"Perhaps," he states, "But we could have spoken since Ferrum, if I had known about your skill. Laelaer is a dear friend, and a talented magician in her own right, but she is..." he quirks his head in her direction before whispering: "...volatile, and quick to emotion. To have another scholar along is a blessing." He grins, and his eyes light up. "That would be phenomenal," states the elf, regarding the scrolls. "My education at Shadeveil was cut prematurely short, due to... extenuating circumstances, and I hunger for knowledge like a wolf for fresh meat." He moistens his lips with the tip of a nervous tongue. "I have always suspected that the arcane and divine magics aren't as different as some people say - it's all just the careful manipulation of mystic energies, directed by a conscious will, towards a desired outcome. Of course, your energy comes from the divine, a patron god, whereas mine is drawn from..." he pauses, thinking, and then shrugs. "Who knows? It was going to be my doctoral thesis, but fate, that conniving weasel, intervened. I have theories, but nothing yet substantiated by evidence." He looks, again, to Laelaer. "You made her glasses? Are you sure?" He chuckles. "I've long admired them; the metalwork is so fine, that glass so smooth... and the shading! However did you tint the glass so uniformly? I've never seen such a thing. You must be a master of your craft."