"Ha!" he laughed, his face glowing with amusement. "Doubtless they will come up with their own explanations for why the map does what it does. If it is of use to them, I'm certain they'll come up with a way to rationalize it. It is, after all, what ordinaries do."
He sipped his coffee and nodded. "We call it a bent. It's genetic. Each pureblood family has something it's particularly good at. I inherited my father's bent. The Cartamanduas are cartographers, and that's what I am as well. My mother's family are diviners, but I didn't inherit that bent. Is that how it works with your magic? Or is it a more general sort of thing? We can, of course, do more generalized spellcrafting, as well."
His face darkened a little as she spoke; the stiffness of her first words and her insistence that he not worry spoke to the severity of her illness. But he wouldn't press; some things were better left as they were.
"Thank the Holy Mother for it. You're one of the few people I can bear here."