Briefly engaging as the skirmish with Benedict was, Myr isn't so foolish as to have forgotten he's got two opponents on this particular battlefield. So when Atticus re-engages with the deftness of a master swordsman, Myr's quick to return his attention to the older man. His full attention, because they're good questions and require nothing less than his full consideration.

"I've long believed," he finally says, voice quiet but convinced all the same, "that it's the height of sin to quench such a flame that threatened no one. Magic is a gift from the Maker to His creations; destroying His gifts out of fear or selfishness is as bad as perverting them."

Without knowing it, he follows Atticus' gesture, face briefly turned back toward the templar on guard duty. If the woman's aware of the part she's playing in this philosophical discussion, she gives no sign of it--nor that she's even really listening.

"The templars of my Circle were good men and women, magister. I trusted them to be so--to know that magic was meant to serve the mages gifted with it as much as anyone else."

There's much more he could say--much of it equivocation, doubts given voice--but he cuts himself short. No sense overextending in an argument with a hostile opponent, any more than there would be in pitched battle.