Lady of Silences

Daram University

A muddled sea of faces looked down the long hall towards a slate board that took up the entirety of the far wall. Some dozed, their chins rested lazily on propped hands, or even lay with their heads askew on one folded elbow. Kerron saw one boy doodling furiously on a sheaf of papers, occasionally flipping the stack back and forth to compare the lines. He usually ignored students who chose to use his lectures as extra nap time or time to study for other classes. It was their money after all—or their parents money—and it was no problem of his if they performed poorly due to their own bad planning.

Thankfully, today it seemed that the majority of the faces staring down at him this afternoon were attentive, taking notes and copying the diagrams he had sketched on the slate behind him. He turned back to the board and drew a closed circle and a three-part knot.

"After a simple unknot," he pointed at the closed circle, "the next in the series is the three-cross, the trefoil. Look closely at the way one line crosses behind," he circled a point on the second figure where the lines crossed with a small break in the drawing, "and the other crosses in front." He circled a second crossing. "These are key to the making of a correct Weave. If the strands are crossed improperly it simply won't work. The figure becomes null and has no effect."

He turned back to the room as the class—those who were paying attention at least—finished their notes.

"Now," he continued, "we move into more complex shapes. Typically, when a pannari adept learns Weaving, he or she begins with a simple braid or plait. A three-part braid is the easiest to learn and demonstrate."

Kerron scanned the room for a moment and then gestured at a girl on the left side of the room. "You're wearing a braid in your hair today." The girl jumped a bit and blushed as her classmates all turned her way. "How old were you when you learned to braid your own hair?"

"Um... I think my mother taught me when I was five or six," she said quietly.

Kerron nodded. "That's pretty close to the age when a pannari child can perform their first simple Weave. Their schools start teaching with a three-part plait, either using hair or reeds or even yarn. It takes a lot more dexterity to move on to more complex shapes, so they also begin with hand and finger exercises in the first year.

"Consider this motion, used only with the fingers."He sketched a shape in the air with three fingers, using a twisting motion of the wrist as he completed his movement. "That's a five-part Weave, using treble structure."

He paused again. "As you can see, it did nothing. Which brings us to the most fascinating part. Why can a pannari Weave, and a human cannot? We, as humans, can study Weaving all we like. I could use all the correct gestures, I can understand the theory and each individual turn, but no matter how perfectly I perform a Weave, nothing will happen."

"It comes down to aptitude. Not all pannari can successfully Weave either. Some children show aptitude at a young age, Weaving complex figures as easily as learning to speak. Other pannari children find it more difficult to learn but manage to complete the easier forms with some instruction. The schools recruit practitioners regardless of skill level if a child shows even a touch of aptitude. But the majority of pannari can't perform a Weaving any more than you or I can. It simply won't work."

A young man in the front row looked up from a frantic scribbling of notes. "But, why?"

Kerron shrugged, putting his palms up. "No one knows. Not even the pannari themselves. There are theories, of course. The talent for Weaving seems to run in families. But even then, not every family member will show aptitude down through the generations. Skill and power seem to be random as well. The religious texts say that aptitude is a gift of the Goddess, bestowed based on Her divine will. But many scholars from both races still believe that there must be a logical, predictable component that determines aptitude."