"Stop him? Of course. As to the magic, that's not a problem," Sanders waved his hand dismissively.
"What?" Anaisa turned to stare at the man. "What do you mean?"
He seemed to weigh his answer, fingers tapping idly on his chin. "How do I explain this? Long have I watched. Many years, every night I have seen magic users. Doing good, doing ill, being self-serving, or remaining somewhat absent from my vision by neglecting to use the powers given to them for the good of the world."
His eyes cut to Trace, who frowned. Anaisa wondered at it, but she didn't ask. Something in Sanders' voice was beginning to bother her.
