How Lovely Are Thy Branches: A Young Wizards Christmas by Diane Duane Page A

are you trying to solve this problem inside a single dimension? It doesn’t work. A dimensionally transcendent being like one of the Powers would hardly limit itself to functioning in only three or four dimensions. The evidence clearly indicates someone working in six or better. See, the temporal element—”
    Kit’s pop looked up at that. “Wait, I thought time was the fourth dimension — “
    All the wizards in the room groaned. “No no no,” Kit moaned, “too much popular culture!”
    “Listen, don’t blame me , I hit New Math and bounced,” Kit’s dad said. “Or maybe I got it from Rod Serling.”
    “—but once you’re into six-and-up, millions of apparent visits to physical reality per second is no great problem. It’s only inside the orthogonal plane of time that everything seems to be happening amazingly fast. But if you’re one of the Powers, there’s not the slightest rush. You slide sidewise into the applicable orthotemporal dimension, just that one, mind you, and then you drop off whatever playthings are required make a drop. And then you pull out again and restock at your leisure, and then dip into that timeplane again. When you’re in D7 or thereabouts, the temporality of D3 and D4 is hardly an issue...”
    “That’s it,” Ronan said, “he’s solved Santa. We have nothing left to live for.”
    Tom started chuckling and couldn’t seem to stop. Carl, who’d been in the kitchen chatting with Kit’s mama and Marcus, now wandered out with a bemused expression. “What?”
    “Santa Claus,” Tom said to Carl with great seriousness, “is one of the Powers that Be.”
    Carl looked at him thoughtfully. “Did you get the bottom of the eggnog?”
    Tom looked askance at him, and then started laughing again. Most of the people in the room looked confused. And Carl sat on the arm of the sofa and told the story of how once upon a time Tom’s father got The Bottom of the Eggnog—where all the nutmeg winds up if you forget to shake the jug—and then (due to nutmeg’s psychoactive qualities) had to go to the ER due to what Tom described as Accidentally Seeing God. Shortly half the room was helpless with laughter. Tom, meanwhile, seeing that Marina had indeed just brought out the first of the eggnog jugs, got up and went over to it and shook it in the most ostentatious way possible before pouring Carl a glass.
    Filif was watching and listening to all this in fascination. Nita leaned over to him. “I think this is some of what Christmas is about,” she said. “Tradition. The stories that come out this time of year.”
    “Old interactions,” Filif said, “that can be depended on. Reinforcements of the cyclical nature of, well, Nature. Tales and reminiscences and old jokes…”
    “There’ll be scary ghost stories and tales of the glories / of Christmases long long ago…” Ronan sang.
    “We need him tomorrow night,” said Kit’s mama through the passthrough. “He sings on key, and he plainly has something better than a bucket to carry a tune in. Whoever's bucket it is. You are not going anywhere tomorrow, you hear me?”
    Ronan just grinned.
    “Look,” Dairine said, “let’s go downstairs and leave the oldsters to their own devices—”
    “Do I detect the sleepover beginning?” Kit’s pop said.
    Carmela rose up in great dignity and grabbed Filif by one frond. “Might as well,” she said. “We’ll leave you to talk grownup talk… we know you’ve been dying to get us out of here.”
    There was less disagreement with this than Nita would have expected, and more good-natured laughter. “Anything you people want to take downstairs with you?“
    “Make another pot of the hot chocolate?”
    “Way ahead of you, Leprechaun. It’s right there on the stove staring at you.”
    The younger participants mouthed Leprechaun?! at one another.
    “And there’s some ice cream, too. That double chocolate Kit likes. Nita, maybe you want to grab that, and the bowls and spoons...” Kit’s