You must let go of your anger," Pagonel said to Brynn.

The dark-haired woman looked at the mystic hard. ?I JX. saw Ashwarawu die."

"I saw many die," Pagonel replied. ?I saw you almost die."

"I saw my parents die," Brynn countered, her lip curling in this dark game of one-upsmanship.

"You must let go of your anger."

"How can I forget..."

"I did not ask you to forget," the mystic clarified. ?Never that. We each are a composite of our experiences, good and bad, and to release any expe-rience from our thoughts diminishes who we are. Do not forget. Do not dull the images. But do not let those images inspire self-destruction."

Brynn looked at him as if she did not understand.

"Anger dulls the consciousness," Pagonel explained. ?Anger sets you on a path that you cannot easily break free of, even if common sense dictates that you take another course. You watched Ashwarawu die, but he died, in part, because he was blinded to the reality of the Behrenese trap, partly be-cause of pride and partly because of anger."

Brynn considered the words for a few moments, and did not disagree. ?It will be difficult to raise another band to battle the Wraps."

"That word rings foully off your lips, Brynn Dharielle."

She looked hard at the mystic.

"Wraps," he explained. ?A word of belittlement, a word to dehumanize your enemy."

"Belittlement?" Brynn echoed incredulously. ?If given the chance, I would kill every Wrap... every Behrenese,"she corrected, seeing the judg-ing scowl.

"Would you? Would you kill a Behrenese child? A poor mother? A man who has never lifted a weapon against To-gai? Are you so hardened by the bitterness of defeat that you have changed fundamentally from that woman who recoiled at the thought of finishing off Behrenese warriors who lay dy-in the sand?" Pagonel stopped and smiled, then chuckled aloud at Brynn looked away, but she couldn't resist. The mystic was right -  and she felt foolish indeed at her fiery declaration.

"Consider your feelings honestly concerning the Behrenese," Pagonel dvised. ?Recognize that they are not all of one mind, and not all deserving of retribution. Recognize that they, even those you hate the most, are hu-man beings, are creatures with hopes for themselves and for their children not so different from your own."

"Do you ask that I abandon my cause?"

"No. I ask that you remain truthful to yourself. Nothing more. Your path will not be bloodless, should you walk the road of war again. There will be a heavy price to be paid, for the Behrenese and the To-gai-ru. Is that cost worth the prize that will be freedom?"

"It is!" Brynn said without the slightest hesitation.

"That is all."

Pagonel turned and walked away from her then, leaving her standing on the short stone bridge connecting two wings of the Walk of Clouds monas-tery, far, far above the floor of a deep and misty gorge.

With just a few words, the mystic had changed her line of thinking, had shifted her perspective - just a bit, but in a direction that Brynn was already thinking might prove to be very productive.

She knew that this would be but one of many, many lessons Pagonel and his brothers and sisters of the Walk of Clouds would teach her in her stay there.

"I am often struck by how similar we all are, though we paint different la-bels upon our common beliefs, different names upon our common gods, and enact different rituals to reach the same elevated state of conscious-ness," Pagonel remarked as he exited the darkened room to face the eager Brynn Dharielle.

Brynn looked at him curiously, surprised by his smugness, and more than a little disappointed. She had just taken one of the greatest chances in her life, had just shown to this mystic who had become so dear to her during the last few weeks at the Walk of Clouds one of the greatest secrets of the Touel'alfar. Her teaching of Oracle to Pagonel was a huge expression of trust, for the gifts that Lady Dasslerond's people had shown to Brynn were not to be passed along. She had expected that the mystic would be over-whelmed, would walk out of the room with that same look of disbelief upon his face that Brynn had worn in her first successful Oracle, when she had communicated, she believed, with the ghosts of her dead parents.

He had been in the room for a long time, and Brynn was certain that he had succeeded in reaching a height of intensity, a level of consciousness that transcended the bounds of mortality. And yet here he was, obviously less than impressed.

"There is only one direction, after all," Pagonel started, but he looked at Brynn, whose face showed her disappointment clearly, and paused.

"You know of the Abellican Monks of Honce-the-Bear?" the Jhesta Tu asked a moment later.

Brynn nodded.

"They derive their power through use of gemstones that they consider sacred."

"The ranger who trained beside me was also being trained in the use of the gemstones," Brynn remarked, and Pagonel nodded.

"The Yatols view the stones as sacrilege."

Again Brynn nodded. ?And the Jhesta Tu?"

"We have used them."

"And were you impressed enough to incorporate them into your reli-gion?" Brynn asked, a bit sarcastically, given the mystic's quiet attitude toward Oracle.

"Jhesta Tu attempt to find the same powers as the gemstones offer, the same power that your Oracle offers, within ourselves," the mystic explained. He walked over and tapped Brynn on the forehead. ?There is as much magic and power in here," he said, and then he surprised her by running his hand down her face, down her neck, between her breasts and over her belly, all the way to her groin. ?A line of strength from there to there,"

he explained stepping back. ?This is the core of your life energy, your Chi, and few are the people who can truly come to appreciate the power of that energy."

"Only the Jhesta Tu?" the somewhat shaken woman asked.

"Only a very few of Jhesta Tu," Pagonel explained. ?And only after years and years of study. Internal study."

He reached down and untied the black sash from around his waist, holding it up before the woman. ?The Belt of All Colors," he explained. ?It is the symbol of understanding. Three in the Walk of Clouds now wear it, and of the others, well exceeding one hundred in number, perhaps a handful will one day find the enlightenment to earn this sash."

Brynn reached up reverently to touch the belt, and only then did she see that it was not truly black, but was comprised of fine fibers that ran the length of the color spectrum.

The woman sat back as the mystic stepped away, replacing the sash about his waist. Despite her prior understanding of who this man, Pagonel, truly was, his remark caught her as arrogant at that time, almost belittling her years of training with the Touel'alfar.

"And what is Oracle beside such achievement?" she asked, her voice thick with sarcasm.

Pagonel laughed at her. ?It is a very great thing, a precious gift, and a long stride along the road toward enlightenment."

expression grew confused. ?You seemed less than impressed,"

' ?There is a group giving themselves to the wind this morning," Pagonel said to her. ?Come. I will show you our Oracle."

"Giving themselves to the wind?"

"Come ? Pagonel said, holding out his hand to her. ?As you shared Ora-cle with me, so I shall share this with you."

Intrigued, Brynn took the mystic's hand. He led her out of the monastery through a door that she had not seen before, exiting the back side of the building. Before them was a single trail, ascending the mountainside. They set off at a brisk pace, with Pagonel leading Brynn at a trot at times. A short while later, still climbing along a bare rock face, the pair spotted a line of a half dozen mystics in their orange-and-red robes, high above them.

"It is getting cold," Brynn observed.

"That is the point."

Brynn stopped abruptly, and Pagonel pulled free of her hand. He, too, stopped, and turned back to regard her.

"What is this?"

"Ever impatient," the mystic observed, and he gave a great sigh and a greater smile. ?This is one of the rites of passage through the Jhesta Tu or-der. Though most of my brothers and sisters who are able to give them-selves to the wind are older and more experienced than you, I believe that you should try. Your training has been amazing, I would guess, if you have perfected the meditation you call Oracle."

"And this is the next step ahead of Oracle?" Brynn asked, and still there was a hint of sarcasm in her tone, one that Pagonel caught, if his laugh was any indication.

"This is a step to the side, not ahead," the mystic explained. ?This is our Oracle - one manifestation of it, at least."

Brynn held her intended sharp retort. ?Then lead on," she decided a moment later, and she took Pagonel's offered hand.

They continued climbing for nearly an hour, their pace slowing as the ter-rain grew more difficult. Soon, they caught up to the other Jhesta Tu mys-tics, with Pagonel falling into line behind them, Brynn behind him. The woman feared that she might not be accepted, but none of the mystics seemed to even acknowledge her presence. Besides, she realized, Pagonel was the highest-ranking of their order, along with Master Cheyes and Matron Dasa, and so she supposed that he could pretty much make the rules as he saw appropriate, especially the rules concerning his visitor to the monastery.

By midafternoon, the troupe was high up on the mountainside, with a cold wind blowing fiercely about them, and patches of snow holding fast in the shaded areas. Brynn was about to remark that she was not properly dressed for the elements, but she held the thought private, for the seven Jhesta Tu mystics ahead of her in line were wearing no more than their light robes, and while a couple wore sandals, the others were barefoot.

They came up over a rocky rise, and the path split, veering out to the left to the facing of the steep mountainside, and continuing to the right, climb-ing higher. Brynn was surprised when the mystics went left, and even more surprised when she came to the cliff facing, out of the shelter of the rocks and walls. The path dipped lower there, running out to a narrow north-facing ledge.

The wind blew cold, so cold! The mystics went out calmly, the lead brother moving to the end of the ledge and sitting down, cross-legged.

Pagonel stopped and ushered Brynn past him, onto the ledge in place be-hind the other mystics. She looked to her mentor, then to the others, who were all settling in with that same cross-legged posture.

Pagonel motioned for her to do likewise, and so she settled down.

The others brought their hands up, pressing palms together before their faces. By the time Brynn did the same, the others released their hands down to their hips. In unison, they arched their backs, lifting their hips up and back, then rolled forward slowly but steadily, folding up at the waist so that they wound up bent double over their crossed legs, heads pressing the stone, arms extending up above them.

Brynn looked up at Pagonel, who was still standing, and he nodded for her to assume the same pose.

With a shrug, the woman rolled her hips back, then rotated forward, bending low. She couldn't get quite as far down as the mystics, but she was fairly limber and managed to settle into a somewhat comfortable position.

Then she waited.

And waited.

For a long time, Brynn kept peeking out under her arms to the others, expecting them to shift to another position. But none moved at all. A cou-ple of them moaned softly, but other than that, they were all perfectly still and quiet.

The minutes passed and became inconsequential. After some time, Brynn stopped peeking out, just fell into the moment and allowed her thoughts to drift away, to memories, to fantasies, and then, to nothing at all.

She fell deeper and deeper away from the world.

A cold numbness brought her back to her consciousness sometime later. She blinked open her eyes and was surprised to see that the sun had set.

Brynn felt her muscles contracting; her teeth started chattering. With great effort, she lifted her head into the face of the cold night wind. Shak-ing, the cold biting at all of her exposed flesh, the woman managed to sit up.

And then Pagonel was there, beside her, wrapping a heavy woolen blan-ket about her and helping her to her feet, then holding her steady while the feeling returned to her legs.

He started to lead her away.

of them?" Brynn asked.

"Thev will return to the monastery tomorrow." R -nn stopped, her stare incredulous as she looked from Pagonel to the meditating mystics. ?They will freeze." ' ?They have consciously slowed their bodies. Their hearts barely beat and the cold will not wound them," the Jhesta Tu master explained. Brynn stared at him in disbelief.

"As you learned your Oracle, so these Jhesta Tu have learned theirs. In me you will come to understand, if you choose to learn." He started away, nd Brynn went along for a short while, before stopping and staring at him hard.

"But you were able to succeed at Oracle on your first try," she said, again with a hint in her voice that something wasn't quite right here, that perhaps Pagonel was mocking her.

"Are you so concerned with how you measure beside me?" the mystic asked bluntly. ?Are you so concerned how your training measures against that of the Jhesta Tu?"

Brynn didn't blink.

"All of the mystics now giving themselves to the wind are your seniors," he explained. ?And I am likely twice your age. Waste not your time, your emotions, and your talents on such negative feelings, my friend."

"Did you bring me here to fail?" the unrelenting Brynn asked. ?To prove to me that I had a lot more to learn?"

"I brought you here not knowing whether you would fail or not," Pago-nel answered. ?But it hardly matters. I will teach you the technique over the next weeks, and when you return here, you will pass the night in quiet com-fort, falling within yourself to shelter from the cold."

Brynn glanced back up the path.

'Even in winter," Pagonel promised. ?Even on winter's coldest night."

He led her back down to the monastery then, walking along the dark path with the ease of familiarity.

Brynn began her lessons the next day, with Pagonel teaching her how to focus her thoughts upon one part, one aspect, of her body. He showed her how to consciously relax, strengthening the connection between mind and body, strengthening her control over herself, even to the point of slowing the beat of her heart.

Brynn returned to the shelf three weeks later. The following morn-ing, feeling thoroughly refreshed, Brynn Dharielle walked down the path beside a handful of Jhesta Tu, back to the monastery. None of the mystics said anything to her on that long walk, but whenever she managed to catch their eyes, the looks that she got back were inevitably ones of acceptance.

Brynn went up the mountain to give herself to the wind many times over the next weeks and months, and even though summer had blossomed on the land far below, up there only the discipline she had learned from Pagonel and from the elves allowed her to survive the brutally cold nights On one occasion, Brynn remained up on that shelf for three days, deep within herself, and within the emptiness of dark peace.

Every time she came back down the mountain, the woman felt refreshed felt stronger, and felt that the road of her life was a bit more clearly defined She left the Walk of Clouds in the other direction often, as well, traveling down the thousands of stone stairs to the valley floor. Finding the grassy fields where the horses ran was not difficult, and a single whistle and call al-ways brought Brynn's best friend galloping to her side.

On one such morning, when the summer of God's Year 841 was giving way to autumn, Brynn and Runtly basked in the sunshine. The woman had brought a bucket and brushes down with her, and she knew all the right places to brush the pony, using just the right texture of bristle so that the pony kept throwing his head with approval.

Brynn had come down before the dawn this morning, so that she had caught up to Runtly just as the sun was rising, intending to spend the whole of the day with the pony, brushing him clean, riding him, just sitting in the grass beside him as he meandered about, seeking out delicious clover.

The young ranger was surprised when she saw a figure approaching, tall and slender, though with a bit of a belly. As he came out of the direct sun-light, she recognized Pagonel.

"Am I needed above?" Brynn asked, concerned, not because of any ex-pression or posture of the mystic, but merely from the fact that he had come all the way down there.

"I thought that I might come and enjoy the day with you," Pagonel replied. ?And with him." As he finished, he walked over and stroked Runtly's mus-cled neck as the pony happily munched at some clover. Runtly's head snapped around and he bit at Pagonel's hand, not seriously, not trying to in-jure, but merely as a warning gesture.

"He likes you, I am certain," Brynn said with a chuckle.

"Or he likes the way I taste."

"Perhaps he sees our friendship as a threat to my friendship with him."

"Or perhaps he simply likes the way I taste!" Pagonel reiterated, patting the pony hard on the neck.

"I enjoyed several hours of Oracle this morning," the mystic went on.

Brynn knew that he was not lying, nor was he saying that just to make her feel a bit better about her place at the Walk of Clouds.

"A lesson learned in exchange for a lesson given?" she asked.

"A valuable exchange."

"Was it?" Brynn asked in all seriousness. ?Do your brethren share your enthusiasm for that which I might contribute to your order? ?

"You are anxious."

Brvnn considered the statement for a moment, then nodded. ?The Walk f Clouds is unaccustomed to casual visitors."

"Is that what you are?"

"Is that what I am?" the woman came right back at him. ?I am not a ember of your order, yet you share its secrets with me. Does that sit well vrtth your peers, Pagonel?"

"I wear the Belt of All Colors and am thus answerable only to my own judgment," he explained. ?There is no questioning, not to me, nor behind vour back in whispers. It is no Jhesta Tu's place to question your presence here."

"But where do I fit in, in the judgment of Pagonel?" Brynn asked. ?Do you think me Jhesta Tu? Do you hope that I will walk that path?"

"I think that you have been walking that path for most of your life," the mystic explained. ?Whether you one day choose formally to claim yourself Jhesta Tu is irrelevant."

Brynn started to reply, but Pagonel stopped her with an upraised hand, patted Runtly hard on the neck one last time, then moved over and sat be-side the woman. ?Many centuries ago, soon after the establishment of the Abellican Church in Honce-the-Bear, one of their missionaries happened upon us, gemstones in hand, to spread the good word of his version of god. He was taken in at the Walk of Clouds, as were you, and shared with us as we shared with him. Both our order and his understanding were strength-ened by that commune, I believe, and thus am I strengthened in my under-standing by learning the truths as you have learned them.

And thus, I pray, will you be strengthened by your experiences here at the Walk of Clouds."

Brynn looked at the older man hard, locking his gaze and not blinking. ?Why do you wish me strengthened?

Is my cause your cause?"

"I do not know," the mystic admitted.

"Then why?" Brynn asked. ?Why did you risk your life to pull me off the battlefield outside of Dharyan? And why did you then bring me all the way to the south? Would you have done as much if it was another you had saved? Would you have taken another - even Ashwarawu himself - all the way here and opened the secrets of your order to him?"

"No," Pagonel admitted without even considering the words.

"Then why?"

The mystic took a deep breath and leaned back a bit as Brynn leaned in eagerly toward him. After a few moments, he looked away.

"Because I see in you so much of my own heart," he said a short while later, and he turned back to stare into Brynn's puzzled expression, that beautiful face only an inch from his own. ?You understand Jhesta Tu - I knew that you would. I knew that both of us would benefit..." He stam-mered a bit, at a loss for words for the first time Brynn had ever seen.

She stopped him, then, putting her finger over his lips. ?I know," she said. ?I knew it, too, when first we met at Ashwarawu's camp."

She moved her finger away, but Pagonel didn't resume speaking. He just sat there, staring at her, and she at him.

All that Pagonel wanted to do at that moment was kiss her. But he didn't holding back and reminding himself that he was twice Brynn's age.

All that Brynn wanted to do at that moment was kiss this man, but she wasn't bold enough to initiate that level of intimacy, though in truth, to her physical intimacy between them could be nothing more than an extension of the emotional intimacy they had been sharing all these months.

They were so in harmony, spirit and soul, that Brynn hardly cared about any age difference.

But Pagonel held back, and Brynn, so innocent and unawares in matters of physical intimacy, would not take this first step.

They stayed on the field with Runtly until late that afternoon, then walked together up the long staircase back to the Walk of Clouds, Pagonel's home and Brynn's welcomed sanctuary.