"Of course, Father." I couldn't help the indulgent sound in my voice. He gave me a sharp look, but it quickly devolved into his usual, gregarious smile. He downed the rest of his liquor, winked at me and then melted into the press of bodies. I waited several moments, and when I could no longer see his signature crimson and orange attire, I turned my attention back to the bundle. The cover was a reddish leather, that was tooled in some intricate design. I raised it to my lips to taste, but I still could not divine what skin provided its protection. Strange. I noticed that while moving through these shadows with Father, he was taking me away into wilder and more peculiar areas. I could no longer place the scent and taste of every animal. What was shadow coming to?
"You're not supposed to eat the book, darlin'. If'n you're hungry, I can fetch up some fine victuals. The best." A rough-handed bartender, whose breath served as advertisement for his wares, leered at me with greed in his eyes and contempt in his tone. How Father could stand to consume anything served from his hands, I could not fathom. I lowered my...what did he call it? Ah, yes...I lowered my book and growled at the little man until he backed off in confusion, spilling a vile combination of alcohol on the bar's surface as he did so. I then looked around for a quieter, cleaner environment in which to study my new acquisition.
The establishment had a dance floor that was filled with wild, dark people thrashing in time to strange, staccato music. The gaming tables were equally busy, and the curtained booths on the far side seemed designed for something other than solitary reflection. I realized I would either have to pursue my studies at the bar or spend time in the kitchen with the hired help. Well, I reasoned, at least there would be a hearth to warm my blood if I went to the kitchens. I waited until one of the serving women came by with an unladened tray and followed her back to the preparation area. She turned around to protest as I entered with her, but I bared my fangs and she fell silent, wisely choosing to finish her duties rather than argue with me. I settled on the heated stone and folded back the cover of my...book.
The interior was made of a thinner, less durable material than the cover, and as I held it to the fire to study it closer, it began to singe and turn black, giving off a strange, unpleasant odor. How odd that Father would give me something so flimsy without any warning of its delicacy. Quickly, I pulled it away from the glowing embers, and adjusted my sight so that I could view it in the dim light of the kitchen. I flicked through the thin extrusions, tearing one slightly. Nothing this weak would ever survive the deserts of Charrae! Silently, I toyed with the idea of destroying it...but no, there must be some purpose for this book, I just had to discover what it was. Determinedly, I set out to find it.
The material was covered with tiny little...runes, symbols, scratches...I wasn't certain what they were. They flowed across the book in a steady stream, grouping together usually, but occasionally standing alone. There was a rhythm to the symbols, some beat that was just out of my comprehension. Frustrated, I extended my mind into the runes, attempting to ascertain their purpose. Aunt S'bella, who was the Mistress of Majiks in my mother's court, had spent years drilling signs of power into my head and perfecting my ability to recognize new ones. I did not wish to dishonor her teachings, but try as I might, I could not find the familiar stirrings of magic in any of these symbols. They were a grouping of homogenous, null scratchings. What did it mean? I began to growl in frustration, but stopped when I heard the serving women dropping platters in their haste to leave. I was forever frightening serving wenches!
I needed a new approach to the problem this book represented. I set it down beside me on the hearth, and turned to stare into the flames. The fire glowed a pale orange, a dull shade compared to the vibrant lava flows of my homeland, but sufficient for a seeking trance. I stared into the fire, letting the symbols roll through the lattices of my mind, flowing through the embers, seeking some connection to what I knew. The flame surged hotly, and a connection forged in my mind, bringing forth a brief snippet of conversation between mother and S'bella. Last season, there had been a discussion of the arcane theories to be taught to the sorcerers of the land. Mother, with her more expansive knowledge of shadowlands, had brought up the known ebbing of magic in other realms, and how that should be incorporated into general instruction. The subject was eventually deemed impractical considering our state of war and the short life span of warrior mages, but it made sense in light of what was happening here. A book of runes in an unmagical shadow! Of course! What else could it be! Father had given me symbols of power to learn in a safe environment. Excitedly, I turned from the flame and began to memorize the book.
The next couple of hours were a blur, spent in furious concentration. I covered each surface of the book, repeating the symbols in my mind until I knew I could call them forth at will. Father would be proud. As if thoughts of him drew him near, I heard his voice outside the kitchen door, asking a serving wench for my whereabouts. "Yes, Sire, she's in the kitchen, reading."
Reading? Is that what they called this exercise? I added another word to my growing lexicon. Hurriedly, I finished memorizing the last surface just as Father entered the kitchen, looking more relaxed than I had seen him in days. "Well, Helias, ready to go?"
"Yes, Father. I've finished...reading." His approving nod made the last few hours of hard work disappear. Together, we set out for shadow and for Amber.