Demetrios believed the mouth and words that came from Vallacor's spellbook
were simply a magic mouth spell and ignored it, examining
the book..
"What, are you deaf?" cried the book. "Wrong language? Vuldrog got your tongue? I said, get your damned, dirty hands off of me! Don't make me bite you, tomb robber."
"Hmm, interesting," said Demetrios, clinically. "This doesn't seem to be a preset
magic mouth spell."
"What exactly are you? And do you have a name?"
"Ah. So you can speak. But you're not too bright, are you? I am a book. I have a spine, pages and a cover. Interesting things in between. Presuming your skills run beyond mere thievery to, say, reading?"
"A name," it continued, "...er...no. I was never given one. My master is not much of a conversationalist. He is, however, terrifyingly deadly, thanks in large part to me. I really would run along quickly, if I were you. He might only kill you if you're fleeing when he catches you. Believe me when I tell you that the alternatives are considerably less pleasant."
"Yes, I can read...and quite well in fact." Demetrios reached in and
picked up the talking book. "As for your master, he was both terrifying and deadly. But no more."
As Demetrios reached for the book, a small, brilliant arc of electricity emanating from the book
struck him. "Hey! Something wrong with your ears? I said paws off! Damned kid!"
Demetrios yanked his hand back from the electricity. "Whoa! Hey, I'm not trying to hurt you! I hate to tell you this, but your master isn't coming for you. Now I'm just trying to bring you out of that dirty hole so we can talk better. I'm sure it can't be very nice down in there."
"Hmph," the book replied succinctly. "That I can do for myself, though I suppose I have you to thank for removing the stone."
Whereupon the book sprouted spider-like legs, scuttleed up out of the hole and
swiveled, as though looking around. Seeing the ruin of the room and the countless bones strewn casually around, it
sagged, as if sighing.
"I see that you hairless apes remain very good at one thing: destruction."
It scuttled towards a large torture rack and clambered up onto its horrid top, from whence it
turned to address Demetrios again.
"Alright, I'll grant that you seem to have overpowered my master. In addition to your obvious propensity for thoughtless violence and looting, you must have some skill. What is it you want? Money? Power? Women? Those are the usual, I believe."
Demetrios started to answer the book, but hesitated momentarily at the mention of women. Shaking his head, he quickly
recovered and spoke. "Actually, knowledge is better. We must continue in this place, so having someone who knows anything about the area is invaluable to us."
A flash of black swooped right in front of Demetrios and landed at the foot of the rack.
Demetrios's raven peered at the book, then back at the wizard. As always,
he was ready with a quip. "Gee, what is it with you and finding things that talk? First a dagger, now a book? You looking for better conversation than that serving girl of yours?"
"Unless by 'surrounding area'," said the book, acidly,
"you mean a hole in the floor, I can not help you with that. And I did not say that I could actually help you with any of that; I'm just curious as to your ultimate motivation. I wonder what would be worth the eternal wrath of an undying wizard?"
"Listen. You seem like a bright kid. Maybe if you start running now you can get far enough away that you can live out your life before he finds you."
"Say, your presence here must mean that the 'Warrens are open. And that means... Kid I hope there isn't anyone or anything you care about nearby."
"That's right," said Demetrios. "The Banewarrens are indeed open. In fact, that's why we're here. We're going to close them. And personally, I do think you can help us. Your master was pretty powerful, but I think a lot of his power came from you. I'd like to be able to study the information inside of you. We're headed out of the Banewarrens now to try and save one of our fallen friends. Come with us. You must be sick of this place after 3000 years...plus, I promise the
conversation will be better.
"Maybe you're right, kid. But Vallacor will come back for me, you can bet on that. If he does, I'm going to tell him you took me against my will."
"I understand that you have no recourse if he gets his hands on you, but maybe it doesn't have to come to that. Do you know where he kept his Phylactery?"
"No. He was private and intensely paranoid. He spoke of his plans, all ruined when his master was slain and the Banewarrens sealed. He spoke of the beauty of death, and cursed the fates which returned him to unlife, but he never spoke of a phylactery. But I wonder if there is one. He did not choose undeath - it chose him. I do not know that he had the foresight as a living man to create one."
"So what's the world like out there? Three thousand years? Really? I slept so much of the time. Not that I saw it then, either.
Vallacor...didn't get out much."
"I would assume that it is far different than that of 3000 years
ago," Demetrios said. "It's a thriving place with many cities. I think you will find it worth the journey."
"It doesn't have to be much to improve on a dark hole in the floor. I'll go. But kid, there's a price. I'm a spellbook - that's all I am. And nothing has changed for me in a long, long time. You want the old stuff? I want some new stuff. In clean, new ink. And I don't want to be stuffed away on some dusty shelf, either."
"It's a deal. Besides, I wouldn't dream of putting a book like you on a shelf. Now come on, I'll carry you to the surface."
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