Thomas lightly knocked on the Headmaster's partially open door. "Headmaster, do you have a moment?"

"Of course. What can I help you with, Mr. Walker?"

"I ... I need...permission...to spend the night out in the mountains this weekend." Thomas' nervousness had never been more apparent.

The Headmaster studied the young shaman. His hands were fidgeting with the scales of his mail shirt, and he seemed unable to keep his feet planted. Most telling were his eyes. As Thomas had told the Headmaster on the day he was recognized as a shaman, when he was under stress, they would change color. Today they were putting on quite a show.

"Please, take a seat," the Headmaster offered. As Thomas made himself comfortable, the Headmaster thought about the request. While students were given a large amount of liberty, staying overnight anywhere other than the assigned dorm was one of the most strictly enforced rules. "Why do want to spend the night out?"

"It's ...complicated. I feel like I'm pushed against a wall. My training seems like it's stalled. I'm constantly feeling ... the effects... of various spells being cast in the school. It feels like... something is missing... like I'm supposed to do... something... but I'm not exactly sure what... and it can't be done here. It's too ... crowded. I need time...space...away...so I can ...hear..." Thomas trailed off. "I'm sorry, it's just hard to explain."

"What do you mean you need to 'hear'?"

"It's like ...a whisper...a voice buried under all the activities in the school. I know it's there, but I can't make it out. It's too faint."

"Do you have any clue about what it is saying?"

"It's ... calling ... for me. It wants me to ... answer...I think."

At this, the Headmaster saw that he had been wrong. Thomas wasn't nervous, he was scared. Or maybe terrified would be closer. How many stories follow a character who begins to hear voices in their head or sleep? The stories of Sméagol and Prince Arthras come quickly to mind. And most of them are not pleasant for the character in question.

"Thomas," the Headmaster said quietly, "Hearing voices that no one else can is never an easy thing to deal with. Have you spoken to anyone about this yet? Sister Johanna, perhaps?"

"Yes," said Thomas, not lifting his eyes from his feet.

"What did she say?"

"That it's a difficult problem. Spirits rarely speak to someone without a reason. So, when they do speak, it's best to listen. But don't take what they say in blind faith. Listen, think then act. That is the best way to cooperate with spirits."

"So, have you listened?"

"As much as I can, which isn't much."

"Have you thought?"

"Yes. Too much probably. How can I trust what I don't understand? I think it's important, I just don't know for who. Part of me wants to believe it's for me. I think it's an important part of being a shaman. Casting magic on a battlefield can't be all that a shaman does. It can't! But another part is afraid of being used, of becoming a puppet of some malevolent being and made to do horrible things."

"And finally, are you ready to act?"

"That's why I came today. For better or worse, I need to do this."

"I understand," the Headmaster looked to the war-hammer hung above the mantle. "I know how hard these kinds of choices are. I had a similar experience long ago."

Seeing Thomas raise his head, the Headmaster continued. "While you have been studying the Shaman War, have you come across any lists that divide casualties by Class?"

Slightly confused about the sudden change of topic, Thomas replied. "I have."

"What Class had the highest casualties?"

"The Warriors"

"I see. In terms of pure numbers that would be correct, but not accurate. Most records put the Warriors at around a seventeen percent casualty rate. That is seventeen out of every hundred would be killed or die of wounds. However, the worst casualty rates were for the Paladins and Druids. Those two Classes lost over ninety percent of all members who chose to aid the Coalition," the Headmaster paused to steel himself before continuing. "Most of the Paladins actually lived, but were no longer Paladins. During the second half of the war, when the Coalition stopped distinguishing between the renegades and the innocent, many Paladins chose to follow the orders of their guilds and the Coalition they had sworn to aid. But attacking the innocent goes against everything the Paladins stood for. They were trapped. Their oaths were broken, and their gods withdrew their powers. The Paladins that stood against the Coalition were excommunicated, tried for treason and imprisoned. Those who obeyed had their powers stripped by the gods themselves." The Headmaster dropped his eyes to the desk and continued softly, "How I wish I had been brave enough to say 'This is Wrong'," the Headmaster looked at Thomas with tears in his eyes. "I heard the voice of the light; I knew that the Coalition was wrong, that the orders were wrong; and I still raised my hammer against those that were only trying to protect their families. That was the last day I could call myself a Paladin."

A long silence followed the Headmaster's lament; weighted down with fear and regret. Thomas understood why the Headmaster had shared his past with him. It was an example of the consequences of not listening when spirits chose to speak.

Eventually, the Headmaster raised his head. While he was still emotionally shaken, his voice had returned to its normal tone. "Do you have any idea about what the spirits want you to do when you're away from the school?"

"If I understand them right, there is a ritual or rite of passage I need to complete. I've also seen paths and plants in my dreams that I think are needed." Thomas rose from his seat and approached the map hung on the wall next to the fireplace. "Here," Thomas pointed to a small shelf on the mountainside several hours walk from the school and well away from any road. "That's where I need to go. They want me there when the moon is full."

"I see," the Headmaster briefly considered his options. Overnight rituals were not uncommon at the school, but they were always accompanied by the student's mentor. "Mr. Walker, I'm going to approve your request, on the condition that one of the teachers accompanies you."

"That's fine, sir. But please don't send Ms. Nightfrost."

"Is there some conflict between you?" asked the Headmaster. His first inclination had been to send the mage instructor.

"No, sir. Nothing like that. It's just that she's too curious. About my training and abilities, I mean. It can get… uncomfortable… at times. Also, she has one of the most… distracting, I guess you could call it, auras in the school."

"Well, then, how about Mr. Ericson?"

"I don't have any problem with Mr. Ericson coming along." Thomas considered the suggestion, "He's never been one of the ones who 'distract' me, and his interest in my development is mostly focused on my melee fighting abilities."

"That's probably because he is not a practitioner of any kind of magic," said the Headmaster. "That could be another point in his favor. All right, I'll make the arraignments. The full moon is on Saturday night, so you'll leave Saturday morning and return Sunday night. Do you think that will be enough time?"

"From the glimpses I've seen and heard it should be enough. But I'm still worried about conducting some kind of ritual for the first time without guidance, if you get my meaning."

"I do. But we don't have any shamans left to guide you. So, if you are going to do this, it will have to be alone. Sending a teacher along to supervise is the best we can do at the moment."

"I know. Thank you for your help, Headmaster. I'll be gong now. Alex has asked me to do some repair work for her. Goodbye." Thomas left the room, not seeing the worried look on the headmaster's face. Despite the jaunty tone of his words to Thomas, he was still very worried. Most rituals were not to be taken lightly. And it rankled that he had no choice but to send Thomas off with only an observer available to help, if things went bad.