[ She laughs, very soft and disbelieving. At first she wants to believe he's joking, but he's just as serious about not knowing what she's talking about as she is about her subject matter.

--and perhaps, given to babbling when he's off balance. Moiraine sighs a little, and sits down on a nearby block of stone from the ruins, adjusting the hem of her robe so it covers her knees. She feels more exposed than she'd prefer, not that there's anything she can do about that at the moment. ]

The True Source is the wellspring of all life. From the Source flows the One Power. Those who have the ability to access the Power are called channelers.

[ She's picking over her words carefully, in the manner of someone who's never had to explain this before. ]

It can be used for great good -- or for great destruction, in the wrong hands.

[ Moiraine pauses, lifts both her hands, and her fingers move in the very simplest weave she learned as a novice -- one which should produce a ball of light above her fingers. It doesn't happen, and she lets her hands drop with a frustrated exhalation. ]

I can't use it here -- for now. Perhaps someday I will demonstrate.