Assallya could have done so much with her own illusions. Then the display became ever more increasingly complex. So many elements dancing, too many of them seemingly random. She could never weave something of such complexity. It was exceedingly impressive. His ability to conjure magic was so adept that Assallya feared to open her senses to the weave lest they be burned from her very skull. What she could do with such power, to pull at the very walls, hollow out space within greater spaces, to conjure food and drink that provided sustenance- She could rule a country at the very least, carve out even a place amongst the gods. Which drew out another question, what then was the source of his power? Magicians theorized that gods gained their vast reserves of power from their followers. Such talk was heresy, of course, but magicians had something of a reputation for upsetting the theocracy.

"Ostentatious," Assallya observed, fluttering a small lace fan at her neck while dwelling upon how she might steal away his power for herself, "You are quite adept."