The lawyer Grandpa invited was young. Like my age or something. I stared at him with suspicion.
I doubt the capabilities of people my age. Most of my classmates are morons.
"Are you sure he isn't too young?" I whispered to Grandpa, as the lawyer was collecting his documents.
"Oh, don't worry," Grandpa said, loudly. "Mr. Masarn is a lot more experienced than he looks."
I looked at the lawyer again, trying to see what I missed. With his surname, he must be a light mage. Or maybe one of those non-magicals born into magical families.
I looked at him, my eyes switching to magical vision. No, he was a mage. With some practice (after Grandpa made me sit in the public park and look at people), I'd learned to distinguish mages from uninitiated arall and magicals from non-magicals. The auras of
