This chapter will finally provide us with some answers. No copyright infringement is intended. I don't do offensive, I just do fluff.
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Christine walked into Stephen's study first, heading up to the mantelpiece before turning, watching Stephen enter in turn and close the door carefully behind himself. "I need some answers," she told him blankly, because she did not know any other way to say it.
"I thought you might," he said just as simply, calmly, as if he had been expecting it; maybe even waited for this moment to come.
His next words confirmed it. "I've wondered when you'd start to wonder how things are connected. I cannot tell you everything - there are so many things I do not know myself - but I shall answer as many of your questions as I can. Either way, I will not lie to you." And with one, lightly shaking hand, he gestured to her to sit.
She did, and she decided to start there. "Your hands." It wasn't a question, but evidently he did not need it to be, because he responded readily. She took comfort in that. Maybe Stephen needed her to be ready before he spoke, maybe she needed to ask herself to believe in all the things he needed to tell her. She could accept that as a reason why to pick now to tell her more than he had already done; she needed to ask him. She could believe that as long as he was ready to answer as soon as she asked. And he clearly was.
"You know the medical side of this, of course," he started, and she nodded, " I have nerve damage. That's why my hands shake, and there is no way to heal that sort of damage. That much is true. However, instead of merely using the nerves, I can use a magic connection - when needed - to substitute the damaged nerves and thus steady my hands. The first sorcerer I ever met does this to a much larger extent, and permanently - he cannot walk any more, and medicine cannot help him. However, by using magic instead, he can appear and feel healed. It is not truly so, but in every way that matters, it works. I use my magic for many other things, and so, I only use this power when it is necessary."
"Like when you need to hold a scalpel again," Christine suggested.
"Yes," she noted that Stephen was smiling almost self-deprecatingly, "or when I am in danger of getting burnt by dropping my teacup." Perhaps, in this context, she should not find that funny, but she did. She couldn't help but smile, but Stephen obviously didn't mind. Maybe he had meant to ease the serious atmosphere a bit.
"That woman who died. How old was she?" Christine had heard things hinted at, and she needed them explained. Especially, how dangerous this all really was.
"She was Celtic," Stephen answered right away. "No one knew exactly how old, but ancient indeed. She managed," he preempted the question she was about to ask, "this by drawing power from the dark dimension. The dark dimension is considered evil, usually, but there are a lot of sides to somebody. I do not know the whole story - she died before she could fully explain - but I have concluded that she made a mistake, many many years back, and she held on to be able to help us finally right it, when the time came. She was a remarkable woman."
After a second's pause, he continued, "She was killed by a former apprentice of hers, who had turned to an old enemy from another dimension while seeking power. Before you ask, I was injured, repeatedly, in this struggle also. We won," he cut off what she was about to say, not giving her time to do more than open her mouth, "but there are other enemies out there. There is an ongoing fight, yes, but usually I face human enemies who have heard more than well the rumours. The enemy I fought was very formidable, and I won. You saw the fight in the hospital hallway - faced with me they ran. It is occasionally very dangerous, I will not hide it from you, but it is inevitable. And everlasting. Just because you know there is the occasional struggle or even battle now, that does in no way mean it hasn't always been that way. The Ancient One fought them for us for thousands of years."
Stephen had been talking out into the air, but now he looked at her, and gave her the most miniscule of smiles. "This is not a common thing - I will only face one or two more of these wartimes in my lifetime, I'd say. The everyday battles to keep the peace within our magic society is usally easier, and it is increasinly so as the rumours of what I am capable of spreads. There was a rough patch when the Ancient One fell and word spread that Earth was unprotected, but word is already going around that this was a false report. She had picked someone to take her place."
"And that's you." Christine knew as much, but she still had to have him confirm it.
"And that's me. The Sanctums protect us all, the Sorcerers protect the Sanctums," Stephen confirmed. "I lead the Sorcerers, and I am the Master our former Sorcerer Supreme appointed to protect the New York Sanctum."