There were plenty of people who wouldn't consider it magic. It was hardly flashy, no shining colors of the Gift, no otherworldly eeriness of the Doi seers, no dramatic bloody rituals like the Scanrans and even the Bazhir had. Whether it worked or failed, nobody noticed. Not really. It smacked of superstition, and trickery.
Sometimes, he thought that was all it was.
But, Thom reflected as he crafted the tiny charm for his sister, when you had lost your Gift and all you had left was the luck that had allowed you to scrape through by the skin of your teeth, you found ways to spread that luck around.