There is no magic when one no longer believes.

I think hawking is the nearest thing to flying in this world. There you sit high up and poised light as air, the horse swift beneath you. You unhood your bird, let the jesses go and watch your falcon, its bells a-jingle, like some wild spirit take the air... and your own spirit goes with it.

Magic doesn't happen often - not once in a blue moon ... I expect there isn't another magic ship like this one in the whole world.