"I'd learn just to let you do all my reading for me," he answered even as he tried to tilt his head to see the pages that awaited them. "And my writing as well. It would save time, I think."

Only, it was perhaps too late for that. Even if he read poorly, he could in fact read. It was no longer a skill he was acquiring, but one he was honing into something practical. That was perhaps the most tiresome aspect of it, because it was not simply enough to know how to do something, but he had to work at it. It felt so much slower and clumsier than learning something by hand.