Handy? Well, he was still nowhere near controlling magic just yet, as evidenced by Crimson tossing a stone at him every half hour and the curses he spat in pain each time. He couldn’t help it—there was something about magic that when you concentrated on it, really concentrated on it, you could not help but lose yourself in it. You lost track of time and your thoughts, your very self. Hell, if Crimson had not been there hitting him with stones, he wou—