When I am being held and read by someone nice, it is, she replied.

And when you are not, it is not? I can see that might be a disadvantage in your state, though one you must have anticipated before you became a book.

I would have, if I’d had foreknowledge of my fate.

So you did not choose to become a book. Why did your maker do that to you? Was it a punishment?

No, though perhaps it was natural justice for being too ambitious and vain. I sought his attention, and received more of it than I intended.

Why did you seek his attention?

He was famous. I wanted to impress him. I thought my friends would be envious.

And for that be turned you into a book. What manner of man could be so cruel?

He was the most powerful sorcerer of his time, Roporien the Clever.

Tyen caught his breath and a chill ran down his back. Roporien ! But he died over a thousand years ago !

Indeed.

Then you are …

At least as old as that. Though in my time it wasn’t polite to comment on a woman’s age.

He smiled. It still isn’t—and I don’t think it ever will be. I apologise again.

You are a polite young man. I will enjoy being owned by you.

You want me to own you? Tyen suddenly felt uncomfortable. He realised he now thought of the book as a person, and owning a person was slavery—an immoral and uncivilised practice that had been illegal for over a hundred years.

Better that than spend my existence in oblivion. Books don’t last for ever, not even magical ones. Keep me. Make use of me. I can give you a wealth of knowledge. All I ask is that you hold me as often as possible so that I can spend my lifespan awake and aware.

I don’t know … The man who created you did many terrible things—as you experienced yourself. I don’t want to follow in his shadow. Then something occurred to him that made his skin creep. Forgive me for being blunt about it, but his book, or any of his tools, could be designed for evil purposes. Are you one such tool?

I was not designed so, but that does not mean I could not be used so. A tool is only as evil as the hand that uses it.

The familiarity of the saying was startling and unexpectedly reassuring. It was one that Professor Weldan liked. The old historian had always been suspicious of magical things.

How do I know you’re not lying about not being evil?

I cannot lie.

Really? But what if you’re lying about not being able to lie?

You’ll have to work that one out for yourself.