"Tell me again how the Lady guides us?" Briana asked, a doubtful note in her voice. Only nine seasons old, the blonde elf was still somewhat fearful of her calling, Rosmarin noted. Perhaps a reiteration of that teaching would be good now; the sinking sun and rising moon invited reflection, she mused.

The old shaman settled closer to the fire, wrapping her grey robes around her as she sat cross-legged on a heavily embroidered carpet. She gestured Briana to the spot across the fire from hers, and waited until the child sat with that peculiarly boneless grace that belongs only to the young. Rosmarin closed her eyes and summoned the ancient words passed from shaman to shaman among the Khamsin elves.

"I speak now the words sent by She of the Winds, the Lady whose Voice Calls the Power. Thus were they spoken by the first Shaman, Kieran an_Cridhe, when She first guided him to the Wastes of K_ham_Shin.

""In thee I shall raise a power and a skill that thou will be able to take thy own energy, the power that is in thee life, and weave it into other forces, different shapes. I shall give thee the ability to know of this power, which is called Magic, that you will be able to find it in and on others, that you may determine its form, and that you may remove its influence. You will have access to many aspects of it, for it is tied to all life, and it has great power to destroy and to protect."

"And that you will not abuse this power, there must be no burden upon thy body when the weaving is done, and you must use only this power to protect yourself, yet you will not be able to repair any damage that you do with this power. And you shall use this power to aid my people.""

"Thus did mage-lore come to the tribes, for only then did She open our eyes to the power of Magic and begin to teach us the many forms it may take."

"Briana looked thoughtful. "But how are shamans different from the clerics. She guides them as well, does she not?"

Rosmarin nodded. "Yes, both She and the Earth-lord have their chosen, but the manner of choosing is different. When She chooses a cleric, She gives them part of her power, for they have none of their own. They can do many things that we cannot, for we are not the Hands of the Gods; clerics may heal, both themselves and others, and they may deal with the abominations of undead. They may also strike with the power of the gods, in the names of the gods. We are gifted with power that comes only from inside, and, unlike the clerics, who may be punished should they disobey Her, we must watch our own paths and choose how best to use our power. "The same is for the druids. They, like us, choose the path they will take, and though many of their weavings are similar to ours, most of their spells are linked to nature, and the needs of beasts and plants."

Briana nodded, then frowned.

"Are we then more powerful than those who cannot touch the magic?"

A low chuckle escaped Rosmarin. "No, though there are always those among the non weavers who would like to think so." She lifted one long hand and ticked off a finger. "Knights are those who serve a cause through battle; they will have a code that must be followed, and are usually very skilled in the arts of war. Because of their dedication, they may will their bodies to heal, and perform great feats of strength, both of will and body. They are generally good allies."

Another finger bent down. "Fighters are those who live by sword or spear; for whatever reason they have chosen to taunt death in a dance of blood. While they are the most deadly combatants, they are also skilled at other things, like repairing articles of leather and metal, judging the worth of blades, and opponents, and healing themselves though never others.

"The last true death-dealer is known as a ranger, one who travels the wild lands. They are skilled with bows, snares, and well-camouflaged traps, and can reportedly teach their arrows to do almost anything, including kill from twice as far as you can send a spell. They also deal most closely with the beasts of the forests and plains, can tell from a single track if you were carrying a heavy load and how long ago; they know the herbs that heal, as well as some that don't. Rangers are usually rough folks, but their abilities in the wilds are unparalleled, and they are good travelling companions."

"The last two non-weavers are harder to pinpoint." The last two fingers remained up as she indicated them with a thoughtful glance. "Rogues or thieves are all those whose skills let them remain hidden, and strike from the shadows. They fight from behind, with poison and quick attacks, instead of straight forward combat. And outside of fights, these people can make the lives of merchants miserable, for their skill with money has no equal; they can bargain for the best price, buying or selling, and know the true worth of goods of all types. No lock, and few belt pouches, are safe from their delicate touch, and they can trace a path as well as a ranger. All types of poisons are known to them, and they can decipher the most creative traps. Like us, though, they cannot heal themselves."

"Monks, on the other hand, can heal themselves, but only themselves. These are people who have gained true mastery of their bodies through utter dedication. Like the knight, whose faith in himself gives him power over fear and even death, the monk can accomplish incredible feats of dexterity and skill through only his knowledge of his own potential. They are skilled fighters, and graceful acrobats. Never underestimate their potential, for good or ill."

"But without magic, how is their power the equal of ours?" Briana persisted.

Rosmarin sighed. "Child, magic is always limited. It must come from within you, and each spell, whether to fog the mind or kill with fire, costs energy that you must sleep to replace. And you cannot weave your spells over a great distance, or quickly; should someone be out of the range for your weaving, or attack you before the words of the weaving are completed, all is for naught. You will release the energy for no effect."

"We are powerful; I have danced bolts of fire and ice from the cliffs to the south to frighten pirates, and I have watched others place whole battalions of raiders to sleep. Magic may give us to understand strange words, spoken or written, and can let us find lost things or change the shape of a man to a beast, even turn him to stone. We can find magic, weave it, dispel it, and use it for knowledge and protection, strength and stealth. But we are mortal, and our power is limited. Thus we are no better and no worse than the other weavers of power, or even those who do not cast spells upon the Winds."

She became serious, her old voice stern. "Remember when you travel the outer world that you are not all powerful, and that your power will make you enemies, for there are those who fear what they can never have and will hate you for that fear. Long have mages and other weavers been punished for hearing the call of power. Make friends among those who weave not; learn to appreciate what they can do that they might appreciate the more what you can do."

Rosmarin looked into the fire for long moments before Briana finally spoke. There was a new note of confidence, or determination, underlying her words.

"I have listened, and I will remember..."