Drawing Out the Boy

“You told him you have magic?” Kana asked. She and Rastaban sat by the fire long after the others had gone to sleep.

Kana glanced over her shoulder toward the small pallet of furs were Andrev made his bed, still on the border between two camps, two worlds.

“What else would you call it?” Rastaban asked.

“A gift that’s certainly not magic,” Kana said.

“You have magic, I have gifts - I didn’t want to overcomplicate things,” Rastaban said.

“What’s your plan, then?” Kana was slowly unfastening the yards of silk and coins.

“Draw the boy out - see what he’s got.”