The Weaving of Wells (Osric's Wand, Book Four) by Jack D. Albrecht Jr., Ashley Delay

trying to affect.
    “It’s got randomy stuffs in it!” Pebble exclaimed. As he set a stone down on the table, another rose the same distance into the air as the one Pebble held was being lowered. He lifted the stone again slightly, and the one hovering above the table began to slowly rotate.
    “What is ‘randomy stuffs’?” Trevar looked over at the plump prairie dog.
    “I meant to say that the charm inside randomizes which magic it pulls from Archana.” He chose his words with great thought. “You shouldn’t learn words from me. I still mess it up ’cause I’m young and rush my talking when I get excited.”
    Trevar weighed the words with a bit more thought than was required. “Big ones like your talk,” he said with a serious expression.
    “They think I’m cute.” Pebble smiled big.
    “This cute is true. I wish we had you at my home.” Trevar ruffled the hair atop Pebble’s head. “Our you is”—he concentrated—“not soft coat, smell bad, with sharp teeth. They bigger than you. They no speak too.”
    “They say only animals that use magic with intent can speak.” Pebble nodded in understanding.
    “What is intent?” Trevar asked questions like this a lot, but he was more comfortable getting the answers from Pebble. It didn’t feel like a lesson when they were playing together.
    “Intent?” Pebble paused and looked up absent-mindedly. “It means to do things you want to, not just ’cause you got scared or mad.” He scrunched up his furry nose and added, “Or somethin’ like that.”
    “Maybe it would be fun to set these like…” Trevar stood up and scooped the stones into their sack. Then something occurred to him and he changed his direction “Why is putting in sack so easy?” He paused.
    “Dump them and do it again.” Pebble stood up on the tabletop with skeptical eyes.
    Trevar upended the bag and the stones fell out again. They scattered effortlessly and naturally, as if guided by nothing but chance and the smoothed edges against the table’s surface. Pebble held one claw up in the air to tell Trevar to wait a moment as Pebble studied the spells on the stones. After a quick nudge of a rock sent two of the others hovering off of the surface, Pebble indicated that Trevar should collect them again. Once again, the rocks slid easily back into their bag.
    “Super clever!” Pebble motioned for Trevar to give him the bag of stones.
    “You see how the trick is?”
    “I think so.” Pebble took the bag and dumped it out. “But I need a hat.”
    He took the bag and turned around with a mischievous smile. When he spun back, the bag sat atop his head, tied by the strap under his chin. He smiled and bowed while Trevar laughed.
    “You look like juggler man.”
    “I’m not a good juggler, but I like tossing rocks in the lake.” Pebble picked up a few stones and skipped them lightly across the long part of the table. They slipped harmlessly, bounced off of the wall at the end, and scattered naturally based on the direction of the throw. “And I like to play catch.”
    Trevar flinched as Pebble tossed another rock toward him. Surprisingly, the rock arrived on target and would have been caught if it weren’t for the fact that Trevar hadn’t expected it to do so. He giggled with glee that the puzzle had been solved so quickly, and then attempted to toss the stone back—it diverted left and another slid off of the table, adhering itself to the blade of the axe by the wood pile in the corner.
    “You got it!”
    “Yup.” Pebble smiled. “Touching the bag takes away the random. Here, you try it.” He took the bag off of his head and brought it to the edge of the table, handing it to Trevar.
    “I have idea. This is what I was to do, before.” Trevar smiled, taking the bag and gathering all but one of the stones in his hand. He dispersed the stones throughout the room, placing them in odd locations: on bookshelves, under bowls, propping a book up, or buried under a pile of sticks.