“He even gave me a book,” Malden said, and reached inside his tunic to bring it out. “I can’t read the title, but it must be worth a fair handful of silver.” He examined the small volume and admired the snug binding, the gilt lettering on the spine. He put a thumb inside the cover and started to open it, intending only to look and see if the contents were in the same alphabet as the title.

“He just gave it t’ye?” Kemper asked, his eyes suddenly suspicious.

“Well, yes,” Malden said. “He was so impressed by— Blast!” He dropped the book to the table, where it fell open, facedown. A tiny droplet of blood welled up on his thumb. “I cut myself on the paper,” he said. A second drop appeared on his flesh, and he stared at the wound. It didn’t look like a paper cut. It looked like a rat bite.

“Lad,” Kemper said, jumping away from the table. “Lad!”

The book was crawling across the table. It arched its back—its spine—and pushed itself along the scarred wood with its pages like a slug. It was headed for a sausage on a plate and left a trail of drool or slime behind it as it moved.

“He tried to kill me,” Malden exclaimed, jumping out of his chair. “I went in there to give him a friendly warning, and he tried to kill me.” He watched the book move for a moment, fascinated by its silent slithering. Then he drew his bodkin and brought the point down hard through the cover of the book. The thing flapped and shook for a moment, then a trickle of black ink ran out from underneath its dead pages.

Kemper stood as far from the table as he could get, and refused to come back.

“It’s all right,” Malden said. “I think it’s dead now.”

Kemper shook his head in distaste. “I’m glad I never larnt t’read,” he said.

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Malden said as he cut a slice of the sausage and popped it in his mouth. He kept one eye on the predatory book, not unafraid it would rise again and come for him once more. “Before, I had nothing against the sorcerer. I was only going to break into his house because I had to.”

“An’ now?” Kemper asked.

“Now I’ll be happy to take this bastard down a peg. Kemper, tell me—how did you make out? When the barrier spell came down, did you get inside?”

“Aye, son, aye,” Kemper said. “An’ none as saw me either. Let me tell ye what I found.”

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty

Kemper had been reluctant to help Malden in his reconnaissance of Hazoth’s villa, yet he admitted he owed Malden a significant debt. Had Malden not rescued him from the Burgrave’s dungeon, he would have been tortured to death.