Ron spoke in a quick burst, his words akin to something that had been memorized. Likely it was what he was pondering before about. Regardless, though there was still some vagueness within them, the principal logic did shine through.
All things are symbols, and what is seen normally is simply a false form worn by the symbols. This was somewhat related to what Merrin knew of them. He nodded to the vast man, urging him to continue.
This he did, but not before a moment of deliberation.
"Casters first move adi-symbols. From one to another. They cast-put it into other, to change. Like water placed on earth. Adi of heat enters, makes it hot. This what casters do. At rank Vested, casters do that…mostly. Eyes too. They see the symbols, the true form. "
So those things were symbols? Merrin confirmed his speculations, then passed a gaze. A confirmation that told Ron to persist.
And this he did. "Casters hold power in order. 11 orders, each with power different. I know some—few, true. greyJusticiars, changeWeavers, veilCounsel. This only I know.
He added. "But signCasters not always born to orders—some change with words. Honorific words they say. But forget, as I know, none of it. "
Honorific words? Merrin absorbed the words, reining them into his mind. As Ron had said, it wasn't something he needed to think, it was something to remember—to keep and recall when needed. This he did. However, the term was a bit intriguing, for one, along with the minuscule knowledge he had on casters, he once learned from the shamans that they made pledges. Oaths that bond them to something.
Were these words those pledges?
"9 ranks to the caster—each named. Vested, as before, devoted, blessed, and the last I know. Redeemed. More above them—stronger, more, and stranger might."
His teachings are shattered. Merrin thought idly, realizing he needed to piece the shards of words given by Ron. A toil. Yet, it did not escape him that the man tried the best he could, it was now to be his task to fit them.
So there are 9 ranks in a caster…Merrin somewhat had an inkling of this. The clan people are known to often rank themselves. Nine ranks from the weakest vested to the strongest. Then what is an acolyte?
Ron continued. "Casters yes, hold strength, but knowledge….hmm, power. Symbols strange, meanings differ, and lacking it calls danger to cast."
"Hmm." Merrin edged closer, fettering the hunger that groaned within him.
"Symbols," Ron said, "Are knowledge. To know is control. But some refuse knowledge and force instead. Force…This is power. Power of casting—casters—symbols. I don't know much. What I know, I say." His tone turned a bit solemn.
"It's alright," Merrin offered, realizing he needed to take the reins to better grasp the needed. "Casters use force to cast symbols, right?"
The man nodded.
"And symbols are the true forms of all things, and the knowledge of them makes it easier to cast." The last bit was something he conceived from his own awareness—was it right? Merrin observed the man, noting the simple warm smile over his lips—no sign of rejection to his words.
He begun. "However, they are not the only way, one can force a symbol by simple force. A great amount, I presume." Merrin recalled his attempts at it; in the chasm. There, he had no knowledge of what symbols meant what, all he did was move, regardless of what happened, he moved. In a way, that could be attested as a force of his own. His force that bent the symbols to obey.
That thought brought a swell of elevation in his heart. One, he crushed as quickly as it came. Pride was the enemy! And he was no longer in the position to fall again into it.
"What I don't understand is the orders…What exactly do they mean? Does a certain order mean different symbols? Casting? Method…"
Ron seemed to cringe at the question, his lips twitching at the side. A bizarre sight on a face that wore a gentle glow. He responded nonetheless. "Myth this may be, but past says that one of four kings, Zoroaster, made orders. The reason unknown to me, but this is true that orders vary. Different casting. So maybe, orders grant different symbols. Knowledge of them maybe. veilCounsel known for silence, cold, dreams, night, darkness. Still, they cast normal adi." he said, his face moving slightly.
"changeWeavers known for change. Dangerous change, yes. greyJusticiars said for oath, law, judgement. But, this is known that clans hold order. Noctis holds veilCounsel, odium holds changeWeavers, vileStorm holds greyJusticiars. Casters must be in clan to be in order. That or become with the church."
"So I must join a clan before I can become—" Merrin paused, realizing a mistake. Quickly he gave Ron a look, searching for any suddenness to what he had just said. He revealed nothing; no tremble, no deviation from his smile.
He didn't hear it, or? He thought, maybe he assumed them as ramblings. This he hoped for. What would he think if he, the so-called sunBringer, was just a caster? His devotion would likely be undone.
So would I!
Merrin reformed his words. "One can only join an order by joining a clan. But there are 11 orders and only 8 great clans. Or does the rest belong to the lesser ones." he had heard that outside the great 8, smaller ones with different names yet existed. Maybe this was it.
"No," Ron said simply, "Vassal clans hold order direct to one of the higher clans. One they serve." he paused for a moment, then added. " I believe symbols different in orders. Certain symbols uncastable without honorific words. This might hold truth, but don't trust it."
Merrin nodded, then shifted his gaze to the side of the wall. There, he spotted a black wall bug burrowing out from the rough walls. Six legs it had, a round back, and eyes so small that despite it having eyes, Merrin could not make them out.
He knew the creature would only be here if some eltium was around. Maybe he could find and sell it for the witnesses. He retrieved his mind, giving Ron a stare.
"How can a person understand symbols?" he would have asked on how one could cast, but given the man before him was no caster—despite having white strands, Merrin felt the answer to such a question could only be given by an experienced person.
The giant of man deliberated for a moment. "Some adi hold meaning in the form they bear. Doors for travel, entrance. Chains for bondage, prison. But, some symbols grow stranger, meaning only possible through prying."
I see…Merrin recalled the constant surge of knowledge that flooded his mind when he was casting. Those must be the knowledge he is talking about…
Expectedly Merrin had no feuds with understanding the words, and terms of it all. However, in practice, it became an issue. How was he to practice instinct? Casting called for an awareness of what to do, and though he had some of this awareness, it did not cover all that he needed.
He knew to delve into himself, a state that was similar to what he had learned of the dance of self, but evidently, it always did not yield results. Sometimes he managed to blur the world into gray, sometimes he could not.
It seemed chaotic—a method with no path or structure. How was he to learn that? Or was it not what it seemed? Was there some path he hadn't yet seen?
Merrin lowered his gaze to the bowl—the food, airing a sense of pleasant goodness. So hungry. His stomach growled audibly. Louder than normal that it must have echoed to the slaves outside the room.
There was no starving the hunger. There just wasn't.
He looked up at the giant, his posture akin to a statue frozen in place. He knows me more than the witnesses, Merrin thought. He knows about Leim, and some of my blunders. I doubt he sees me as this sunBringer, or maybe he does, but not as the witnesses do.
I can eat before him.
Merrin pitched his fingers, pressing them into the bowl, the dry bread defiling the force of his hands—nor to break into crumbs. It was an irritating thing, one that Merrin scowled deeply at.
By the almighty, break! He groaned, hardening his strength over the stone bread. Pa! he heard the sound like shattered rock as the bread broke into two halves. Like a slab split by a sword. Still far from being crumbs, yes, yet it was better than before.
It was vanity, but Merrin preferred the food bigger in his eyes. He loved the quantity of it. After that, the bread oddly became easier to break, bending to half the strength he used to split it before.
He felt he should wonder on that, but the hunger raging within could not permit him.