Of Caverns and Casters ✓ [TLRQ #1]

Chapter 44 - Leavi

I shiver underneath his stare but return my attention to my experiment and unwrap the little black book.

"Hello..." The whispered sound echoes in the wind, one voice overlaying another and another and continuing on over the sea of treetops.

I drop the book, and there's immediate silence, as though someone slammed a door inside my ears. I glance around, but the only other living soul out here is the nightbird, still sitting, still watching. My mind doesn't know how to believe it, but my senses all understand—it's the book. It came from the book.

"Be rational," I scold. "Books don't talk." But neither does anything else out here, and my words sound shaky even to me. I take a deep breath and pick the object back up.

"Well, that was rude..." the voices chorus.

This time I manage to keep my grip. "What are you?" I whisper, my breath frosting in the air.

It's as if the wind-words all turn and confer with one another. The sounds are muffled, whispered. Then they breathe, "We are the Book..."

Words evade me until finally, I manage, "How?"

A light, rustling laugh echoes through the tree branches. They're mocking me. "We just are."

"I'm losing my mind. A book. I'm talking to a book."

They sigh like a hundred bored librarians. "You're not Aster. What are you doing, girl? Are you planning to cast?"

Desperately trying to clear my head, I shake it, black locks tumbling around my face. "No. I'm planning on performing an experiment." This I say more to myself than to the voices in my head, but they still laugh at me.

"Then we fear you're in the wrong place."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"We help with casting, not research."

They still seem derisive, as if they find my attempts childish. Somewhere in the back of my mind, it suddenly occurs to me that they're speaking my language, not Avadelian. A growing unease fills my stomach. "This can't be real."

"Believe what you like. But if you're not planning on casting, could you return the Book to its owner? We don't want it to get lost."

"I'm not going to lose you!" I protest.

Tinkling laughter.

I pull my hair up, trying to gather my wits. "Just do what you came out here to do," I murmur to myself. I stand, scooping water into Aster's bowl from the barrel Jacin keeps filled on the porch. Returning to my spot, I open the powder bag.

"What are you trying to cast?"

"I think he said it was 'scry,'" I answer distractedly. Imaginary or not, the voices don't seem to be going away.

"Scrying," they correct.

This time I ignore them, focusing on sprinkling the powder into the water like he had.

"Here..." Suddenly, the book flips page after page, coming to rest on one crowded with foreign words. My jaw drops. That had to be the wind.

"Say this..."

The first word lights with a golden glow, and I gasp.

The voices sound impatient. "We're waiting, young lady."

Experiment, I remind myself. This is just an experiment.

My lips struggle to find the right sound of the word, and the voices help.