Till Human Voices Wake Us (2014) - Plot & Excerpts
But he understood these patterns, these energies, these interwoven and imbricated pleatings of power and thought and ancient metaphysical currents. He lit the fire in a firework burst of magic, just because he could, because the dammed magic was so fully present to him he wasn’t really aware of anything but the ribbons of power circling him like a maypole. He was alive: he was alive: the world was alert and waiting, the magic tense and awaiting his will like a dog before the hunt. Moonset: he climbed up to the roof to stand on the edge of the tower’s platform. The chimney ran up one side of it, so he could stand there with the warm stone at his back. From there he looked eastwards, to the hill with its three trees still lit by the Moon. She was just off full. He unwove the cloud cover over southern England. The winds roosting on Saint Paul’s stirred as his magic passed over them. With the borders between the worlds closed he felt strangely benumbed. Not in the same way as he had under the effects of the nirgal slaurigh, but more as if some few notes were dampened and mute.
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