"When I was growing up, my father told stories of pacifiers and baby bottles flying around and hitting him in the face." Sunila answered with a chuckle. "He was exaggerating. I was older than that. I was about four years old when I first started making things move and eight by the time I was really good at it."
Sunila squeezed his hand gently and watched his face carefully, worried that frustration might lead him to dark emotions. The pull of the dark side could be very strong, even in the temple. She blamed the spire. She glanced at the pepper mill and then back to him. "There. That was you. How do you feel?"