Lar finds a book

Lar had learned the heft and stroke of his magic by wrestling with the wind; gradually learned how to suck the air from beneath a sparrow’s wings, how to blow up the body of a toad, how to send a gust across the floor to lift the skirts of a girl and flash her white legs. No one had taught him.

But it seemed that one could not learn to wield words alone, untaught, merely by struggling with them every day.

They had found a box full of books in the new tunnels: ancient books, their edges furred with brittle, fossilized mold from some centuries-​​past flood. The pages of some were black to the spine, but others were still readable – or would have been, if Lar had known how to read.

Still, they were a disappointing lot. None had the glittering pictures of the books his elves had stolen from the khírrón. There were no angels with their golden plates on their heads, no dogs or doglike dragons, no men peering out of towers scarcely taller than the soldiers massed before them, and no images of the blue-​​robed mother of the son of man, who was called Mary.

With pictures, he thought he might be able to puzzle out the words. Therefore he had been wrestling a while with this book. It did not have pictures, but it had something like: thinly-​​stroked designs such as the ladies scratched on their clay pots, with angles and triangles, dashes and dots, lines bisecting circles, and a few words scattered over each page.

The drawings had started out impossibly complex, but as he turned the pages the lines grew fewer, and he was hoping one of the designs would resolve itself into a symbol he recognized. He would have been grateful for a tree or a fish, for there were few enough words on each page that he hoped he would be able to associate them with parts of the drawing. However, the drawings had remained no more decipherable than the words – until he reached one particular page towards the back.

Something about the design struck him immediately as familiar. It was only a few strokes and bent lines laid out at precise angles. One could imagine a bird with a huge, crested head and gaping beak, a stubby tail, and two bent legs that were tufted where they joined the body.

For a moment Lar tried to remember where he had ever seen such a bird. Some sort of heron, perhaps?

It was only when he tried to remember where he had seen such a symbol that he understood. He counted the endpoints that were not attached to other lines: there were eight. He had seen this symbol, more gracefully drawn, across the face of the demon Dre.

Lar lifted his hand from the page and wiped it on his coat – both because he was beginning to sweat, and because he could not bear the touch of anything associated with that pale, smooth-​​faced monster.

He had found a book for summoning demons. And he still did not know how to read.

He heard the running and the shouting in what should have been plenty of time to hide the book away and compose himself. Nevertheless his hands were still damp and nervous by the time Imin and Surr had followed his voice into the small storeroom.

Neither remarked on his odd choice of room in which to spend the afternoon, which proved how upset they were.

“We’ve got trouble,” Imin announced.

“The elf Vash and some others are outside!” Surr panted. “And some men!”

“Not just ‘some others’,” Imin said. “The elf Osh and the unblinded elf.”

“And the dog!” Surr added.

“Outside, where outside?” Lar asked. “What dog?”

“They’re just looking,” Surr said excitedly. “They haven’t found us yet. But they have the dog…”

“What dog?” Lar shouted.

Imin rolled his eyes and hopped in impatience.

Surr said, “They let one of the dogs out a couple days ago. They – ”

“What dog?” Lar asked again.

“The dog you took from the elf Sela.” Imin poked Lar sharply in the ribs.

“What? Who let that dog out of here?” Lar howled.

“He was old…” Surr said feebly. “He wasn’t worth the meat…”

“You did?” Lar accused.

“No! Teodru did!”

“Teo – ”

They all fell silent for a moment, and Lar was forced to swallow his anger. No one knew where Teodru was, and everyone expected Lar to do something about it.

“Anyway, he’s worth the Khir’s meat!” Imin snarled. “He led them almost to the door. They’re looking around out there right now.”

“Looking for us or looking for Vin?” Lar asked.

Neither Imin nor Surr spoke, which proved to Lar they hadn’t even thought of Vin.

“They’ve been all up and down this valley looking for him,” Lar said.

“And with this dog they’ll find him!” Imin growled. “Stinking Mother! Listen, Lar – next time you see your dear friend Dre, you tell him we don’t need this shit!”

Lar wasted a few precious seconds glowering at him. Imin did not lower his eyes.

“Where are they now?” Lar barked.

“Down below the ash grove,” Surr said. “There’s at least three pairs of them.”

“Going in pairs?” Lar asked.

“One man and one elf,” Imin said.

“Then they’re looking for Vin,” Lar said grimly. “The man Egelric with them?”

“I don’t know,” Surr admitted.

“His dog. His son. He is.”

Lar pushed past them, taking care to slam Imin out of the way and knock Surr ever so slightly off-​​balance.

“Where you going?” Imin asked him.

“I’m letting him out of here,” Lar muttered. “Dre had his chance. We don’t need this shit.”