High above the clouds, where rivers curl through the sky and islands drift wherever the wind happens to fancy, there stands a crooked little tower with seven windows, six chimneys, and a front door that has been purple since an unfortunate incident involving enchanted blueberries.

This is the home of Fizzwick the Mage. 

Fizzwick is a scholar of celestial enchantments, ancient runes, transfiguration, potion craft, elemental manipulation, and several branches of magic the Council has specifically requested he stop practicing indoors.

Fizzwick considers this an impressive list of accomplishments.

The Council considers it a list of concerns.

He shares his tower with Timothy, a small gray mouse whose principal magical ability is knowing when something is about to go terribly wrong.

Timothy is exceptionally gifted.

Every morning, Fizzwick pulls on his enormous purple hat, fastens his starry cloak beneath his chin, opens one of the hundreds of spellbooks piled throughout his tower, and asks what Timothy considers the most dangerous question in the Arcane Heights.

"I wonder what would happen if..."

Timothy usually stops eating at this point.

It was this question that once turned Fizzwick's breakfast into a small but remarkably polite dragon. It was responsible for the singing staircase, three purple chickens that no one has successfully explained, and an afternoon during which gravity stopped working in the pantry.

Fizzwick keeps careful notes about all of these discoveries. Timothy keeps emergency cheese.

One rainy afternoon, Fizzwick discovered a book hidden behind a shelf of perfectly ordinary magical texts. The book was enormous. It was ancient. And written across its cover in stern silver letters were the words:

MAGICS BEST LEFT ALONE

Fizzwick gasped.

Timothy sighed.

"Do you know what this means?"

Timothy squeaked.

"Exactly. Someone has been hiding the interesting books."

That was not remotely what Timothy had said.

Fizzwick opened it. Near the very center, he discovered a spell unlike any he had ever seen.

THE SPELL OF ABSOLUTE KNOWING

Ask one question and know its true answer. Fizzwick's violet eyes became enormous.

He could learn where stars went during the day. He could discover whether dragons dreamed in color. He could finally determine why his left sock disappeared every third Thursday.

Timothy climbed onto the book and pointed toward a line written beneath the spell.

Fizzwick squinted.

"Warning: Magic requires an exact understanding of all ingredients before casting."

"Yes, yes. Standard wizard language."

Timothy pointed again.

"I have been practicing magic for years."

Timothy folded his tiny arms. Fizzwick began gathering ingredients.

???

Three moonstones. A starpetal. Powdered crystal. A drop of water gathered beneath a full moon. And finally...

"Essence of uncertainty." Fizzwick frowned. Timothy leaned over the page.

"I don't have any Essence of Uncertainty."

Timothy squeaked.

"No, I am not asking Master Eldrin. He'll want to know what I'm doing."

Another squeak.

"And then he'll say no."

Timothy nodded.

"You aren't being particularly helpful."

Timothy returned to his cheese.

Fizzwick searched every cupboard, drawer, potion bottle and suspiciously humming box in the tower. Nothing.

Eventually, he placed a bottle of ordinary water beside the spellbook.

"Uncertainty is a feeling. Water is unpredictable. Therefore, water contains uncertainty."

Timothy slowly lowered his cheese.

Fizzwick raised one paw. Blue magic spiraled around his claws.

Timothy began backing away.

"Abra..."

Timothy ran.

"...Cat..."

Timothy ran faster.

"...DABRA!"

The tower exploded with blue light.

FWOOM! Books flew from their shelves. Every window burst open. Fizzwick's hat shot across the room and landed on a lamp.

And Timothy...

Timothy floated gently past the ceiling.

Upside down.

Inside a shimmering blue bubble.

Fizzwick stared.

Timothy stared back.

"Fascinating."

Timothy's expression suggested several words considerably less polite than fascinating.

"Don't worry. I know exactly how to fix this."

Timothy covered his face.

Fizzwick tried a reversal spell. The bubble doubled in size.

He tried a levitation charm. The furniture began floating.

He tried a transfiguration spell. His hat became a cabbage.

He tried an unlocking charm. Every door in the Arcane Heights flew open simultaneously.

Somewhere across the clouds, an elderly Mage shouted Fizzwick's name. Fizzwick quietly closed the window.

Hours passed. Timothy remained upside down.