"Yeah? Ladybugs spelled out your initials? That's very cool," said Ian, looking impressed. "And you're not even initiated yet. But I guess you've got your mother's power, then."

Self-consciously Moira shrugged, although by now she was used to having a mother who was famous in Wiccan circles. All of Moira's life, she'd heard people speaking respectfully about Morgan Byrne of Belwicket-her powers, her incredibly strong healing gifts, the promise of her craft. Moira was proud of her mum, but at the same time it was hard, always wondering if she would ever measure up.

"With your powers, why weren't you initiated earlier?" Ian asked. "It seems like you would be amazing by now."

"You don't think I'm amazing?" Moira said teasingly, feeling incredibly daring. She had a moment of anxiety when Ian quit smiling and just looked at her thoughtfully. I went too far, I went too far-

"No," he said quietly. "I do think you're amazing."

Her face lit up, and she forgot to be cool. "I think you're amazing, too."

"Oh, yes, me," Ian said. "I can move forks. Look."

As Moira watched, Tess's leftover fork slid slowly toward her, about an inch. Moira grinned and raised her eyebrows at him, and he looked pleased.

"Pretty good," she said, an idea popping into her mind. Hopefully she could pull it off. "Watch this," she said boldly. "Look at everyone in the room who's reading"-which was three-quarters of the people there. Most tables seemed to have an open book or magazine or paper on them. Moira closed her eyes and pictured what she wanted to do, tamping down the mote of conscience that wairned her it was probably not a good idea. Right, then, I hope this works.

All the pages move as one, as if the story's just begun. I flip the pages lightly so, and my will tells them where to go.

Then, seeing it in her mind, Moira turned one page in each paper, book, or magazine throughout the cafe at Margath's Faire.