He had a brief mental sketch of what he supposed had made up the largest portion of the mages, before the war: bookish, pale from lack of sunlight, greatest wound a paper cut. But Isaac isn't dead, so that particular assessment should be revised to be more flattering.

"What was your focus in the Circles?"

He stands, an unfolding of long limbs, moves to the shelves along the side of the room, does not expect him to follow.