Lessons Of Jaysome

The problem with being a magician is that it is often not a problem at all. The universe bends to meet your needs, the magic a bonus on top of that. For those who need money, The Bank provides it. Or the fae, in my case, because there are debts and balances and no one, especially not the fae, want to see what Jay would do to get money if he didn’t have an unlimited credit card.

There are perks to being ‘Honcho’ to an eleven year old from Outside the universe who could unbind everything if he tried to. The small, nondescript office I’m standing outside is the flip side of that. Even to magicians, the house seems like a normal home converted into a few offices. I can see it is really a thick stone tower connected to one of the fae castles at the edge of the universe. It remains an office even so.

A door appears and opens before I can touch a wall. The fae that comes out looks human enough; I can see through fae glamours put on places, but fae can still hide themselves if they try. This one is.

“Hello. I am here about Jay.” I pause while the fae visibly pales. “His credit card.”

“Your pardon?”

“I’d like to know what he is spending his money on over the past two days. Please. And how the credit cards work.”

“You did not ask before?”

“They are an arrangement Charlie and Jay made. But I am asking now.”

The fae blinks, eyes unfocusing for a moment. Then tells me. I thank them and walk away, reach out. Magic. Need. Will. Desire. And the bindings Jay has with me. I take one step, another, and the third has me half across the city to where Jay walks out of an apartment building with a huge grin.

“Hi, Honcho!”

“Kiddo. What are you up to?”

“I’m doing jaysome!”

“Instead of just being jaysome?”

“Uh-huh! Did you know that food stamps aren’t just stamping food in stores when you leave but! people need them for food?!”

“Ah. Yes.”

“And lots of people need food and a Jay eats a lot Honcho!”

“I do know that,” I say dryly. “But you can’t buy it for people on your fae credit card, Jay.”

“Huh?”

“Sometimes there are recessions where a lot of money is lost; money that would have existed if not for a recession goes on the those cards. And using up too much money would cause another.”

Jay blinks, mouths the word recession. Feels bindings. Begins to understand. “Oh,” he says, in a very small voice.

“But every time you eat, you pay for food. That money goes to people who spend it, help themselves, each other.” I reach out and poke his belly. The growl that responds has more teeth to it than he does when he’s a jaysaurus. “And you have to look after yourself, and eat for all of you.”

“Oh!” He grins, slams into me with a hug. “I’ll do a supper now,” he says happily, vanishing in the middle of the sidewalk. Almost no one notices, simply because people do not vanish in the middle of the street.

I call Charlie to warn her Jay is liable to be at the hotel room for food soon. And then reach, through the bindings I have with Jay, and gently – oh, so gently – mute his understanding of recession. Because if Jay understood how economics worked, I am certain he would do things only he could do. And he would live with them, because he was jaysome. But others might not.

I let out a low breath after. Some days – some days all I want to do is let Jay fix the world. And every logical reason why he shouldn’t grows less and less with each year that passes. It is the duty of magicians to protect the universe against threats from Outside, and there is perhaps no greater threat than kindness without understanding.

But even so. Even so.