such a book as this.”
Hectore was watching his servant with narrowed eyes. The look was frank and assessing; it was not accompanied by words.
“Is it sentient?” Avandar asked.
“Were it, I think its effects would now be known—but I cannot be certain. ATerafin, when did this particular volume come into your possession?”
“Six weeks ago. I have handled it,” he continued. “I have even taken some notes about the use of language. I am, at best, an indifferent scholar; I have the curiosity, but not the leisure to devote to ancient tongues.”
“And yet this book was offered to you.”
“It was offered, yes. The proprietor of Avram’s is aware only of my interest in books; many of his clients who profess such an interest don’t quibble about simple things like language.”
Six weeks. Six weeks, Jewel thought. “After I took the House.”
“After your acclamation as Terafin, yes. You understand the significance.”
She nodded. “Avandar, why do you feel the book is of significance? Andrei wished to have Teller’s desk removed, and you didn’t blink an eye.”
“The nature of the magic makes it suspect. The possible age of the volume. Books such as these were created for the use of the powerful; they were seldom created to be repositories of knowledge for future generations. What words you might find therein were not meant merely to enlighten, although any number of harmless words might be added after the fact.
“There were two known incidents of diaries being thus enchanted. They were meant to exert influence, and, Terafin, they did. If the reader was not careful, the life lived in those pages, the handwriting read, might grow to become as visceral as the reader’s own memories; the reader might forget the events of his own life, and become embroiled, instead, in the life of the scribe—as if the reader were actually living them.
“It was seldom that such volumes were given to mortals.”
“Mortals being easily rendered powerless in other ways?”
“Indeed.” Avandar fell silent.
“They were not easily created. Among other things,” Andrei continued, not taking his eyes off the book’s unremarkable spine, “they required the hides of a variety of creatures to be effective. The hides were cured, dried, flattened, and bound into the book as pages—while their donors still lived. It was a requirement of the magics involved. Enchantments can, as you are aware, be laid upon the inanimate. They can less trivially be laid upon the living. But when they are laid upon the living, they are at their most potent when there is cooperation between the being and the enchanter.
“Where there is no cooperation, the enchantments are of a different nature. But even then, they are more potent where there is life. Thus, books such as this.”
“Avandar—can you see what, about this book, made Andrei so certain it’s—whatever he thinks it is?”
“I would not, to my chagrin, have noticed were it not for his attention; I would not have thought to notice. Guildmaster Mellifas might notice, if she brought the whole of her attention to bear.”
“Meralonne?”
“Yes. I think he would. Shall I fetch him?”
Jewel closed her eyes. “I don’t think that will be necessary,” she said softly. “He is in the heart of my forest, near the tree of fire.”
“You can see him?”
She couldn’t. But she didn’t doubt the peculiar sense of certainty. Nor did she doubt, as she concentrated on the mercurial House Mage, that he would answer a summons that no one else—not even she—could hear.
* * *
Teller signed. Jewel hesitated, and then signed in response. She turned to the Chosen to ask them to leave with the right-kin. They agreed, but made clear that they would be back—with reinforcements. “We do not need reinforcements,” she told them. “Patris Araven?”
“I will accompany the right-kin; if he does not wish to be in his own rooms for the duration of this procedure, I do not feel it is my place to insist upon remaining. Terafin?”
“I’m staying. Allow me to see you back to the great room.”
* * *
Torvan and Arrendas arrived with Gordon and Marave. She considered demoting them both. “Avandar and Andrei will be in the room; Avandar will not allow Hectore’s servant to do anything that will be dangerous in any way to either me or my House. Teller and Hectore will be in the great room; I would like you to remain with them.”
“Are you going to be in the great room, Terafin?” Torvan said, stepping forward as if to draw the brunt of her growing ire down upon only his own head.
“I will