“Yes,” Humphrey said. “Our mothers arranged him becoming my familiar. Or me becoming his person, depending on how you look at it.”

“Your mum knows dragons,” Jason said. “I guess mine does too, although it’s more of a metaphor. Great Aunt Margaret doesn’t literally breathe fire.”

Humphrey laughed. “You’re here to be assessed for the Adventure Society, I take it?”

“Yeah, I did all the paperwork yesterday,” Jason said. “Any idea of what to expect?”

“They'll just check to make sure you don't have any restricted abilities. There'll be an official from the Adventure Society, of course, but they're only there to oversee things. The actual checking will be done by a priest from the church of knowledge. Don't try to slip anything past them, because there isn't any point.”

“Because a god’s involved?”

“Exactly. Then there'll be someone from the Magic Society to record your essences. They'll imply you have to let them record all your individual abilities, but you actually don't. I'm told that the trick is to let them know that you know you don't have to and then do it anyway. Getting on the good side of the Magic Society is always a good idea.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

“If you’ve awakened any of your racial gifts, though, keep those to yourself,” Humphrey advised. “They’re very big on those at the Magic Society and you can trade the details in exchange for favours down the line.”

Jason recalled Farrah telling him that humans all had dormant racial gifts that awakened unique powers based on their essences. He assumed the same advice would hold true for his outworlder abilities. More so, if anything.

“Good to know,” Jason said. “Much appreciated, mate.”

“I hope you don’t mind me saying,” Humphrey said, “but your manner of speech is a little unusual. Are you using a translation power?”

“I am,” Jason said. “I’m not local; I just arrived in town yesterday.”

“Where do you hail from, originally?” Humphrey asked.

“Australia.”

“Never heard of it,” Humphrey said. “Best not tell Mother or she’ll harangue my geography tutor. Does everyone there shave their eyebrows.”

“I didn’t shave them,” Jason said. “I lost them.”

“How do you lose your eyebrows?”

“It’s been an odd couple of weeks.”

A door opened and the canary on Humphrey's head morphed back into a puppy, its front paws dangling over his forehead. Humphrey lifted it down as a man entered the room. He was wearing what Jason had come to recognise as local business attire, quite different from the equivalent in his own world. The local fashions all went for loose, hanging designs that were more practical for the hot climate.

“Young Master Geller,” the man said to Humphrey, not so much as glancing at Jason. “This is, of course, a formality for you, but the formalities must be observed.”