Seidaku was more than willing to let the topic drop, as uncomfortable with giving praise as Wrenmae was receiving it. Instead, he tilted his head to better watch his student work. Really, there was not a wrong way to draw the Glyphs, he had determined. It was ultimately a matter of efficiency. Any manner of drawings, etchings, or carvings, sufficiently charged with intent by the worker, would modify the flow of Djed in an area. How much depended on the focus and determination of the worker, which meant that each Glyphist would naturally drift toward symbols that suited them best.
As Wrenmae was already doing. Despite his protestations to the contrary, the boy was gifted. Seidaku knew that even now, years later, his Glyphs still bore remnants of the way that Vauthor had taught him.
He watched as the point of nothingness swirled once more into existence. The perfect, beautiful darkness formed a gently rotating circle of darkness that hovered silently in the air while the paper and ink below it dried, crisped, and finally crumbled to dust and ash. Without the assistance in feeding Djed into the portal, Wrenmae let it slide closed and sat back.
"Thank you, Seidaku," Wrenmae said, dusting bits of burned paper from his clothes, "Can we meet again sometime? I...have some more manipulations of Djed to show you."
"Oh, umm, certainly," Seidaku said, realizing belatedly that the interior of his home was beginning to grow dark. Then the import of what Wrenmae had said sank in. He was offering to elaborate on what he had shown earlier, when his flesh had rippled and flowed into a new form. With a wide smile, he said, "Certainly. I, ah, look forward to it."