“I have no idea, High Lord,” the wizard answered the unasked question. “I brought the books to you exactly as I found them. I have not tampered with them; I have not attempted to open them. I know from the markings on the covers that they are the missing books of magic. Beyond that, I know no more than you.” He cleared his throat officiously. “I … thought it proper that you be present when I opened them.”

“You thought it proper, did you?” Abernathy growled, hairy face shoving into view. He looked ridiculous in his nightcap. “What you mean is you thought it safer! You wanted the power of the medallion close at hand in case this magic proved to be too much for you!”

Questor stiffened. “I have significant magic of my own, Abernathy, and I assure you that …”

“Never mind, Questor,” Ben cut him short. “You did the right thing. Can you open the books?”

Questor was rigid with indignation by now. “Of course I can open the books! Here!”

He stepped forward, hands hovering over the first of the aged tomes. Ben moved back, his own hands closing on the medallion. There was no point in taking any chances with this sort of …

Questor touched the fastenings, and green fire spit sharply from the metal. Everyone jumped back quickly.

“It would appear that you have underestimated the danger of the situation once again!” Abernathy snapped.

Questor flushed, and his face tightened. His hands came up sharply, sparked, then came alive with a fire of their own—a brilliant crimson fire. He brought his fire down slowly to the metal fastenings, then held it there as it slowly devoured the green fire. Then he brushed his hands together briskly, and both fires were gone.

He gave Abernathy a scornful look. “A rather insignificant measure of danger, wouldn’t you say?”

He reached again for the fastenings and pulled the metal clasp free. Slowly he opened the book to the first page. Aging yellow parchment stared back at him. There was nothing there.

Ben, Abernathy, and Bunion pressed forward about him, peering down through the shadows and half-light. The page was still empty. Questor thumbed to the second page. It was empty as well. He thumbed to the third. Empty.

The fourth page was empty, too, but its center was seared slightly as if held too close to a flame.

“I believe it was you who used the word insignificant, wizard?” Abernathy goaded.

Questor did not reply. There was a stunned look on his face. Slowly he began to leaf through the book, turning one blank page after another, finding each sheet of yellowed parchment empty, but increasingly seared. Finally pages began to appear that were burned through entirely.

He thumbed impulsively to the very center of the book and stopped.

“High Lord,” he said softly.

Ben peered downward at the ruin that lay open before him. A fire had burned the center of the book to ashes, but it was as if the fire had somehow been ignited from within.