Rastaban tilted his head to one side quizzically. “I am unfamiliar with your kind of magic, however. Perhaps sometime you’ll show me.”
“Does everyone in this camp have magic?” Andrev asked. Please, he begged, let me not be the only one.
Rastaban shook his head. “No. Magic is a rare gift. But here we embrace it. And you are the son of no demon - whoever’s son you are, your sire was powerful.” He smiled. “Now, aren’t you meant to be playing the pipe for a certain girl right about now?”
Andrev heard the drums and cursed, scooped up his pipe.
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