He was a child when he first learned of his gifts. He didn't call it magic then; he didn't call it anything. He believed such power common; he thought he was like everyone else.

It let him see what others were feeling. The gift was an enabler; it gave him insight. He discovered that frequently he could sense things in people without being told - changes in their mood and character, emotions they thought to keep secret.

...

"I have trouble believing anyone just at the moment," he offered lamely.

"You have trouble believing anyone at any time," he snapped, unappeased. "You cast your heart in iron long ago. You stopped believing in anything. I remember when that wasn't so."

He trailed off, and the room went silent.