"Is that a big problem?" I didn't like the idea of hundreds of magic users held back only by what sounded like the fine print on the back of the box and a pretty small group of monitors.

"Not really. The wicked enchanter driven mad in his lust for power is yet another thing that you mostly just find in books and movies. It happens, but for the most part, if your life is already pretty good, there's not much reason to go around hurting others. People with real psychological disorders are screened out early in life, so they don't get their hands on spells to begin with, or else they're rehabilitated."

"That's good to know."

The next door didn't just open for Rod. He had to press his hand against a metal plate and say something under his breath in what sounded like Latin before the lock clicked and the door opened."This is R and D, Owen's domain," Rod said.

The area looked like something out of a Frankenstein movie, or something else involving mad scientists. A corridor ran between glass-walled labs, some full of bubbling bottles, others looking more like libraries. People wearing white lab coats walked around with clipboards, making notes. The occasional popping sound and flash of light came from labs as we passed.

"This is where the magic happens, literally," Rod said.

We reached a final, larger lab. This one could have existed in any major university without anyone thinking anything of it, aside from the rather odd things written on the whiteboards that rimmed the walls. Owen stood in front of one of the boards, holding an old book in one hand and writing on the board with his other hand. Rod waited until he finished what he was writing before he said, "Owen."

Owen blinked, then turned to see us and smiled. "So, you're getting the grand tour?"

he said to me, pink spreading up his face toward his hairline.

"Looks like it. It's fascinating."

"Owen heads our theoretical magic division," Rod said.

"We try to determine what is and isn't possible using magic," Owen explained. "A lot of it is going back to the ancient texts and seeing if there's a way to update the spells for the times, or finding out if the spells ever worked at all. Some of the ancient wizards elaborated a bit too much in what they recorded."

"We also have a practical magic division that takes what Owen discovers and fine-tunes the spells for mass distribution," Rod added.

Just then a young man with spiked hair came limping into the room. His pants leg was shredded from the knee down. "For the record, that dog-soothing spell you translated doesn't work," he said to Owen. "I don't know if it's the translation or the spell itself, but . . ." He gestured toward his tattered pant leg.

Owen winced. "Sorry about that, Jake." He made a note on his whiteboard. "I'll look into it. You'd better go see a healer."

Jake limped away. "Dangerous line of work," I commented.

"That wasn't an authorized test," Owen said. "Some of us can't resist trying out something we've read about. Most of us are more careful, though." He grinned abruptly. "But when you're in a tricky situation, the last thing you've read is generally what comes to mind. That's the risky part about working in theory. You never know if it's going to work when you need it."

Rod laughed. "Yeah, remember that time when you—" He shut up immediately when Owen shot him a glare. "Anyway, what they do here isn't without its risks, but fortunately for you, you won't need to work much with R and D."

"You're welcome to visit anytime, though," Owen said. "We'd be happy to answer any questions you might have about magic, and this is where the resident experts are."

"I'll start a list of questions, once I know enough to even know what I should be asking."

"Well, we have a tour to finish," Rod said, taking my arm and guiding me away with what almost seemed to be a hint of jealousy, which struck me as odd. For one thing, I'm not the kind of woman who inspires jealousy. I've never had anyone fight over me. For another, it wasn't like Owen had said or done anything to inspire jealousy. It was probably my imagination.

After a second Owen came after us. "Oh, I almost forgot. Mr. Mervyn wants to see Katie when you're through with the tour, and then he's called a lunch meeting for the usual suspects."

Rod groaned. "Nice of him to give me advance warning. We're not all precogs, you know. Good thing my calendar's clear."

"He cleared everyone's calendar last week, as usual."