That momentary glance at her legs, followed by quick aversion, was not lost to the witch’s attentive eyes. A brief, amused smile crossed her lips as she cocked her head, wondering what drove the man’s actions. Maybe it was part of his strange doctrine of distance; by denying himself the sight, he would not make it needlessly difficult on himself to keep the divide between them “healthy”. He was disciplined, she had to admit, although she knew that already. Were she in his shoes, she thought, she would never have brought herself to look away. One day, she’d understand.

“Can you tell what your energy is doing?” Gerald asked, setting down his cup and bringing up his hands, palms facing one another at a short distance. The gesture was also the moment their shoulders separated and Jillian leaned away from him again to give him some space. At least she wasn’t as cold anymore, and she felt her hair slowly drying off.

“I suppose. I don’t really pay attention to it when I’m not casting a spell.”

Her companion was silent for a good ten seconds, staring intensely at his hands. Jillian assumed he must have been focusing his energy in between his hands and tried to get a feel for it, but the amounts used by him proved too subtle to her senses. Being a necromancer, thus, would allow her to notice even such slight presences of energy, she concluded. Possibly useful.

“Reanimation isn’t the skill you really want to learn as much as a means to an end,” he broke the silence, vaguely explaining how manipulating one’s own energy was different from manipulating outside energy, so being good at one would not necessarily imply skill in the other. Something about Jillian’s furrowed brow and leaning gaze must have tipped him off to her lack of understanding when he sighed and appeared to think of another way to explain himself.

“Let me try again,” the necromancer attempted once more, “When we sense magic, you and I probably sense the same thing, only I know how to interpret it better and analyze it in greater detail.” [i]So far so good[/i], she thought. This much she knew. He went on to stress how she had to understand her own magic first, begin to see patterns in it, before she could do the same for outside sources. She imagined that he could help her see those patterns. Next, he explained, first with his bare hands and then, using his staff, how having a physical, foreign object that you could manipulate would make the effects and flow of her energy that much more obvious and recognizable. The moment he caused his staff to twirl between his palms was the moment it clicked for her, eyes widening momentarily in a sort of Eureka moment.

“Oh, I get it now.” She beamed at him. “It’s uh… still macabre, but I can see your point.” She wondered if one could not manipulate a less grotesque object. Maybe a doll or liquids? Elementals even? As if reading her mind, Gerald was struck by an idea. He proposed using his staff, Omni, instead of dead bodies. It was, after all, an object whose shape was almost entirely up to the wielder. It was also, she knew, a staff that ought to have been in Delian Gilmah’s hands.

“I’d much prefer that, if at all possible. But now that you brought it up…” She grasped the staff with one hand to stop it from moving, then caressed the emerald at its tip with the index from her other hand. “How did you get away with swiping it from Gilmah and her tribunal? Studying necromancy under them and escaping is one thing, but the staff – I can’t imagine she would have just given it to you carelessly. They must be royally cross with you.”