracking voice in the darkness beyond asked a flurry of questions, responded at relative length by Jacques, to such a point that Handy very much felt like a third wheel to this conversation. After some time, the panel closed. “And so it begins. I sent the word out, describing the kind of pony we’re looking for and the kind of magic we want to track.” Handy blinked.