Kalin smiled at the unexpected display of wizardry. Though in truth, she reasoned to herself, this man's great age should have been a clue to some affinity with the arcane arts.
"I mean no disrespect, Isnar. In Cyrodiil we are raised to honor our elders." She inclined her head in a brief but respectful bow as she once again strained to place the massive tome on the bar. "As I said, my grasp of Illusion is almost purely academic. Though I have great respect for it as a school of magic, my curriculum, as it were, focuses heavily on the arts of destruction, alteration and conjuration. I take a minor course in restoration and have an excellent grasp of wards. In time, The Eight willing, I will have the leisure to pursue Illusion in earnest. Unfortunately for now it is the stuff of idle hours and light reading". She smiled politely at the elder, reaching for her mug of cider now grown bone cold.