14. Exegesis

.o0o.

Jowan paused to flex his hand. "Did I mention I might have found a better way to get through some of those long passages?"

"No, I don't believe so." Sabhya looked up from the tome he was browsing. "Please, tell me."

"It seems to help if I copy things out vertically, just a few words each line, kind of like a poem. I don't know why, but I can remember it that way without getting it all twisted up."

"That's wonderful." Sabhya considered a moment. "And really clever. I'd never have thought of that." He smiled at the younger man.

"Mm. It takes bloody forever, though." Jowan sighed, inking his reed pen and resuming his careful inscription. "Of course that's assuming I copy it right to begin with." He put the pen aside to examine his work, and then angled the parchment toward Sabhya. "How does this look?"

"Good." Sabhya skimmed the line of runes. "Ah, wait. Here, the limitation is backwards."

"Damn."

"Try thinking of it as though it were reaching toward the rest of the measure. The branches are the arms, and the small fork is anchoring it on the other side so it won't tip over."

Jowan chewed his lip, frowning, and took up the pen again.

Four increasingly frustrated attempts later, the last of which continued to see not only the original rune reversed but several surrounding as well, he dug his fingers through his hair and threw the pen down.

"Agh! I'm so tired of being so stupid!"

"Jowan." Sabhya caught the reed before it fell off the table and tucked it in the holder with the others. "You are not stupid. Far from it."

"Yes, well, of course you have to say that."

"I say it because it's the truth."

Jowan shook his head and dropped back in his chair to stare gloomily at the ceiling.

"You've already got an instinctive grasp of the advanced Healing spells." Sabhya began, indicating the books on the table.

"When I can make them work."

"When you can make them work," Sabhya agreed. "Which is more than I can do. All I can do is read about the theory. Listen, brother, it's more than that. You've told me how the words and letters jumble up in your mind, and I can see the disconnect manifest. I can't even begin to fathom how difficult it is for you; it must be like having to relearn everything in a random language no one else knows on a daily basis. But in spite of that, you do it. Jowan, the truth is: you're brilliant. Yes, you are." This in response to a derisive snort. "You're in the position of the only man in a crowd who has to carry his own weight in stones. It takes all his strength to keep up with the extra burden, but if he didn't have to spend all his energy doing so, just imagine how far he'd outstrip everyone else."

Setting his elbows back on the table with a thump, Jowan glared.

"Oh, fine. I'm so gifted it takes everything I can do not to be a complete failure. How is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"No, that's not what I—" Sabhya broke off, distressed. "I'm sorry, Jowan."

The other looked down. "I—no. Me, too." He fiddled with the edge of the parchment a moment, then looked sidelong at the smaller man. "Actually, it does rather. Seem better. A little."

Sabhya smiled and touched Jowan's arm, accepting the peace offering.

Taking a deep breath, Jowan retrieved his pen.

"So. This is me being brilliant for another hour or two. Huzzah."

Sabhya chuckled. "Go, team." Jowan shot him a wry look and bent to his writing.

For a time their only sounds against the library's background murmur were the occasional rustle of pages and the periodic clink-tic-tic as Jowan recharged his pen. Eventually, becoming aware of a lack of movement beside him, Jowan glanced up to see Sabhya gazing abstractedly over an open book, lost in thought.

"I know that look."

Sabhya nodded vaguely, and Jowan nudged him.

"Hey. Come back. What's got you so preoccupied?"

"Just an intriguing chain of thought. I—hm." Sabhya pulled a reed pen from the holder and toyed with it a moment, then propped it against the stack of books at a very particular angle. Jowan leaned back to stretch, rolling his head in a joint-popping circle while lazily viewing the room. When he finished, he picked up the pen and replaced it in the same position, their private "All Clear" signal.

"In fact, I was considering the nature of Blood Magic."

"Guh? Maker's Breath, what are you reading?" Jowan tugged the book over. "Master Healer Satakieli's Compiled Treatises on Critical Wound Management." There was a longish pause. "All right," he said slowly. "I suppose I can see the connection, or at least what got you thinking along those lines. She does get pretty graphic."

"Satakieli's not for weak stomachs," Sabhya agreed.

"So?"

"So." Thoughtfully, Sabhya brushed his fingertips over the pages. "Healing spells slow and stop bleeding, knit torn flesh. They can strengthen and regulate a heartbeat. They can cause blood to flow where it's needed, break up harmful clots, cool fevers. Isn't that technically a sort of Blood Magic? Satakieli even discusses a means of warming the blood to treat frostbite, and histories report that one of the Magisters' favorite tricks was to boil victims' blood in their veins."

He nodded in agreement with Jowan's grimace of distaste, and added, "From that perspective, it's almost as if Blood Magic is an offshoot of Healing."

"An evil malevolent sort of offshoot," Jowan said dryly.

"The fact that the Chantry uses our blood to control us would seem to bear that out," Sabhya responded, equally dry. He sobered. "But it makes one think about how much of the corruption lies solely within the user. A person needn't be a Blood Mage, or a spell user, or have any power at all in order to be monstrous. And face it; there are dark sides to most of the Schools. Look at Entropy – many of those spells are downright horrific, but would anyone say Nereinye is a Creature of Evil?"

Jowan arched an eyebrow and grinned. "That depends on whether you're asking the Target of the Week."

"True." Sabhya chuckled. "But you see my point. It just seems that the will and inten—"

Jowan picked up the reed pen, dipped it in the ink and began scribing a new rune with his usual care.

"—ded message within Frackington-fitzFforthwright's work is that the perceived quality of corporeal nature may not actually be quantifiable, let alone perceptibly qualitative." Sabhya continued smoothly as the templar strolled past them. "Truly a fascinating perspective on the deep-seated nature of the depths of the quality of nature."

"Indubitably."

"Indeed."

"I'm done here." Jowan sprinkled sand over the parchment and tapped off the excess. "Anyway, it's about time to eat. Come with?"

"Certainly." The two stood, and Jowan paused.

"Thanks. I mean, for—thanks."

Sabhya met his eyes. "Always, brother."

Jowan drew himself up and peered down his nose. "I always look up to you, big brother."

Sabhya glared at the taller man's sternum. "See that you do," he said severely.

Laughing, the two headed for the door.

"Eff-fitzEff? Seriously?"

"You have to admit he's memorable."

"In a brain-numbing way."

The templar yawned behind them and propped himself against a convenient book stack.

.o0o.