Behind her in a rough half-circle stood the rest Of the Clan, from the infants in arms to the oldest grandsire, adding their prayers to hers.
And with the moon, She came.
Her face changed, moment to moment, from Maid to Crone, from stern Warrior to nurturing Mother, and back again. She filled the sky, and yet She stood before Ravenwing and stared deeply and directly into the shaman's eyes.
She spoke, and Her voice filled Ravenwing's ears and mind so completely that there was room for nothing but the experience.
'I have heard your prayers,' She said, gravely, 'as I have heard the prayers of your Sundered brothers. There was a price to be paid for what they asked, and there is a price to be paid for what you ask.'
'In blood?' asked a quiet voice, which Ravenwing recognized as that of Azurestar, shaman of Cat Clan. A tiny bit of her was left to wonder that she could hear the voice as clearly as if Azurestar stood beside her.
She shook Her head. 'Not in blood-in your lives, all of you. I shall give you back your homeland, but the price is vigilance.' She held out Her hand, and cupped within it was the crater. In the center of the crater, and scattered about it, beneath the slag and fused stone, were shapeless things that glowed an evil green.
'Three things destroyed the homeland,' She said gravely. 'the destructive spell of an enemy, the self- destruction of the Gate that you fled through, and the Final Strike of your master Urtho's death by his Champion, meant to remove his enemy as he himself died. Yet despite all this, there are many weapons of Urtho's making that still remain and could be used, buried beneath the slag and rubble. There are weapons there that are too dangerous even for those with good intentions to hold. But you have forsworn magic for all time-they will be no temptation to you.' Ravenwing nodded, and felt the agreement of the rest.
'Here, then, is the price. You must guard your new land, which you shall call the Dhorisha Shin'a-the Plains of Sacrifice, and yourselves the Shin'a'in-the People of the Plains. You must keep strangers out at all cost, unless they pledge themselves into the Clans, or are allies that you, the shamans, must call on Me to judge. Those will be marked in ways that you will recognize. You will never swear to any overlord again, but will remain always sworn only to each other and to the Powers. You have forsworn magic, and you must keep that vow. Any of your children that are born with Mage-Gift, you must either send to your Sundered brothers, bring into the craft of the shaman, or permit the shaman to block the Gift for all time.' It was a sacrifice indeed; of freedom, and to a small extent, of free will-and not just for them, but for all generations. They would swear to an endless service, an endless guardianship.
But the gain was their home.
She felt the assent of her people, and added her own to it. the Goddess smiled. 'It is well,' She said, and spread out Her hands, stepped down into the crater, and began to walk. where Her feet touched, a carpet of flowers, grass, and trees sprang up, and spread, flowing over the ruined earth like a green flood, as She walked westward...Kra'heera blinked, and smiled faintly. He had forgotten how powerful the memories knotted into this weaving were. Ravenwing had been a formidable, strong-minded woman, and had managed to weave in not only the memories, but the emotions she had felt at the time.
That, of course, was the secret of the shamanic weavings; they held the memory of every shaman who worked upon them. This weaving held not only Ravenwing, but the half dozen who had followed her in those eventful days. Other weavings held the memories of more shamans than that; often in the Plains these days, there was little to record for years or even decades.
The most significant weavings were kept here, where all the Clans could have free access to them. There were more than four Clans now, and it was part of the training of a shaman that he come here, to experience the beginning of the Shin'a'in, the People of the Plains, for himself.
Ravenwing was responsible for making a great deal of the early training of shaman a part of the education of every Shin'a'in, so that every Shin'a'in could invoke the Powers at need. In the event of a Clan losing their shaman, it would be less of a problem to wait on the training of another than it had been in the old days.
She had also been responsible for insisting that whenever possible, more than one shaman and apprentice be resident with each Clan. And she had been the shaman who created the first of the Kal'enedral, those warriors who served, not any one Clan, but all of the Clans together.
Altogether a remarkable woman, indeed.
Kra'heera turned slowly toward his own apprentice, and waited for the memories the shaman had invoked to release the younger man. Finally Tre'valen blinked, and shook his head slightly.
'All that is left is for you to learn the unlocking of these memories, and the weaving of them yourself,' Kra'heera told the apprentice. 'But that was not why I brought you here now. Have you guessed why?' Tre'valen, who had already recovered from the affect of the alien memories on his own mind, nodded. 'It is because of the rumors, I think,' he said. 'There are rumors that the Plains have been disturbed.
You wanted me to see for myself why it is the People guard them.' Kra'heera considered moving-but the memory-trance relaxed one rather than leaving one tense, and there was nowhere more secure from listeners than this place.
'The rumors are true,' he said. 'There have been intruders on the Plains, intruders that only the shaman have
