One would expect that five hundred years of living with the sun would have accustomed you to its presence. This is not true. There is a part of your mind that panics every time the light changes from darkness to light or the other way around. As a result, despite your tiredness, you are awoken at dawn. You sit up from your bed, blinking in the light, and curse the inability of your curtains to keep the sun out of your room. You struggle out of bed and dress. You head to the kitchen, in the faint hope that breakfast will be prepared. Unfortunately, it seems that the late night has impacted everyone, and the housekeepers are still abed.
Preparing and consuming breakfast wakes you up enough to face the day. You head to the study, then pause. You turn about and return to your room. Merrill will need some time to recover this morning. It might be best to leave the study available for her to use, without you. You will be giving her a lesson this afternoon, she deserves some time alone until then. You draw the curtains back from your window and admire the sun filtering through the trees. There is a cloud front moving from the east, it will likely rain sometime tomorrow. An idea snakes its way into your thoughts. 'Anthe would have loved this'.
You have never met someone named Anthe. Yet now that she has been brought to your attention you remember her. Her brown hair and dark eyes that shone with mischief is an image so vivid you can almost see it. It is not one of your memories, that much is clear to you. The images you recall are duller, sounds quieter and everything you see lacks something so normal to the Eldar that it has no name. These are the memories of the spirit you had freed from its imprisonment. Ever since you reunited your soul and body, they have been growing in strength and clarity.
The time has come to examine them in detail, hopefully you can isolate them such that they will not intrude in future. You lower yourself to sit on the ground, crossing your legs as you do so. You close your eyes and focus on your memories. You start with the memory of Anthe, expecting to find connections to other memories. You find none. You know next to nothing of the elf maid in your mind's eye, save her name and the colour of her hair and eyes. Even when you focus you cannot recall the rest of her face.
This proves to be a pattern in the memories you have been granted. The memory of how to wield magic in armour is not vivid, so much as it is mechanical. Likely recalled only because the memories have been repeated so often that they are ingrained into the mind. They are not accompanied by fond recollections of teachers or bitter memories of cruel instructors. There is almost nothing that makes up a person. Just a memory of brown hair and dark eyes and a few glimpses of a parent. Brief flashes of sensation are more common but so lacking in context as to be meaningless.
You are touched once more by compassion for the prisoner you had freed. To have their memories slowly ground down until nothing but wisps remain. It is a fate so cruel that you are surprised Morgoth never thought of it. Perhaps you might be able to restore these memories somehow if the soul itself still remained. As it is you can only identify what is not yours and try to find a use for it.
You are torn on what memories you want to focus on. There is an almost instinctive drive to compare your swordsmanship with the memories. You put this desire aside though, you already know all about the sword that you wish to. A far more tempting prospect is the idea of studying the methods of magic casting from the perspective of one who is trained in them. In addition to potentially improving your ability to manipulate fade energy, it could give you crucial insight into the magic of this world. This is not the option you settle on though.
You had come to these ruins initially to study the Elven language. You had managed to largely sidestep the need to do so by gaining these memories, but that does not change your original intent. Due in no small part to your return to the familiar world of governance, you have left the project untouched for some time. In addition to this personal desire, it feels like a suitable tribute to the fallen elf to resurrect their language for those who still claim descent from their people.
Your decision made, you focus on the subconscious understanding of Elvish. The memories are particularly elusive, due to their nature, but you do not let that deter you. With great care you attempt to write in Elvish. You pay careful attention to the way the spirit's memories shift to provide you with the information you need. When you have isolated what parts of your mind contain the information, it is time to extract the information and make it a part of your conscious awareness.
In a meditative state you follow the line of understanding as you write Elvish in the air. You pull the subconscious movements into your consciousness, linking the words you do not 'know' but can understand with concepts consciously. You pick apart the grammar of both written and spoke variations, through brute force methods or clever deduction as appropriate. The memories do not become a part of you, but you do extract all the information contained therein and make it your own. Finally, you open your eyes and speak.
"I am Third Long Hair, Well Formed, Copper Top." The Elvish versions of your names sound strange, and the words come slowly.
Your understanding of the language is not yet complete, it seems. You are missing vital cultural understanding. An example of this is the saying 'no crying over spilt milk', which is linked to the meaning 'an irreversible action should not be mourned' but the phrase itself means nothing to you. There is also the problem of fluency, you may know the words, but they do not leap to your tongue like your native language. That particular benefit will only come with practice. Despite these drawbacks, you are now likely one of the foremost scholars of the Elven tongue. A thought which is almost funny enough to make you laugh.
Since you have now invested time and effort into unlocking a greater understanding it would be a shame to do nothing else with it. You should undertake another language project with your newfound knowledge. You do not have access to extant elven populations, beyond the Dalish whom you have already studied, but you could visit more ruins to try and understand the culture that accompanies this language. Another option would be to collaborate with the Keepers, who already understand the language, though they are very protective of their knowledge. The final option is to create a new cultural context for the language. This would likely involve creating a grammar compendium and dictionary to spread the language further.
Every option you have considered has merit. You have largely exhausted the keepers' knowledge of the language, but they are still the keepers of the culture. Since they guard that knowledge zealously you doubt it is a particularly viable option, as much as you would like to include them. The second option is to explore the various ruins, or perhaps even the Beyond itself. That option is tempting, playing on your innate curiosity. Then you open your eyes and look out the window. You can see the walls from her, your warriors patrolling with crossbows ready. You see the workers bustling about, tending the fields. You cannot leave them. That leaves only one option, you will simply have to make the language live again.
You spring to your feet and stride from the room. If you are going to teach this language to people a dictionary will be vitally important. You could teach vocabulary without it, obviously, but it would be helpful for those studying to have a physical copy. While you are on the topic you should also compile a compendium of grammar, it is the part of the language least understood. Then you can use them to teach large groups, or even have them teach each other. You do need to do fewer things personally.
The first thing you do is find something to write on. Merrill has plenty of paper, you are not sure where she keeps getting it, but you will borrow some. You make a mental note to get her some more to make up for doing so. You do not have anything durable to bind the book to, so it is going to be a fragile construction, but getting it written is more important for now. You are grateful that Merrill left most of her notes in the study, you do not want to intrude on her just yet. You enter the study, seeing that the housekeepers have awoken and righted the room as much as they can, and grab the paper. You sit down at the desk and begin writing.
You make steady progress on the dictionary. You do not write down every word you now know, just the common ones. There are tens of thousands of words in the language in your head, you write down maybe a few thousand. You also take the time to write out the 'Language of the People's' script. It is no Tengwar, but it does have significant differences to the blocky script of Thedaslta. You write a comparative alphabet and spill a river of ink describing the rules of how sentences are formed, so familiar to you yet so alien to those used to spaces between words.
The grammar book is a challenge. You know the grammar largely through instinct, with many of your explanations for why a rule exists being 'because it does'. You struggle with your own understanding and manage to get all the rules down. They are not all particularly well justified, but what languages have neat rules that all make sense? Dead ones. You close the second book and look out a nearby window to see that the sun is rapidly approaching noon. If you want to speak to your companions at lunch, you will need to leave now.
You share lunch with everyone who lives in Endataurëo. It is a wonderful atmosphere that always makes you smile to witness. The main dining hall is a work of beauty. The large windows are stained glass, showing scenes from the murals that once filled the ruin. You, as the host, naturally sit at the head of the long table that dominates the room. Where everyone else sits seems to be largely decided by chance, and you sit next to your students as often as you do to your workers. Many a time laughter has rang through this hall, in the short span it has existed. In truth, if you had a bard to sing during mealtime, you could close your eyes and imagine you dwelt in Aman still.
Such things are not what you are here to dwell on. You arrived early and waited by the door to direct where people are going to sit. Mostly you just want to gather your companions together so that you may speak with them. As a result, you, Ranger, Xandar and Merrill end up sitting in the centre of the table two on each side. The chairs on either side of you are empty, as is the chair at the head of the table oddly. You had assumed that someone would have sat in it, if only to make jokes. It is none of your concern and, as the housekeepers finally take their places after serving the food, you turn the lunch conversation to the topic you wish to address.
"I am doing too many things." You begin.
"Ya don't say." Ranger snarks at you, to general amusement.
You roll your eyes. "Yes, I have heard it all before. Nelyo you work too much. Nelyo you need to relax. Nelyo why are you always busy. However, in a stark contrast to previous conversations on the matter, those involved are not the cause of most of my work. This leaves me with the unique opportunity of potentially delegating the work to others. I wish to investigate the possibility that you four would be willing take on some tasks on my behalf."
There is a long moment of silence. Then Merrill speaks up.
"Are you… Are you asking for help?" She sounds faintly disbelieving.
"I am asking if you are willing to undertake tasks on my behalf." You reply.
Ranger bursts out laughing. "Ya are! Ya're askin' for help, cause ya've got too many things to do."
Xandar makes a strange gesture with his fist clenched. "I am ready to help you, oh wise one! Tell me what you need!"
Merrill is clearly trying, and failing, to hold in her own laughter. "Of course! I'm also more than happy to help. What do you need us to do?"
You permit them their laughter. You are above such petty matters.
"I am glad that you find this all so amusing." You say flatly. "The real question is how much time you will all have to delegate to the tasks I require of you. You do all have your own responsibilities."
Merrill gets her laughter under control but hesitates before speaking.
Xandar takes the chance to interject. "I will drop everything to ensure that your will is done!"
"That is very much what I do not want." You scold him. "Learning magic is an important task."
"Doesn't take up his whole day though." Ranger says, leaning back. "Truth be told, I'm in a similar spot. Some days I'm flat out, but others I've got nothing much to do. Forestry's either all hands on deck or jack squat to do."
"Ah. Ah. I am… I'm also free." Merrill stutters out. "I only really need to teach Xandar and learn from you. So, I can do something, right?"
You search the faces of each of your companions. Xandar, earnest and eager. Ranger, lackadaisical and careless. Merrill, blushing fiercely and not meeting your eyes.
"Are you sure you are free Merrill? Teaching can easily be a full time job." You inquire, wanting to be certain.
Merrill's head blurs as she nods it up and down. "Yes! I can find time. It's mostly stuff I could recite in my sleep."
As she glances briefly at you, before looking away again, you nod to indicate that you believe her.
"Very well, then the only thing we need to decide is how we are going to divide our weekly activities." You proclaim.
"I want to go with you, oh wise teacher." Xandar practically leaps out of his chair, fists clenched before his chest and eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
"I do not understand what you mean, Xandar." You tell your student. "Also, sit down. Your enthusiasm is appreciated but perhaps unnecessary at this juncture."
"I dunno, he kind of has a point." Ranger muses, stroking his growing beard. "If we all go around with ya, we might be able to help ya with what ya're doin'."
Merrill does not speak but does nod in her support of the idea.
You sigh, it is a well-meaning idea, but you will have to tear it down. "I appreciate that you want to help, but I doubt it would be as much help as you think."
"What do ya mean?" Ranger asks.
"We do not share the same pool of skills." You say, as diplomatically as you can. "I am a war leader, skilled in battle and in the administration of large groups. Ranger is a master scout and hunter, Xandar is training to be a healer and Merrill is a skilled mage and lore keeper. Anything I can do, you cannot help with, and anything you can do will hardly benefit from my presence."
"What about things that need several steps though?" Merrill interjects, continuing to avoid your eyeline.
You pause, considering her words. "A certain amount of collaboration is desirable, that is true."
"So the answer's obvious then." Ranger comments.
This gets the entire group's attention.
"Then what is the answer?" You ask.
"Well, ya've got things ya want done yeah?" Ranger begins.
"Obviously." You reply.
"Ya want our help with it, but there's stuff only ya can do?" He continues.
"Ranger, if you do not get to the point, I am going to say some very unkind things to you." You say flatly.
"Right. Sorry. I just think if ya tell us what ya want done each week, we can then say if we've got time to do it. We can then collaborate if we have the need." He explains.
You and your companions consider the suggestion. It seems to be the best solution available. You are less than enthused that you might end up needing to put more work into some tasks, but it does allow you to put some projects onto your companions. Another advantage is that it will allow you to have tasks that you cannot do yourself. The reception among the others seems to be largely positive as well.
"If it is agreeable to all of you, then yes. That is what we will do." You decide.
"Yes! I am excited to help you with whatever you need, oh wise teacher!" Xandar says, with his usual enthusiasm.
"I'll do what I can." Merrill says, quietly.
"Heh. No need to thank me, kid." Ranger smirks, running his hand through his hair
"Thank you all. I appreciate that you are willing to do this for me. I understand that you are all busy with your own affairs." You tell them all.
"It's no trouble!" Merrill bursts out, her shyness temporarily overcome it seems. "You've always done things for us, and you never ask for anything in return! It would be weird if we weren't willing to help. We all care for you… I mean. I do… Um. Ah. Sorry, I didn't mean…" Her voice suddenly trails off and her gaze flees from your face.
The awkwardness is broken by a bark of laughter from Ranger. "Ya heard the lady. We're ya friends ya moron. We all care about ya, it'd be weird if we didn't help."
"I am honoured to be counted among your friends, oh enlightened one." Xandar supplies.
"Enlightened one is also banned." You reply reflexively.
You pause, looking over at the group, feeling the phantom weight of the necklace of rings from the Beyond.
With a sigh you reply. "I suppose we are all friends here, among other things. Now, as I think everyone else is leaving, we should figure out what you will be doing this week."
Merrill's expression is, if anything, even more conflicted after your response.
"I could take the guards out for some scoutin' practice." Ranger offers.
"I would rather not for now. They are still familiarising themselves with their new weapons." You tell the gruff human. "In truth, I would like some kind of defence against demons."
Merrill shakes her head. "If such a thing were possible everyone would use one."
"It is possible." You reply.
"You can't know that. It might work in your world, but this is our problem. Demons have been around forever, and no one has come up with a solution!" Merrill does not yell, but her voice grows louder.
"Someone did. It is called the Veil." You point out, calmly.
"I thought the Veil was made by the Maker?" Xandar says
You shake your head immediately. "I would recognise the One's work immediately. The Veil is not His."
"That's a pretty bold claim, kid. What makes ya so sure?" Ranger sounds sceptical.
"If it were the One's work, it would appear natural. Since the Veil looked constructed, I can conclude the One did not make it." Your words make the entire table fall silent. "What is the matter? Was it something I said?" You ask them.
"Damn, that makes so much sense. I never even thought of that." Ranger says, staring into the distance.
Xandar looks at you with burning passion in his gaze. "Amazing! Your wisdom constantly leaves me speechless! Of course anything the Maker would create would appear natural!"
Merrill is still looking doubtful, staring at the remnants of her meal. "Even if you're right, what makes you think we can do what others have always failed to do?"
You wish you could look her in the eye, but you make do with a sincere tone. "Because the mages of this land are all trained by the same people. Whether the Tevinters or the Circle, there is very little deviation in ways of thought or study. You yourself admitted that those who are untrained often develop unusual abilities. You are being taught Eldar magic, and Xandar was never taught at all. If anyone has a distinct enough perspective to manage it is the two of you."
Your words cause Merrill shoulders to straighten, and while she continues to avoid looking at you, she nods. "Alright. Yes, I'll do it."
Xandar also agrees. Loudly.
Your conversation with your, you are grudgingly willing to admit, friends ends up taking far longer than lunch does. When you all break up to go your separate ways the hall is empty save for the four of you. While the others file out, you intercept Merrill.
"A moment Merrill." You say to your student.
"Oh!" She starts when you stop her. "Ah. Um. What can I do for you?"
"Are you busy right now?" You ask.
She shakes her head. "No. Lesson time?"
You nod. "Lesson time."
"Alright. Uh. I need to get some things, paper and stuff. Can I meet you at the, uh." Merrill glances away, her voice dying at the last moment.
"In the study?" You prompt.
"Yes, the study." She nods, and slips past you, still not looking at you.
"This is going to become a problem, I just know it." You tell the empty air.
Fortunately for everyone involved, you had the perfect icebreaker to deal with the awkwardness Merrill is experiencing.
"I'm here!" She bursts in, arms filled with paper and writing materials. "I'm not late!"
"We never agreed to a starting time Merrill, it is literally impossible for you to be late." You tell your nervous student.
She places her writing materials on a desk, then swings it to face you. "Uh. Well, I still don't want to keep you waiting."
You shrug. "After last week I intend to do nothing that requires leaving Endataurëo. I do need to visit Gladesville but other than that I have nowhere to be."
Merrill takes several minutes of panicked flailing before she is finally settled enough to begin. You extend your book to her.
"Here. I finished it last week, thank you again for all your help. I could not have done it without you." You say.
"Huh? Oh, you really wrote it." Merrill takes the book and begins to flip through it. "It's really well done. You can barely tell you're an amateur."
"Merrill, if you do not like the book there are better ways to express it than veiled insults." You jest.
"What?" Merrill suddenly looks up at you. "No! I didn't mean it like that! I would never. I mean I haven't even."
As her words begin to speed up, and her arms being to flail about, you rush to reassure her. "It is fine. It was just a joke. I know you meant nothing by it. Besides, it is true. I am an amateur."
Once the near disaster of that joke is out of the way, Merrill settles down to read the book. She is clearly touched by the dedication page, and largely skims through the rest of it. You suppose she would already know most of it. You can tell when she reaches the end section by her frown and chewed lip.
"It's interesting to see an outside perspective, but I don't think you're going to be very popular with the others." She closes the book with a snap. "That end bit is going to get most of them up in arms alone. Even after hearing your explanation, I still find it pretty insulting."
She looks up at you and her critique comes to a sudden stop. "I mean. I know you don't mean it that way. I don't want you to think that. Oh, I'm sorry. I'm not really insulted."
You interrupt her before she can spiral any further. "It is fine Merrill. I am not easily insulted, and I understand that you might find my theory offensive. I am hardly going to take too much offense at criticism levelled in good faith. Please, continue."
Merrill manages to get out a few other comments. She is certain that the book will be unpopular with the Dalish, especially those who do not know you. This has less to do with the content, though there are sections like the ending that are part of the problem, and more to do with its existence.
"Thank you Merrill." You say. "Shall we begin?"
"Oh, right." Merrill practically throws your book back to you. "What are we doing today? Songs of power, right?"
"In truth, I intend to let you dictate the content of this lesson. What do you want to know?" You inform your student.
"Oh, ok. Um. I though you had a lecture prepared?" Merrill asks, hesitently.
"That was a joke, Merrill. You should not experiment without supervision, true, but that is the extent of my critique of what you did." You answer her question.
"Oh! That's good then." Merrill brightens up somewhat. "Uh, let me go through my notes for a minute."
There are several minutes filled with nothing but the sound of rustling papers. You watch Merrill search her notes, waiting for her first question.
"Ok I've got it. So, What did I do wrong?" She looks up from her papers, eyes burning with curiosity.
"You attempted to wield a song of power without understanding what they are. We will go into more detail about said songs later." You reply.
Merrill opens her mouth, then pauses for a moment before asking her question. "I meant specifically. What part of it didn't work."
You pinch the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes. "I would need to know all the details of what you tried to do."
Merrill draws a breath, prepared to explain but you interrupt her. "We will cover songs of power after we are finished with this topic. Your other questions first, please."
Merrill is clearly reluctant to move on but does so anyway. "Ok. So, your soul. How does that work?"
"As most souls do I assume. If you want a better answer you will need to be more specific." You answer.
Merrill's face goes red very quickly. "Uh. Oh. Sorry. Let me just." A short span of time later she continues. "What is it about your soul that enables its use in magic safely?"
You have to take some time to think about this question. It is a question that was never really asked in Aman, there was no need. It was only after contact with humans that it became a concern, and there were other more important things to do at the time.
The answer you eventually settle on is, "Fundamentally it is because my soul does not call any other realm home."
You can tell Merrill is confused, so you elaborate. "Human souls are called beyond the spheres of the world. Elf souls seem to reside in the Beyond. My soul is a part of this world, and no other. Much as your soul allows you to shape the Beyond, as that is where it is from, so too does mine in this world."
Merrill stares at you for a long moment. Then she clearly reaches some kind of resolution.
Whatever she has decided is put on hold for now, instead she asks. "Are you sure? That sounds… wrong."
You shrug. "In truth, no. I only have a theory. It is simply something I have always been able to do. How do your muscles work?"
"Oh I see." Merrill makes a few notes.
After she is finished there is a tense pause. Merrill is clearly working herself up to something, and you are worried about what it might be. Finally, she deflates. Whatever she was working herself up to, she clearly is not confident enough to ask the question.
"What was that you used to get rid of the Demon? You mentioned a bunch of names." She asks instead.
"It was an adapted spell, designed to banish houseless. The names are those of the Ainur." You inform her.
Your response causes Merrill to inquire further, "What's a houseless? Also, I thought the Ainur were spirits, but you called out to them like gods."
"Houseless are those of my people whose spirits persist after death. They will often try to possess a new body, much like the demons of this land. They are and I did. It is hardly my fault that prayer and invoking the powers of the Valar are similar." You tell her.
"Valar?" Merrill asks.
"The most powerful of the Ainur." You reply.
Merrill scribbles out her notes, and once more she seems to attempt to work herself up to something. You wait patiently, but no question comes. Eventually, Merrill slumps down once more.
"I'm done, no further questions." Her voice sounds defeated.
"Are you certain?" You clarify, it is clear she does have one after all.
"Yes. Let's get to that lesson now." She says.
You shrug. "Very well."
You then begin the lesson you had planned.
You want to take Merrill through a practical example. She has been making speculations based on the theory you have already taught her. Going through more theory seems like a poor idea. You begin constructing a simple song in your head, designed to touch on all the principles she will need to know, when you have an idea. She has already made an attempt at this art, and it failed. Why not have her relay to you exactly what she did, so that you can go through it and explain what she got wrong.
"Let us begin with the events of last night." You start.
"I thought you weren't going to lecture me about safety." Merrill says, trying to sound humorous but failing.
"I am not. However, if I wish to teach you properly, I must first understand what you do and do not understand right now. So, tell me. What did you do last night?" You reassure your student.
"Oh. Ok. I lost my notes in the explosion so I might make a mistake though." Merrill replies, comforted but still nervous.
"It is best to use your memory alone anyway. It will reveal your knowledge more fully." You tell her.
Merrill nods a few times. After gathering her thoughts, she begins.
"So, I based most of what I tried on what I saw you do, you know before you collapsed." You gesture for her to continue; you remember the only time you have demonstrated a song of power to her.
"Right. I wasn't really sure how they were supposed to work, so I started with what I already knew. You mentioned that it tapped into the power of creation. When I thought about it I realised that if innate power came from within and knowledge was inherent to what you are doing, then songs of power have to come from outside you. So I built the song like a spell. I used mostly the tune you did, and I tried to keep the words to Elvish. They're mostly pretty descriptive, since I'm not much one for poetry. Then I put fade energy into it and I exploded."
Merrill falls silent, waiting for your response.
You sigh and run your hand down your face. It is an effort of will not to scold your student. "Almost none of that is correct. Firstly, you need to change the tune to fit what you are doing. A song of creation is a complex multi-part harmony for example. Secondly, the a song of creation is less a spell and more an art. You do not so much create a set of instructions as you paint a picture, then the song convinces the world the song is real. Elvish makes sense on paper, but since you are missing so much of the vocabulary and grammar it probably hurt more than it helped."
You pause as Merrill scribbles down your words. You want your next point to have her full attention.
When she has finished, you take a deep breath to keep calm and then speak. "The worst mistake you made was attempting to use fade energy in the song. Fade energy is fundamentally a force of change. It can take many shapes but it does not like to maintain them for long. Songs of power are all about stability, and frankly I have no idea where their energy comes from. Inside us? All around us? Channelled directly from the divine? I have heard convincing arguments for each of these theories. The most obvious sign that you were on the wrong track would have occurred to you if you really thought about it. We do not have fade energy where I come from. Using fade energy is likely what drew the demon to you in your weakened state."
Merrill looks ashamed, glancing away as her face becomes the colour of her blood. "Yes, I suppose it was a bit silly of me. I should have given it more thought, not rushed in."
"Assumptions are as dangerous as demons when it comes to magic. Something I have failed to impress upon you is that the three categories of magic are not separate. They are deeply entwined, each supporting the other." You tell her, striving to be stern yet still gently.
Merrill, to your surprise, suddenly perks up at your words. She begins to flip through her notes, making amendments as she goes.
"Oh! That changes everything. If they're more like schools of magic then traditions and they interact then the more you know about innate power the more you can use it. Innate power is somehow linked to songs of power since you mentioned they are both exhausting, so training that makes one makes the other stronger and…"
Merrill suddenly stops, looking at you for longer than she has managed so far today. "That's it. That's why you know so much. Everything you study becomes better, and you can use your power on it. That trains it further, which lets you wield more powerful songs. Then your knowledge makes the songs more precise. It's the first lesson again. Everything is connected."
You chuckle, "And it only took you a few months to figure that out. What marvellous creatures are the descendants of the Atani."
Merrill loses her focus on you, glancing away with her blush returning. "I'd have gotten it faster if you just explained it to me."
You shake your head. "If I had you would not have understood the lesson."