The man continued. “Now and then we’re all confronted with a new slice of truth, an opportunity that could change everything. The realization that the brick wall in front of us isn’t solid at all, if we only have the guts to run pell-mell into it.”

Billos lowered his knife.

Black smiled. “What do you think, Billy-bong?”

Billos glanced around. “I don’t know . . .”

“Am I good? Or am I evil?”

He thought for a moment and gave the only answer that made any sense to him. “I don’t know.”

Marsuvees Black smiled, teeth white, mouth pink. “I like you, boy. We’re going to get along just fine.”

“Where’s Darsal? The real Darsal?”

“Looking for you, I would guess.”

It made sense. They would all be looking for him. Wondering what had happened to the books. Johnis would be pacing a ditch into the ground, worrying, wondering what Billos knew that they did not.

But Billos didn’t know enough.

“So I suppose you’d like to know what’s happening,” Black said.

“Fair enough, what is happening?”

Black winked. “The million-dollar question.” He interlaced his fingers and cracked his knuckles. “Or should I say the seven-book question, which makes the million-dollar question look like a piece of week-old spinach on the bottom of a boot.”

“Where am I?”

Black paced to his left, eyes still on Billos. “You’re here, in the good old U-S-of-A. Where three of the seven books have gone conveniently missing. Do you know what the books do, Billy? Do you mind if I call you Billy?”

“My name is Billos. And no, I’m not sure I do know what they do.”

The man chuckled. But it was a friendly sound that tempted Billos to grin with him.

“Well, Billos, then let me tell you. It’s high time you know why we sought your help. The books are pure transparency, baby. Reality stripped of rules except those written in the books themselves. The truth. They can make truth, and they tell it the way it is—no mincing of words. No rules except those written into the books themselves.”

“What does that have to do with me disappearing into the book and waking in the white room?”

“You didn’t disappear into the book. You entered the book’s cover, which is a different matter, you’ll see. Either way, it’s all real, baby, and it’s all good.”

He turned his head and stared at the far wall, where Billos saw a door that he didn’t remember seeing earlier.

“Well, not all good,” Black said. “In the wrong hands, the seven books could be quite a problem.”

“Why all seven books?”