Entry 458. My etiquette test is tomorrow, which means I do not have time this evening for pleasure reading, i.e., Quirinus's A History of Arcano-Naval Stratagems or, even better, Travels on the Planes: Throgmorton's Picturesque Diary of a Year in the Elemental Chaos. My alchemical experiments with Avalonian ice will also have to wait, though I am very excited by last week's finding that it melts at the same rate as mundane ice when exposed to magical fire subsisting on a 6:3:1 ratio of sulphur, brimstone, and residuum. I wonder if I could devise an infernal compound that undoes fey-based enchantment. Maybe I should talk to Tamsen about it? I wish she would show me her powers. Her warlock powers, of course.
Entry 459. It is lucky that I carry my daily arcanomicon with me wherever I go, because I am at Tamsen's party and writing in it is the only thing I can think to do until the ritual starts. Ritual, you ask? Why yes; it's an almost certain-to-fail, cobbled-together rudimentary composite of a sending and a speak-with-dead ritual, the components of which I had to help procure by breaking into Iliaebor's tower with Pavel and Tamsen. The good part is that now Pavel really thinks I'm cool and smart, Chyp, who is a really good friend, thinks I'm even cooler than he did before--and, well, Tamsen and I were alone together for a second beneath a fruit tree. I think she might be a little intimidated by me. And the wizard Illiaebor was impressed by my knowledge and, additionally, my tactful use of etiquette (I of course passed my test).
One more thing: last night I had a realistic dream vision of a warrior-like Viridistanian in my laboratory. I think it was Sadush Seaborn, the one who disappeared with cousin Ashley.
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