Realms of Magic - Brian Thomsen King [92]
Her suspicions proved correct when she entered the library. It was a small room-cold, damp, and musty. Sheets covered the furniture, and the books were layered with dust.
Teza wasted no time. She knew the book she needed was tan-colored, fairly large, and labeled with a wizard's rune on the spine. Silently she ran her eyes along the shelves lining the walls, along row after row of old manuscripts, scrolls, and bound books. Half an hour later, she found the one she wanted, crammed on a bottom shelf beneath a stack of moldy vellum sheets.
Teza pulled it out and nearly dropped it in surprise. It was much heavier than she had expected and was bound with something much smoother and softer to the touch than leather. She hefted it. It seemed to be the right book. It had the sigil on the spine and the tan-colored binding. It must have belonged to a wizard at one time, but what was it doing here, and what was so important about it that someone would pay to have it stolen?
Teza tried to open it, but discovered something else very odd. Someone had attached hair to the book from top to bottom along both edges of the cover. The hair was then braided, tying the book closed to casual view. The braid lay soft under Teza's fingers, as soft and fine as human hair.
Without quite knowing why, Teza grew angry. She began to have the feeling Rafbit had not told her everything she ought to know about this book. She tucked the tome under her arm and fled noiselessly back the way she had come, to the cavern where the aughisky waited for her.
She had planned to meet Rafbit and his customer before dawn, but first, she told the water horse to take her to her bolt-hole. The hole, nothing more than an abandoned shack at the edge of the city, was her hiding place in time of need. Obediently, the aughisky carried her to the old hut. As she dismounted, he neighed impatiently and slammed his hoof on the frozen ground. Teza knew the signs. He was hungry.
"Wait," she asked. "I will be quick. Then you may go."
Carrying the book, she slipped into the old shack. Her cold fingers fumbled with the flint and steel over a lamp she had left there. When the flame was burning, the woman laid the book on her lap and carefully began to unbraid the hair. In the light, she could see now the hair was red, a deep coppery hue that gleamed in the lamplight. Softly it flowed through her fingers until the book fell open on her knees.
Teza stared in delight. Full-length illustrations, beautifully illuminated with delicate traceries, bold colors, and bright gold leaf, covered each page. There were no words or letters or even runes, only exquisitely detailed pictures.
Teza turned the thick pages to the beginning. She could not read, yet she did not have to to understand the story. The pictures portrayed a romance between a lovely red-haired woman and a dark-haired, serious-looking young man. They met in a garden of peonies and roses, and the illustrations continued their tale in a series of scenes from a dance, a hunt, and a picnic, as the couple's passion grew deeper.
Then the atmosphere of the pictures changed. The drawings became harsher; the colors shifted to hues of red and black; the expression on the lovers' faces turned to anger and sadness.
Teza sat enthralled by the drama unfolding on her lap. She was so engrossed, she did not immediately notice what began to happen. As she studied one picture of the man and the woman in a gloomy room, the figures shifted slightly on the page. The man's face turned down into a scowl, and the woman took a step back.
Teza suddenly gaped. Before her eyes the small painting of the man strode forward and viciously backhanded the woman. She fell backward against a stone wall.