We must make for a strange sight, Emma thought to herself as she ordered Sir Bearington forward.
Elizabeth was leading the way for this family outing, by virtue of being the only one who knew the directions, and Noah walked beside her, leaving Emma to bring up the rear. In the absence of an inventory, Elizabeth had conjured saddlebags for Sir Bearington, enough to carry the clothing they intended to buy until an alternative was found. Saint had also come along, refusing to be left behind and now draped around Emma's neck like an oversized orange scarf.
The few bystanders outside in the early morning light gave them all a wide berth as they headed towards to the edge of the rapidly growing town, coming up to a massive tree that Emma was reasonably sure had been transplanted: oak trees, she knew, did not grow to such a size in just a month or two.
Can't we use Dad's storage bag, or whatever Mom has? Emma couldn't help wondering. Sir Bearington won't mind the added weight from the saddlebags, but we'll lose our shopping if I need to swap summons for combat.
[As a general rule, you shouldn't put anything you want to keep in someone else's magical storage. It's usually fine, but enchantments designed to store possessions can get, well, possessive. When they act up, items can become soulbound and unusable by anyone except the storage owner. This tends to happen more frequently the more valuable an item, if you know what I mean. Unsurprisingly, this has led to more than a few property disputes over the years.]
Never mind, Emma sighed. The more I learn about magic, the more questions I have.
[That's the spirit.]
Emma facepalmed, even as Elizabeth brought the party to a halt right in front of the tree. Pressing a hand against the trunk, Elizabeth whispered a few words too quietly to be overheard. A faint tremor shook the ground as the tree collapsed inward, revealing a wooden pathway that led downward into a fluorescent blue fog.
[A decision tree: connected at all times to the parent from which its sapling was cut. A useful method of fast two-way travel, limited mainly by the fact that once a sapling is planted, the magic takes root and the location cannot subsequently be changed.]
Divine Conduit (Anathema): ? activates, casting The Dawkins Special.]
The world shuddered, nearly throwing Emma off her steed as she gripped Sir Bearington's fur for dear life. She got off lightly, as illusions shattered like glass, revealing two ugly looking things with mushroom heads, stick-thin limbs and emaciated torsos. Four pairs of wings hung limply as they struggled on the floor, suddenly unable to muster their flight.
[Annoying Sprite - Level 5]
Saint pounced before Emma could decide on a course of action, barreling into the nearest Sprite and swallowing it whole. Its companion tried to run, emphasis on tried, managing barely a walking speed with a body unused to physical exertion. Against the apex predator that was the felis catus, he never had a chance.
"Thanks," Emma muttered, happy not to have to chase mischievous spirits through their home turf as she rejoined her parents, both of them now visible at a park bench enjoying some tea.
"There you are," Elizabeth was the first to notice her arrival, as she vanished her teacup with a snap of her fingers. "Just a ten minute delay between our arrival and yours; pretty good by network standards."
"Happy to be here," Emma quipped, turning her head to take in her destination, now that it was no longer covered by illusions.
It looked surprisingly ordinary, all told: two long rows of log cabins, most of which had queues out the front door; interspersed by trees, brush and a single meandering stream cutting through the centrepoint. Smaller tents surrounded the permanent structures, far less busy and identified by signposts hawking their wares rather than a name. The heady scents of the forest mixed with the sharp aroma of fresh onions, grilled meat and ketchup; the nearest tent being a concession stand offering food rather than magic.
All in all, it bore a closer resemblance to Emma's school trips than anything akin to Diagon Alley, as she'd been imagining.
"Welcome to the Sherwood Gallery," Elizabeth declared. "Where anything can be found for great prices; it's the finding that's hard."