In the end, their discussion failed to produce any effective result.
Magnus offered twelve possible conjectures in all, and not one of them held up. They were either rejected by the Mage, or rejected by themselves as untenable. Yet although the result was so disappointing, Magnus no longer looked like a broken man. He even seemed to have regained a little confidence.
Leman Russ was somewhat dissatisfied with that—the way he bared his teeth was conspicuous among the quietly thinking Primarchs. However, only one person noticed him.
+Still dissatisfied with your brother, Russ?+
Psionic tendrils came without warning, touching a corner of his mind. Russ raised his head and found the Mage behind the iron table idly playing with his fingers. Those little flashes of lightning, created purely for amusement, leaped rapidly between his fingers in brilliant, dazzling colors.
Yes.
Russ admitted it frankly in his heart—I know I'm no better, Captain, but what about him? If not for him, things would never have become this bad.
He's the smartest among us. If you asked, I'd admit that. At the very least, I could never learn so much. But he is also the stupidest among us.
Because he has absolutely no idea when he should stop, and he doesn't understand that everything should have a limit, a boundary. I'll stake my life on it, Captain. If you teach him your Magic Power, sooner or later, his curiosity will destroy us again.
+Ha. You have proposed a very frightening conjecture, Russ, but also a very interesting one. I happen to be free right now, so I have time to discuss this topic with you. Do you want to keep listening?+
Of course.
Leman Russ smiled silently. Why not?
+Then I'm very glad you're willing to listen to me complain.+
Complain? Wait,