Anest felt a great surge of power through the wood in his hands. Belloc sensed this and said, "Here you must take a risk. To achieve greater power, a wizard must trust in Fate and place much of himself, and therefore his power, even his life, into the staff itself. This will make the staff your own, but there is a danger and a price to be paid. Should the staff be taken or destroyed, you will lose part of yourself, at least for a time.
"Now, what you are about to do is a contradiction, but do it in faith nonetheless. Do not draw the power to yourself. Be forewarned! That kind of power is fatal to your mortal being! Rather, concentrate on giving the staff your inner power. Hold nothing back."
Anest tried giving of himself, yet found within himself a confused tangle of impressions. Wherein lay his strength? And wherein did his strength come from? His first thought was that of every young man, who blithely thinks to pit the bravado he miscalls courage against every obstacle. But courage, he soon discovered, was not something he could give away. It was and remained with him. Simple courage, therefore, was not the answer. Obviously there was something else. Something more. Something he had overlooked.
An impression came to him, then, of Lily laying fast asleep, limned in moonlight, safe and oblivious.