them to send inconsequential missives to our sister planets for the sheer thrill of mastering the distance between stars--we command them to move cargos of vulgar literature and retrieve items of no importance from other realms. How can we all have forgotten that they are holy? The fault lies with so-called Sourcerors. (blah blah)
A great scholar of Ta-yra studied for many years to understand the meaning beneath the meaning of the words of the Sages. Every year they begged their master to teach them of the Chariot, but they were gray already by the time their master allowed them to learn. When the time came that their own students begged to learn of the Chariot, they thought--I am old now. I scarcely have time to scratch the surface of the Mysteries before I must depart. How great could my students become, how deeply could they penetrate the Mysteries of the Chariot, if they began now while they are young? And so they taught their students of the Mysteries. Several years later they went to another city to visit their sister. When they returned, a funeral procession was going through the streets. They asked one of the mourners--who has died? The mourner replied--Great One, all of your students have died! The scholar realized that the moment their discipline did not restrain their students, the students acted with the brashness of youth and delved too deeply. The scholar fell to the ground dead from grief.
The master is the first generation of so-called Sourcerors, each learned in Ta-yra and believing they acted for the good of all. The students are the lay people who command angels for frivolous purposes. The Council of Kings has declared an Angelic Age, commanding their scholars to find ever more ways to exploit the Angels of the Name--they forget Ta-yra and remember only gold. And their students never learn Ta-yra at all, they only learn of gold. Those who say human-