“Some people will do anything for a sale,” remarked Caleb wryly. “But it’s a wonderful story. Thank you for telling me.”
Elinor rose. “I enjoyed the telling, and the tea. The legends surrounding this place and the Ellyllon have always held a special appeal for me. But now I must be going, lest Benson send out a search party for me.”
Carrádog strolled over to them, and received a pet from Elinor, then wandered amongst the shelves. Caleb had risen and was about to usher her out, when the dog gave an odd woof.
They looked at each other.
“Perhaps he needs to…um…go out?” Elinor looked at Caleb.
“I don’t know. Where is he?”
“Down by the last row of shelves, I think?”
They walked together to the very end of the room, and there was Carrádog, standing quite still, his body tense, his nose pointing to the end of the row.
“What is it, my friend?” Caleb gently touched his shoulder.
“Wuff,” the dog snuffled quietly.
“He doesn’t seem afraid or angry,” said Elinor. “Perhaps there’s something at the end of this row he sees…” she glanced at Caleb. “Will you stay with him while I take a quick look?”
“All right,” he nodded. “But for Heaven’s sake don’t scream if it’s a mouse. I doubt my heart could take it.”
She snorted, shot him a sceptical glance and strolled away.
The shadows were growing between the shelves, and the afternoon light barely made it to the end, but when she got there…nothing. Nothing at all.
Sighing, she was about to let Caleb know it had been a fool’s errand when something caught her eye.
A very large, and obviously ancient, tome standing directly next to her on the very last shelf, was beginning to glow.
“What the…”
Elinor felt the hairs rise at the back of her neck as she obeyed some sort of impulse and reached for it.
“Pick me up, Elinor.” The whisper was loud and clear, as was Carrádog’s soft bark as he quietly moved up beside her.
Almost without realising it, she reached out her hand and touched it. Warm, enticing, it seemed to urge her to take it from the shelf,now,take me…open me…read me…
Helpless to withstand the strange entreaties, her fingers curled around the spine and edges of the old book, and she slid it from the shelf into her arms.
“Caleb,” she whispered, “Caleb…I cannot…”
Carrádog’s nose touched her hand.
And her world went black.
*~~*~~*
“Now then, Miss Elinor, are you sure you’re feeling better this morning?”
“Yes, Jane dear. Really. I am quite sure. I’ve been quite sure since I arrived home two days ago.”
“Well now, having a fainting spell is not like you, and I know I don’t have to tell you that,” replied Jane, a worried frown still creasing her eyebrows.
“It wasn’t really a fainting spell,” Elinor protested again. “I was merely dizzy for a few moments and tripped over Sir Caleb’s dog.”
“Hmph.” Jane shook her head. “A strange story, to be sure.”
