Magic in the Dangerous Damsels Series

After last week’s review of the second book in the “Dangerous Damsels” series, I want to throw a bit of light at the use of magic in the series. The magic is not the main part here, first of all, as the books are a fun romp of action, romance, comedy, and melodrama, but it is persistent throughout and comes with a few interesting ideas and implications.

As mentioned, the magic is not the main part of the story. It is not relevant to the main plot, as these are not stories about someone discovering they have magic and going on a quest to learn to control it. All four main characters of the two books, both female leads and both male ones, can use the setting’s magic, because everyone can, which is an interesting aspect.
In the first book, we have a look at how the sky pirates use the setting’s magic to lift off with their homes and fly them around — into battle, on a plundering trip, or just because they want a change of scenery. In the second one, we see how the witches, the second group to come out of the discovery (or, rather, rediscovery) of the spell, use the magic in a much more discreet and understated way to manipulate small objects and cause things to happen. Both ways are equally valid, of course, and nothing speaks against a pirate using the spell on small objects or a witch taking over a house to fly it. It’s a matter of philosophy which has lead to the formation of two different factions who both think they are practising magic the only right way.

An interesting aspect of the Latin poem which is used to levitate objects of any size is that there is no inborn talent needed to use it. Everyone who knows the stanzas of the poem and can pronounce them correctly can use the spell.
Among the pirates, it is common to teach a servant or two about the spell so they can fly the house in the absence of the owner or while the owner wants to relax a little and have tea during the trip. Funnily enough, though, the Wisteria Society ladies are averse to teaching their husbands the poem in question, because men should know their place and take care of household and children while the lady of the house is out plundering. This does not go for the two male leads of the series’ books, both of whom are pirates in their own right. Sometimes, the servants need a bit of practice, but that’s mostly due to them speaking with an accent or otherwise having to learn proper pronunciation.
In the first book, Queen Victoria is taught the poem by one of the junior members of the society and easily manages to make Buckingham Palace take off and steer it across the countryside. It’s her first time, but she has no problem with making the huge building do as she wishes. In the second book, an elderly woman whose house the pirates attack by accident (it has a door the same colour as the villain’s) demands the poem as reparation payment and then sets off to fly around on her own.
While we haven’t seen a pirate use the poem for something more subtle so far, there’s also the fact that the female lead of the second book, who is a witch, quickly understands how a house is steered herself, despite never having done so before.
Magic in this setting is marvellously democratic — everyone can do it.

The challenges of using magic in the setting are to memorize the stanzas properly, learn the proper pronunciation, and be able to speak. Even if a whispered stanza is enough for a witch to move objects, she must be able to speak. If a witch or pirate is gagged, they cannot use the magic at all.
The focus on pronunciation rather than a specific talent which sorts the world into mages and non-mages is interesting and refreshing. It is also something which makes the many high-society members of the magical community make more sense — elocution lessons are common in the education of the high-born and so is learning Latin in the first place. Both together guarantee a good grasp on the poem and a high success rate when using it.
The higher classes have a slight advantage when it comes to learning the spell — both because they are better at correct pronunciation and because they are more likely to know someone who knows the spell —, but it isn’t unattainable for the rest of the world. After all, Black Beryl found it in a bottle. Who knows how many more spells are floating around in the oceans of the world, waiting to be found by someone?

The magic is also a big part of the setting’s novelty factor, of course. Flying houses are not common in fantasy stories and they make for something different than the airships which one would suspect in a late-Victorian and thus near-Steampunk setting.
The houses are both more novel and more manoeuvrable than an airship and the idea of just packing up your own house and travelling to a place where you want to be, with no need for a hotel or pension or hours in a train or, in modern times, a car or plane, is certainly interesting.
The other novelty comes from who is choosing the pirate life (and that of a witch to a smaller degree). It’s women who, in our real history and in a regular Gothic novel or Regency romance would have had few options for their lives. Instead of only being the passive damsels who need rescuing, they rescue themselves, with and without the use of magic. The magic has freed those women from the constraints of society and given them a better option.

What can we learn from the use of magic in the “Dangerous Damsels” series? Magic doesn’t always have to be the focus of a story to exist in it. In this series, the magic is part of the novelty factor, allowing for people to fly houses. It’s also a useful tool, as you can levitate everything with it — no matter whether it’s a muffin, a garden shed, or a palace. The magic isn’t a big thing, but it is something people rely on regularly and without thinking much about it. It’s not the most important part of the story, but it plays its part well and makes the story better.