[spoiler=Rolls]Kraytor's MindsightEkatrina's Mindsight
Ekatrina smiled up at the massive shaman. It looked so innocent and open it was vaguely unsettling for reasons he couldn't quite place. "You may look into mind, Kraytor of the line Faeyon, but remember, I will be seeing in to your mind at the same time."
"You may not like what you see, little girl."
"What I see is what I see."
Kraytor placed two fingers at the young woman's temple, weaving the skeins through her mind, guiding his mind into hers. What he saw was flashes of instinct and emotion, memories surging with each, associations and chains of events. But what he needed to find was motive—why did she want help? And there it was, plain as day. She was still just a girl, worried about her mother. Nothing more, nothing less. She could be trusted—although how much use she would be ina fight was debatable, considering she had never even sparred.
"So what if I don't like fighting?" she asked rebelliously when Kraytor broke the connection. "You like the taste of blood too much."
"You should at least know how to fight," Oan responded. "The people who have your mother are very dangerous. If you can't fight, you can't come with us."
"I don't have to fight—my magick will fight for me."
"You've been in a mage duel?"
"Sometimes, with mum. Mystics have great magicks."
"Shamans are better."
"Sometimes, Kraytor of the line Faeyon. Sometimes," she turned to Oan and Emily. "Hey, know where we can have lunch?"
"So, you ran into Reithon… interesting," Oan took a swig from his ale before continuing. "Tybalt's got the right idea, could lead us to where we want to go—but when I saw him, he was just as scared of Sanna as he was of everyone else. Could be a dead end, but we'll keep an eye on it. Speaking of which, Ekatrina, these are our companions: Tybalt, a runesmith; Kahlan, one of our healers; Xan, our other healer—and his plant, Frank; Marcus, he's a warrior, born and bred, got us out of some tight situations with that hammer of his; Maggs, a friend from my past; and you already know me, Kraytor, and Emily. Let's see, that just leaves Thomas—he's a little odd, and quite badly hurt right now. And of course, Atlas and Rock, our Dwarves—actual Dwarves, not midgets; what I've learned of their culture is fascinating, to say the least… anyway, you said you could help us find you mother."
Ekatrina chewed slowly, nervously taking in the way all eyes had turned to her. She swallowed loudly, then spoke. "I can sometimes see through my mother's eyes, a trait we share as mystics from the same family, and something enhanced by my shamanism. I know there are at least half a dozen men holding her. They talked about some kind of ritual, and a 'crux'. I know she's still in the southern heights, but it's not clear where. The closer we get, the easier it should be for my mind to find hers. Then I guess you guys fight the bad men, I get my mum back, and we go our separate ways."