"You can sing? That's great. Sing for me. Anything." 

In truth, Catherine didn't need the mood lighting. Or the singing. A simple light spell or two would probably have done the trick. No, she needed his help with the actual spell, and she had been taught that crossdressing men with unnecessarily large sticks are usually wizards. Usually. That was the key-word here. Usually. Her finely-tuned wizard-finding instincts fell flat this time, but damned if she couldn't put him to use.

Regardless of whether or not he did the stupid spinning thing she requested, mostly because it was not actually necessary, she sets the goblet down and crouches beside it. With a quick gesture and a whispered word, the golden candlelight flickered, waxed silver, then sickly green. The light grew darker, bent, congealed, oozing into the cup with an alien grace.

She shivers, exhaling slowly. The candles die down, and the chalice trembles. Once. Twice.

And then it turns into a large, mottled goose.

Catherine presses both palms to her face and sighs, even as the goose honks, flaps its wings, waddles onto her cot, and takes a seat. She takes a few steps back and flops almost bonelessly onto her fancy chair, shaking her head. "Ugh."