Page 172 of A Tower of Half-Truths
“All of these have been transmutated,” he said. “I could try upstairs—”
“That’ll take too long. Bring me my Compendium. It’s inside my pack.”
Mavery resumed stroking the creature’s fur. His body was less stiff, a few degrees warmer. But he was still too close to death for her liking.
Alain handed her the bundle of papers. She ripped off the front page.
“All right, I have paper,” she whispered to the creature. “What do I need to do?”
One of his front paws twitched—a movement so subtle, she almost missed it entirely. She pressed the paper to the pad of his foot and held it there. The paper turned black and shriveled, as though it had been set on fire. And then it faded into the same dark mist she’d already seen countless times within this tower. The air smelled of smoldering wood and damp soil.
“Amazing,” Alain breathed. “The book-eating demons weren’t simply folktales.”
Mavery didn’t have the presence of mind to debate whetherwhat the creature was doing counted aseating. Though his breaths were less shallow, she knew he still teetered precariously on the edge between life and death.
“More,”his voice echoed through her mind.
She ripped out another page and repeated the process. Then another page, until she was ripping out full sections of her Compendium at a time. Gone were the herbalism field guides, the illustrations of healing spell rituals, the biographies of ancient wizards. They all turned to black vapor, but she was too focused on her task to mourn the loss.
With every scrap of paper the creature consumed, a bit more of his life force returned, his wounds stitched back together more quickly. A cloud of thick, dark arcana formed above them.
She gave the beast the final pages—the incantations Alain had written during her lessons—and all that remained in her hand was the thread she’d used to bind her Compendium together. She was preparing herself to ask Alain to fetch more books when the beast opened his eyes. Red irises gleamed in the Ethereal light and met her gaze.
“Where is the one who killed me?”
“Don’t worry,” she said softly. “He’s long gone.”
“And his staff of thunder?”
“Staff of…? Oh, you mean his gun. Also long gone.”
The beast slowly raised his head, then rolled from his side to his stomach. Mavery moved back—not out of fear, but to give him more space. Though his final words had been fueled by anger, they hadn’t been directed at her. She couldn’t say the same about Alain. The beast looked behind Mavery’s shoulder and at last noticed the other human in the room. He growled; Alain gasped.
“Easy, now,” she said. “He’s a friend.”
The beast continued to eye Alain with suspicion. Alain, to his credit, took a step forward but only made it as far as Mavery’s side when the beast growled again.
“Y-yes,” he sputtered. “You can tell him we’re all friends here.”
“He says—”
“Though the wizard cannot speak with me, I understand him.”
“You understand Osperlandish?”
“Verily, though you and I require no common tongue to communicate. Our arcana connects our thoughts.”
Mavery relayed this to Alain.
“Fascinating,” he said. “And, er, I apologize for bashing you with my staff before.”
The creature tilted its head.“Bashing?”
“It means to hit—” Mavery began.
“I know the meaning of the word. His ‘bashing’ was no more than the nibble of a flea.”
Mavery decided to not repeat that part. The creature raised himself off the floor, rested on his haunches, and looked at Mavery again.
