"He's a mongrel," Cayn said, his smile vicious as he pulled the chair over to near her bed, sitting in it carefully as he regarded her.  "Think nothing of it.  He has no aptitude for magic.  The only reason he's kept around is the shapeshifters are hard to kill.  Very little will do the job.  Silver, fire, and acid.  If he goes for you, use one of the three.  Hence my little pyrotechnic display."  He would hold out the book, offering it to her.  "An old book of minor spells.  I've already cast a spell upon it to allow them to be readable by you.  The original language is demonic in origin."<br/><br/>A pause as he let her take the book.  "These are small things.  A few may be damaging to people, but for the most part these are the building blocks.  Words that hold power, similar to runes in a sense, and behind that comes your magical will.  You need to focus on the words as you say them to channel the spell's magic through your body.  One of these spells gives you a minor telekinetic ability.  Nothing more than a few pounds, but useful when you don't feel like bending over to pick up the blanket you've thrown on the floor."<br/><br/>As if to press the point, he'd take one of her pillows and drop it to the floor.  "Find the spell," he said.  "And try to cast it.  The pillow is your target."