“What was that?” asked Fern, whiskers twitching nervously.
Satchel sighed, a feat he accomplished even without lungs. “The Lady’s warning. She knows when something is withdrawn. The book calls to her.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” cried Viv, but when he gazed back at her with those cold blue eyes, the answer was obvious.
“He has to protect the Lady’s secrets,” whispered Fern, then shouted, “Put it the fuck back!”
An avaricious flinch made Viv’s grip tighten on the hilt, and light seemed to drip along the keen edge of the blade, like sap down a tree trunk. “I don’t think that’s going to help any,” she protested.
“Maybe not, but what if it’s cursed, or… or… I don’t know. Evil?”
Viv snorted. “It’s a sword. A damnedgoodsword.” But really, she didn’t want to admit how much the blade called to her, how veryrightit felt in her hands, and how loath she was to part with it. Besides, there was a more pressing issue, as far as she was concerned. “What weshouldbe worried about is the book. Can she find this, Satchel? Can she tell where itis?”
“I cannot—”
“You cannot say,” sighed Viv. “Yeah, that sounds like a solidmaybeto me.”
“We could destroy it?” suggested Fern. “Although the idea of burning a book… eventhisone…”
“You mustnot,” said Satchel, his hollow voice suddenly booming. The inscriptions along his bones bloomed with blue light, which faded almost as soon as it had appeared.
They both startled at the force of his admonition and shared a worried glance.
“Besides,” said Viv, “imagine what else might be in there.When Rackam and the rest do away with Varine…” She trailed off. “Maybe money wouldn’t be a problem anymore for your bookshop, you know?”
Fern wrinkled her nose and looked thoughtful at the same time. Viv could tell she was considering it. The rattkin surveyed the shambles of the shop’s interior: the stacked books, the wrapped parcels, the barely filled shelves. She dropped her paws to her sides, and exhaustion seemed to suddenly overcome her. “What do we do with it, though? We can’t keep the gods-damned thinghereand hope that nothing goes wrong. Not now.”
Viv reluctantly admitted, “There’s really only one thing that makes sense.”
“It’s Varine’s?” asked Iridia, examining the book with narrowed eyes. She ran her finely scaled hand across the surface, feeling the tracery of glyphs at the edges.
“Our mysterious stranger hid it in the bookshop. I think he stole it from her.”
“And you know this how?”
Viv flipped back the cover. Iridia calmly regarded the exposed black page.
“They’re portals to an underspace,” she said. “Like a treasure vault, or something.”
Viv dipped a hand into the blackness and immediately pulled it back out.
The tapenti hissed an indrawn breath and glanced sharply at the orc. “Anunderspace?”
“That’s what Fern called it. She, uh, reads about this sortof thing. There are hundreds of them.” Viv turned the pages. “They contain, um… various things.”
“A fascinating object. Undoubtedly valuable. And yet I don’t see how you can be sure it’shers.”
“No chance I can convince you that I can tell by the smell?”
Iridia chuckled throatily.
Viv didn’t take that as an affirmative. She scratched the back of her neck. “Look, I might have pulled something out, and then… well, I think there’s a sort of alarm? It’spossibleVarine may know I took something, and, uh, maybe even where it is right now. Potentially.Maybe.”
“And whatdidyou take from it?”
“Nothing she needs.” She hurried onward. “Anyway, I figured the best thing for it was to keep the book someplace protected.” She met Iridia’s gaze steadily. “Maybe locked up here.”
“So what you’re saying is that you’d like to store a potentially dangerous object, which is of immense value to an even more dangerous necromancer, here. In my offices.”
