Theorize With Me

Two sets of feet touch down lightly on the worn cobblestone streets of The Tanners, before one crumples further still to the ground. Gasping loudly, Occtis Tachonis clutches his uninjured arm over the vacant space in his chest where once a heart and, for a moment, the Stone of Nightsong, rested. 

Acting on instinct, Sir Julien Davinos squats down, “Occtis? Occtis, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t,” as he speaks, flecks of an unidentifiable black ooze dot his lips, and something begins to leak from the corners of his mouth, “I don’t know.” A shudder wracks Occtis’s form, and he curls further into himself. “Something is burning inside me. I don’t know.” 

Julien throws an arm around the slighter man’s shoulders and pulls him into his side. Relying on the demigauntlet to stop any transference of malicious magic, with absolutely no reason to believe it would prevent anything, Julien pushes Occtis’s own hand away as the soldier attempts to triage his seemingly wounded companion. Occtis inhales sharply as the cool metal of Julien’s gauntlet meets the skin of his chest. Though his senses may be dull, he has never stopped perceiving cold.  

One, two, three, four, five, six . . . and nothing. Off-putting, yet expected. 

No heartbeat, as it has been for the past who-knows-how-many days, as it shall be forever onward. Julien pats the other’s chest in an attempt to bring Occtis back to himself. Whatever is currently unfolding within the innards of the dead man does not alter the fact that they are mere inches outside of Obramis Manor. 

Occtis taps the back of Julien’s demigauntlet, still pressed against his now-clothed chest. “I feel better?” 

Nodding, Julien stands and keeps the demigauntlet offered toward Occtis, who takes it and stands with only minor assistance on the part of the knight. It will never stop surprising Julien just how light and moveable Occtis is. It had taken so little effort on his part, in the crypt below, to hoist the boy onto his shoulders and sprint from the strength-draining abominations the Tachonis play host to. 

Julien squares his shoulders toward the ominous manor towering over them, glances back at Occtis and nods, “Good. We got to go”. The knight turns swiftly on his feet and begins to make his way back toward Halandil’s home in The Rookery. He makes it only a few paces before he notices there are no echoing set of footsteps following him. 

What the fuck is the boy doing? Come the fuck on!

Turning back once more, Julien sees Occtis rooted to the same spot he landed on. The boy’s jaw is hanging open, and he’s looking back up toward the window they just suicidally leapt from. That makes the second time Julien had put his complete faith and, ultimately, his life in the hands of this ghoulish boy. It is not a pattern Julien is excited to continue, nor does he have the emotional bandwidth to understand when his trust was, seemingly, wrenched from his control. Julien sees the boy's lips moving, the only hint that the other has started speaking. 

“Where . . . what is she doing? She didn’t come down,” Occtis breathed out, barely above a whisper. 

Unable to stand being in this heinous place a moment more, Julien clears his throat, “What are you doing?” 

“She didn’t come with us.” 

“Who?” Julien all-but hollered 

  “Thimble!” Occtis hissed. Between the venom in the boy’s voice and the naked panic in his eyes, this was very quickly turning into a fight they did not have time for. 

Stalking back toward his frozen accomplice while fighting the urge to hoist him back over his shoulders and run must have made for an interesting expression on his face, as Occtis’s eyebrows shot up. Keeping his voice down, Julien hissed back, “She’s hard to see. She’s quick!” 

His half-hearted attempt at comfort is batted away quickly. Occtis turns back toward the window, wringing his hands. “She didn’t follow us down!” 

A growl of frustration rips itself from Julien’s throat unbidden. He claps a gauntleted hand on Occtis’s shoulder, spinning him around to face him. Holding up the gem in his other hand and nodding toward the unconscious bird swaddled in the boy’s coat, Julien bites out, “That’s her choice. We have to go now. We have what we need.” 

“I’m not going to leave her,” Occtis states as he pulls his shoulder out of Julien’s grasp. 

Quickly losing the last ounce of patience he has, Julien changes tactics, asking, “What, you want to go back and die as well?”

Occtis doesn’t bite. “If anyone is going to live in there, it’s going to be me. She doesn’t know her way around.” 

Fuck this; we’re not fucking going back. 

“I’m not going to let you walk back into the hands of your family for whatever dire purpose they still have use of you!” Julien realized how possessive the words sounded too late to do anything about them, but Occtis was not listening. 

“Look, take Mara.” Occtis begins shrugging off his coat to wrap around the bird they risked their lives to save. “Bring her back to everybody. I will go get Thimble.” The boy holds the unconscious animal wrapped in heavy black fabric toward Julien. 

Julien grabs the bundle, setting it quickly off to the side on the cobbles. “Mara’s not even my charge! I don’t give a shit about what Thjazi’s friends were!” He jams his finger into his own chest. “I got what I need.” Julien then jams the same finger into Occtis’s chest, the same spot that he had checked for damage only moments ago. “I helped you out.” He then flings his hand toward the window they remain under, nearly shouting, “It’s not my fault that she went back in there to sacrifice herself needlessly!”

“Then why do you need me?” Occtis spins around, feeling small pops in the synovial fluid of his shoulders as he throws his arms out wide, “Why do you care?”

I don’t! 

Julien’s initial thought springs to mind immediately. He does not care about the person standing before him. He has not actively spent the last week and a half focusing on keeping the wizard alive for anything other than thwarting the Tachonis’ plans. He was not highly encouraged to ‘play nice’ by his liege lady, a druid of the Old Path, and an ancient warrior of a long-dead god. He has not kept this fragile dead boy conscious from the Endless Night and back to draw out and execute his horrific family to be accused of caring. Eyes hardening, Julien opens his mouth to respond, only to close it with such force that both men hear his teeth clack together.

Occtis’s arms slowly descend, protectively wrapping around himself. Even in his post-mortem state, there is a twinge of wrong as the skin around his left forearm pulls away from the gash he carved into his own flesh in hopes of saving one of his comrades on this fool-hearty errand. He is unable to hide the way his eyes furrow and the small reflexive exhale his body has not completely forgotten. Occtis curses softly to himself when he notices Julien’s eyes flick between his furrowed brow and gentle hold on his own arm. Julien takes a half-step forward before he is aware, demi-gauntleted hand reaching for . . . what?

Sickly bright green eyes go wide with fear, and Occtis takes two steps back, cradling his injured arm to his chest, turning away partially. Why was Julien coming toward him? Did he mean him harm? Was Julien about to forcibly pick him up again? That moment, draped across the knight’s shoulders, had been humiliating and deeply uncomfortable. The metal holding his chest together was not meant to make contact with his useless organs, and that cold was not a sensation he’d soon forget. Whatever it was, it was not worth staying within an arm's reach of the most temperamental man either had ever known. 

“Then why do you need me?” Occtis spins around, feeling small pops in the synovial fluid of his shoulders as he throws his arms out wide, “Why do you care?”

I don’t care! 

Julien’s initial thought springs to mind immediately. He does not care about the person standing before him. He has not actively spent the last week and a half focusing on keeping the wizard alive for anything other than thwarting the Tachonis’ plans. He was not highly encouraged to ‘play nice’ by his liege lady, a druid of the Old Path, and an ancient warrior of a long-dead god. He has not kept this fragile dead boy conscious from the Endless Night and back to draw out and execute his horrific family to be accused of caring. Eyes hardening, Julien opens his mouth to respond, only to close it with such force that both men hear his teeth clack together.

Occtis’s arms slowly descend, protectively wrapping around himself. Even in his post-mortem state, there is a twinge of wrong as the skin around his left forearm pulls away from the gash he carved into his own flesh in hopes of saving one of his comrades on this fool-hearty errand. He is unable to hide the way his eyes furrow and the small reflexive exhale his body has not completely forgotten. Occtis curses softly to himself when he notices Julien’s eyes flick between his furrowed brow and gentle hold on his own arm. Julien takes a half-step forward before he is aware, demi-gauntleted hand reaching for . . . what?

Sickly bright green eyes go wide with fear, and Occtis takes two steps back, cradling his injured arm to his chest, turning away partially. Why was Julien coming toward him? Did he mean him harm? Was Julien about to forcibly pick him up again? That moment, draped across the knight’s shoulders, had been humiliating and deeply uncomfortable. The metal holding his chest together was not meant to make contact with his useless organs, and that cold was not a sensation he’d soon forget. Whatever it was, it was not worth staying within an arm's reach of the most temperamental man either had ever known. 

Falling back on his planted foot, Julien raises both hands in front of himself, pleading with Occtis to see that he means no harm. Scanning the boy’s face, hoping the look of a cornered prey animal would soon be gone, Julien does not let himself linger on the scratches adorning Occtis’s cheek. Julien does not take in the way the others’ shoulders relax now that he is no longer advancing. It definitely does not feel like he is physically struck with guilt at realizing he put that fear in Occtis. 

I’m thinking this out post episode 30.

There is something going on with sorcerer magics and the spells/schools they have access to. I am aware sorcerers don’t operate the way wizards do - hear me out!

Going based of what Brennan explicitly said, the Tachonis cannot do illusory magic which is why the roped in Demodus. Necromancy means no illusion. Which has me thinking what are the things the other Houses can’t do?

With the Cormoray’s everyone seems to treat them as the best at magic/most magically powerful. Yanessa hides in her religion, Royce in Faerie, Tachonis is the Tenebral Reaches, and Einfasen are soldiers. Cormoray seems to be focused on magic/magic items/expanding their access.

Now, go with me. In DnD 3.5, as a wizard, when you pick a specific school of magic it cut off access to other schools. Brennan is a known fan of DnD 3.5. He’s stated multiple times in interviews and (I think?) some D20 episodes that he loves 3.5 because it had drive mechanics and other odd things like that.

Last step before we put it together. We know Sylandri bargained with the other Shapers to get elves conditional immortality. I bet the other Shapers would have been hella pissed at the idea of Tansul giving his creations access to all magic.

So, in summary my theory: Tansul gave access/denied access to specific schools to his creations in a bargain with the other Shapers to give humans a gift at all. House Cormoray is expanding their knowledge of magic and growing more magically powerful to compete with the other houses.