noct
patreon
5. Bookworm
🕑 Added 2023-12-05 17:00:02 +0000 UTCLoud knocking burrowed into Oz’s brain early the next morning, startling him from his slumber. Groaning, he rolled over and covered his head with his pillow. “Ten more minutes…”
Maybe I’ll just call in today. They don’t need me, anyways. There’s a million drones just like me.
Ugh, but that’s exactly why I have to get up. They’ll replace me. I’m not special. I need to cling to this job. Gotta make money to survive. Gotta get that bread so I can eat. Up, get up. C’mon. Up and at ‘em…
…Wait, that’s not my alarm. Someone’s at the door?
He heaved himself upright and found himself in a strange bed, in a strange room, with a strange ceiling. For a moment, he sat there, stunned. What the fuck?
Oh, right. I got transported to another world.
…I really got transported to another world, huh? Damn. Running his hair back, Oz sighed, only to freeze again as his hair kept going. And I have long hair now. Right. It’s in, or something.
Where’s that damn ribbon. Shit gets in my way when I read like this. Patting around randomly on the desk, Oz found his hairtie and latched his hair back. Hopping out of bed, he slung his robes over his shoulders and yawned, stretching.
The incessant knocking grew louder. The door slammed in its frame.
I need to fix that damn frame. Also, who the hell needs me this urgently at this hour? Also, I know I’m about half a mile from that door. How am I hearing it?
Wait, don’t tell me. Magic.
Smiling at no one, Oz took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. As he did, the blue thread in his core shivered, startled to life. His eyes widened, and he smiled.
Regardless of everything, I have magic. At the end of the day, who cares? Magic! I have magic!
A pep in his step, he headed through the mazelike passages toward the door. Rather than rushing, he look his time, casually slinging his hands in the pockets of his robe. Chances are, the person at the door wants me dead. There’s no need to rush to the door to get harassed.
You’re going to beat down the door? I think I’ll take my time getting there, thanks.
A moth fluttered by. It landed on a bookcase opposite him and spread its wings, slowly batting them. Oz paused, mesmerized. The pale green moth sported long, droopy wings that spanned as wide as his hand, its body fuzzy, its pale brown antennae broad, big black eyes shining faintly. Except for the white spots on its wings glowing faintly in the library’s thin dawn light, it possessed nearly the same markings and coloration as a luna moth.
“Where’d you come from?” Oz murmured. Sliding his hand under the moth, he carefully picked it up and turned it over, examining it from all angles. The big, docile thing sat obediently on his hand, waiting until he put his hand back near the shelves to crawl free and settle down again.
“Huh.” Oz tilted his head at the moth again, then shrugged. A second companion, to match Sid. I should probably keep it away from Sid, though. She’d attack it, being a cat and all.
As if summoned by his thought, a quiet mrow sounded from overhead. Oz glanced up.
A fluffy white cat perched on a shelf above him.
“Hi. Who are you?” he greeted it, lifting his arms to offer it a way down.
Chirping, the cat jumped down on its own and shook its head. A black scrap of fabric dangled from its neck, half-buried in the fluff.
“Wait, hold on. Sid…?” Oz guessed.
Ignoring him, the cat lifted its fluffy tail and walked away, glancing over its shoulder once to see if he followed, then walking on anyways when he didn’t.
Oz snorted. What did I expect? It’s a cat. Even if it is Sid, and Sid’s a magical shapeshifting cat or something, would she respond to her name? No.
He hurried on. Another moth fluttered by, then another and another. One flew into his face. Spluttering, Oz batted it down. This is a lot of luna moths. What the hell?
A platoon of moths fluttered by, spiraling together in a cloud. Oz ducked the mass of moths, staring after them. No, seriously. This is a metric shit-ton of moths. This isn’t normal, is it?
Ahead, yet more moths swirled in the lobby. They swirled around the open space, flying in platoons too thick to see through. Oz gritted his teeth and raised his arms, bulling through. Wings rushed at him. The moths bounced off his shoulders, battering him with feather-light blows. Wingprint dust stains splattered his black robes. Blinded by moths, Oz groped forward. He reached ahead, feeling for the door.
Solid wood. Cold metal. Oz grabbed the door handle and hauled. Sunlight pierced through the dim interior of the library. The moths scattered, fleeing into the darkness.
“Can I help…” Oz’s voice trailed off. His eyes narrowed. What now?
Roan stood on the steps, a smug expression on his face. At the sight of the moths, he burst out laughing, pointing at the cloud. “It worked even better than I expected! Damn, that’s funny.”
Giving him a deadpan look, Oz cocked a brow. “What did you do?”
“You don’t recognize them?” Roan asked, startled.
“I’ve had a rough few days, thanks in no small part to you. Humor me,” Oz returned.
Roan snatched one out of the air. It struggled desperately against his grasp, but he only tightened his grip. “Bookmoths. The adult form of bookworms. Right now, their larvae are chewing through your precious books, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Ha! To think, that small prank I left behind months ago, when I was kicked out, would—”
“Right, thanks.” Without waiting for Roan to say another word, Oz shut the door.
Roan blinked. He stared at the door, completely lost. A second later, his face contorted with hatred. “Oy! Come back!”
So you can keep mocking me? Fuck that. Oz whirled, running back through the moths. He lifted a hand, peering up through the flapping masses.
There! Lowering his head, protecting his face with his hands, he rushed across the lobby. A spiral staircase loomed up before him. Not allowing himself to think, Oz sprinted up the stairs, as high as he could go.
A few steps up, pressure pushed him down. Paying no mind to the pressure, he turned about and stared out over the lobby.
Like it pressed on him, the pressure also suppressed the moths. They fluttered no higher than the top of the shelves. From the highest step he could reach, Oz commanded a vantage point over the churning masses.
Where are they coming from?
A thick stream of moths flew forth from one of the far right passages. Securing the location in his mind, Oz slid down the banister of the spiral staircase, lifted his robes over his head, blocked his face with his arms, and sprinted for it.
Thicker and thicker. The moths battered him with heavy wings. Round bodies bumped off his shoulders and arms. Oz charged forward blindly. The bookcase loomed up at him, and he dodged at the last second, barely avoiding a collision with a stationary object.
At last, he burst out into clear air. Lowering his arms, Oz coughed, batting his robes off. A moth burst out from the collar of his robes, fleeing into the air.
All around him, the sound of steady chewing echoed between the shelves. Fat green caterpillars inched their way over the surface of every book he could see, climbing up their covers, squeezing between their pages. As he watched, a nearby one reared up, a scrap of paper caught in its front legs, and chowed down, destroying the paper in a matter of moments. It lowered down and crawled along again, searching for its next victim.
Oz pressed his lips together. This is a problem.
Why, Roan? Take your revenge against me if you must. That’s no problem. I might even understand, depending on your previous situation.
Taking your hatred out on innocent books, on the other hand? Too cruel. Far too cruel!
He cast around, then rushed off down the hallway. Finding a random room, he pulled open the door. The sky stretched before him, no floor to be seen.
Shutting the door, Oz ran on. He glanced over his shoulder. Wish I could head back to the kitchen or the storage room, but I’d have to fight my way through the moths twice again. If I can’t find anything over on this side, I’ll go back the other way, moths or no.
Another door. He shoved it open.
Vases. Hundreds and hundreds of vases sat on the ground. Small, large, wide-necked and narrow, bulbous, cylindrical, square, and everything in between. Toward the back, wax sealed the necks of most of the vases, but toward the front, empty vases cluttered the floor.
He stared at the vases for a moment, frozen in place. Everything I know about magic tells me those things are real bad.
But the empty ones are just what I need.
Oz grabbed a large bulbous one with a narrow neck and tucked it under his arm. He ran back to where the bookworms chewed their way along. Carefully, he plucked one off a cover.
The caterpillar clung on for dear life. Its feet dug into the cover. It lifted the book as he picked it up.
Damn, that thing’s strong. Oz carefully separated its feet from the cover and popped it into the vase. It tumbled into darkness. Another squeezed out from within the book. He snatched it up and dropped it into the vase, too. Working his way along the shelf, he plucked all the bookworms off the books and sent them falling into the vase.
Oz wiped his brow and stood up, sighing in relief. That’s one shelf done. Now, for the rest…
He looked up and down the shelves he stood at, taking in the other five shelves of books still crawling with worms, then turned to stare down the aisle. Chunky green bookworms scooted across the books, the books blanketed by the squirming green masses.
How the hell am I going to clean them all off?
From the shelf he’d cleared, another green caterpillar inched out from under the books. Already tired, Oz grabbed it. It struggled helplessly, twisting left and right and wiggling its legs at the air. He tossed it into the vase with the rest.
A chirp caught his ear. Appearing out of the moths, a calico cat with a black bit of fabric around her neck wobbled toward him, dragging the book on local creatures and monsters.
Oz’s eyes lit up. Right! Obviously. There’s got to be something in the bestiary. “Good going, Sid!” He scratched the cat behind the ears.
Sid purred, arching her back toward him.
Giving her a few pets, Oz snatched up the book. A second later, he paused and looked down at Sid again. Is the white cat a different cat? Sid’s still a calico.
Look at me, immediately suspecting everything of being magical the second I enter a world with magic. Cats can still be ordinary cats, even in a magic world. Oz shook his head at himself, chuckling under his breath.
On the other hand, how did Sid know to bring me this book? Coincidence? He squinted at the cat.
Sid stared back at him. She trilled questioningly.
“No, my apologies. Thank you, Sid.” I can resolve whether this cat is magic or not at another time. For now, let’s dig in. He cracked open the book and flipped to the back, to the glossary.
What did Roan call these? Bookmoths, bookworms? That’s easy to remember. He paged back and forth until he found the B page, then ran his finger down to Bo. Let’s see. Boar, Silver, Boaline, Boetta… Bookmoth! There. Page 213. Back through to the start of the book. He cracked it open to the page, smoothing out the book.
Full-color illustrations of the eggs, the caterpillars, and the full-grown moth spanned the top half of the page. Resting a hand atop the vase so no particularly industrious caterpillars could crawl free, Oz settled against a clear span of wall to read.
Bookworms plague booklovers across the continent. Though the adults are largely harmless, the same cannot be said of the larvae. The bane of book collectors the world over, they voraciously devour any pulped wood product.
Adult bookmoths live no longer than ten days, but spend those ten days mating and laying eggs. They prefer quiet, dark places with plenty of food for their larvae; that is to say, books. They seek out large collections of books, but lacking that, will lay their eggs in any available pages. Remain ever vigilant. The slimmest lone volume may contain bookworm eggs.
The bookworm’s tiny, round, black eggs are easily missed, mistaken for stray ink dots or misplaced punctuation. Though the eggs lay dormant through the winter cold, during the warm spring and summer months, freshly-laid eggs hatch within days, quickly expanding a bookworm infestation.
A bookworm, or more accurately, a bookmoth larvae, can devour four hundred pages a day. As bookmoths lay tens of eggs at a time, up to two hundred eggs a day, a bookworm infestation can decimate even a large library in a span of days.
A bookworm plopped onto the page. Oz plucked it off and dropped it into the vase. His brows furrowed, cleaving deep. So far, I’m seeing a lot of bad news. If those adults can lay two hundred eggs a day, each, then the library is fucked. By now, the whole thing’s been infested.
Come on. Nothing about how to fix an infestation?
He read on.
Although bookworm infestations can devastate libraries, there’s hope! Even the most advanced bookworm infestation can be cured, as long as books remain to be saved.
First, bookworms have no inherent core or magic power. Rumors state they can gain this by eating books imbued with magic, but these rumors are unconfirmed and should be treated as such. In any case, as bookworms possess little or no magic power, one’s natural pressure, applied properly, will crush all bookworms in the region of one’s control. Repeat over the entire library.
Oz pursed his lips. “By the time I have enough magic power to crush worms with the pressure of my magic alone, they’ll have eaten the whole library.”
Failing that, two options remain.
Burn the affected books. Bookworms cannot—
Oz rolled his eyes. Skip. I’d have to burn the whole library, and at that point, I might as well hand it over to someone else first and cash in before I kick myself in the nuts.
He turned back to the page.
Finally, the peasant’s option.
Oz punched the air. “Yes! At last!”
Vinegar. White vinegar of sufficient purity, sprayed in sufficient quantities, kills bookmoth eggs, stuns bookworms, and downs bookmoths. However, as most of us with large book collections have significant capital and/or magic at hand—
Snapping the book shut, Oz nodded at Sid. “Vinegar. I need vinegar.”
Sid tilted her head. A second later, she leaped, snatching a bookmoth out of the air and pinning it to the tile. It struggled pitifully, wings flopping against her paw.
“Good job, girl.” Oz ran his hand down her body, then stood, tucking the book under an arm.
Vinegar. How do I acquire vinegar?
I could try distilling it myself, but that requires raw materials and time, neither of which I have… as far as I know. Hell, there’s probably a wine cellar in here somewhere. I don’t know where, is the problem, and again, that’s time I don’t have to find it. Worst case, I’ll give it a shot, but let’s not start from the desperation option.
My other options are limited.
I can’t simply go walkabout. If I step outside, I’ll probably get assassinated immediately, if not dragged off to be publicly executed in some horrible medieval way. I know enough about medieval executions to know that I absolutely don’t want to go through that.
Plus, you die at the end. Less than ideal.
As a twenty-first century man, naturally, I’m used to ordering service to my door, but then we come up against the problem of me not having money, nor knowing what money looks like, nor its worth in this world. So unfortunately, right now, hired help is out of my reach.
Which leaves favors. He reached into his pocket, fingering a paper within. Aisling won’t be happy, but she’ll be less happy if the worms eat that book of hers. I think I can convince her to help.
I’ll owe her a favor afterward, but as long as I find the Five Fist Progression, I should be able to pay it back, no problem. And fundamentally, I’m not opposed to allowing others to use the library, if her favor turns out to be book-related. In fact, it’s my ideal end state. The only problem is that right now, I’m pretty sure half the people I let in would try to steal my books, and the other half would try to sabotage or murder me.
Once the dust settles from Madame Saoirse ascending, once I get a little stronger, once I figure out how this barrier works… Oz nodded to himself. I’m going to open this library up to the public.
But first, let’s handle the bookmoths.
Oz turned, staring down the wall of moths between him and the lobby. If I activate the talisman back here, the moths will devour it before it makes it out of the aisle. I’ve got to get back to the lobby.
Tearing a piece of cloth off his tunic again, he wrapped the mouth of the vase with it to prevent the bookworms he’d captured from escaping, then nodded at Sid. “Here I go.”
Mouth full of moth, Sid looked up at him, her pupils big and round. Her tail swished.
Lifting his robes over his head, hiding the bestiary book against his chest, Oz sprinted through the moths again. Dusty wings beat about his face, the creatures thrashing and bumping against him nonstop. Afraid to breathe one in, he closed his mouth, covered his nose, and squinted his eyes half-shut.
He burst out into the lobby and heaved a deep breath. Fewer moths fluttered around here. Plenty of them still swirled around the space, flapping here and there, but compared to back in the shelves, they were sparse. He walked to the door.
Roan grinned at him. “Give up yet?”
Folding the talisman in half, he offered it up to the sky. The talisman transformed into an arrow and flew high into the sky, reaching twenty feet in an instant. Without another word, he turned away.
“Oi, hey hey hey—”
Oz shook his head. Roan really waited that long to smirk at me? That man needs hobbies. Seriously.
A slash sounded out. Oz turned around, catching the door seconds before it shut. What was that?
The talisman fluttered down, broken in two pieces.
Roan panted, staring at him. “Don’t you dare ignore me.”
“What the fuck, bro?” Oz asked.
“W…what?” Roan asked, taken aback.
Oz gestured. Medieval language, medieval language. No modern slang. “What was that for, huh? Why’d you do that?”
Roan drew himself up to his full height, a smirk already touching his lips again. “Ha. Why wouldn’t I get in your way? You were the foolish one who thought you could—”
Oz raised his palm, silencing Roan. “Seriously. What are you doing? My du…friend, take a moment and think. What do you gain from doing any of this? Hassling me? Causing troubles? Have you thought about that at all?”
Roan squinted at him. “Are you stupid? Madame Saoirse gave you the library. I—”
“Of course you want it. Who wouldn’t want a library? I’m very happy to have a library. I never dreamed of one day, personally owning a library… that is, Master’s library. But think, Roan. I own this library. That’s done. It’s over. Game, set, match.”
“You play tennis?” Roan asked, taken aback.
“You have tennis?” Oz returned, equally taken aback.
The two of them stared at each other for a moment.
Oz cleared his throat. “In any case. The point is, you aren’t going to run me out. Your childish harassment is pointless. If you want to have access to the library, you only need to do two things.” He paused. “Three. Wait—four. Four things. Just four things.”
“Bow down, crawl on my knees, lick your boots, and praise you to high heavens?” Roan guessed sarcastically, counting off on his fingers. He rolled his eyes at Oz. “Fat chance.”
“Uh… no. I do like where your mind is, but keep your fetishes to yourself, okay?” Oz said, giving Roan a look.
“My… what?”
Oz waved his hand. “All you have to do is ask nicely and behave yourself.”
Roan blinked. “That’s all?”
“That’s all,” Oz said, shrugging.
“That’s two of four,” Roan returned.
“Oh, right. Three, go find Aisling for me, and four, help me take care of the worms you set free in the library.”
Roan squinted at him. “I’m still missing something. Why would I do that? For you?”
“Not for me. For the library. And you’re doing it because you want access to the library. Right? You’re jealous that Madame Saoirse chose me, but what’s the point of that? I’m perfectly willing to provide you with access to the library. You can get all the benefits of the library, without all the downsides of having to take care of it.” Oz raised his brows at Roan and gazed seriously at him, channeling all of his teacher and librarian energy.
Roan gaped. “You… why? You hate me. I—to you…”
“Do I have to hate you? Am I required to fight you? I don’t care, Roan. I don’t care. I’ve heard far worse than your insults. It doesn’t even bother me.” Oz spread his hands with a shrug. Compared to the shit I’ve heard online, you’re an absolute novice. A complete newb. Bounces right off me.
Maybe the old Ossian was a sensitive child. He did give up and summon another soul into his body after a relatively small amount of harassment, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he was softhearted. But the thing is, I’m not the old Ossian. I’m a tired old salaryman who’s heard it all, said it all, drunk to it and gone home. All these insults and arguments just feel… childish.
Hesitating, Roan looked Oz up and down. “This isn’t a joke? You’re serious? You’ll let me in?”
“Oh, and don’t kill me, and don’t steal books, and don’t attack,” Oz tacked on quickly.
“I’d be stupid to do that inside the library. You can call on the barrier to obliterate someone at my strength in there,” Roan said, giving him a look.
“Obviously,” Oz said, frowning and waving his hand. Right. I knew that. Haha. Of course.
Madame Saoirse, you couldn’t have mentioned that in your spiel? I have power at hand and can defend myself in this library? That seems important to mention!
Roan paused. He stepped forward. “You give me permission to enter?”
“Wait. Get Aisling first. Oh, and vinegar,” Oz demanded.
“You think you can demand things of me?” Roan asked, drawing himself to his full height.
“You want to get in or not?” Oz put his hands on his hips and looked down at Roan, using the height advantage of the step to give him a haughty look.
Roan scowled. He turned on his heel. “Fine. What do you need vinegar for?”
“For the bookworms,” Oz said, shrugging.
Mouth open, Roan stared. A second later, he shut his mouth. “That’s right. You can’t sense qi.”
“I can, now. Kind of. Sometimes,” Oz said. Only when I’m reading, for some reason. I still don’t understand why, but then, I barely understand anything about magic.
Roan gaped again. He squinted at Oz. “Who are you?”
“Oz,” he replied simply.
“That’s not what I mean. You’d never…”
“Yeah? Want to remind me of what I’d never do? Or do you want to take advantage of this lapse in my memory?” Oz asked, crossing his arms.
Roan hesitated one more moment, then turned away. Standing in the door, Oz watched him go.
Can I trust him?
Probably not. But if he gets Aisling and some vinegar, I might be able to trust him enough to let him clean the books up. After all, according to him, I can punish people inside the library. From the way he phrased it, there’s an upper limit to what I can do, but someone ‘at his level’ is well within my power. Again, according to him, but the way he said it? I don’t think he was bluffing or trying to pull one over me.
He wandered over to the desk. “Madame Saoirse. Can I control the library’s defenses?”
For a long moment, nothing happened. He stared at the desk, and the desk sat there, a large, wooden object.
Oz narrowed his eyes. I don’t know what I was thinking—
A projection of Madame Saoirse billowed up from the crystal ball. Putting her hands on her elbows, she gazed down at him. “The library’s defenses. Index entry confirmed. Would you like to hear the passage?”
What? Passage? Index? It’s almost like she’s a book…
…Alright, fair enough. I don’t know what I expected from a librarian.
“Yes, please,” he said, nodding.
The projection jumped, taking on a different pose. “The library’s defenses. The library’s defenses are many, and most of them are beyond your capabilities. The barrier should hold for a few months to many years, depending on the level of bombardment.”
“Hold on, what?” Oz asked. Months to years? Bombardment? It’s been under heavy bombardment… does that mean I only have months to get strong? I’ve barely sensed magic yet, and you’re the one telling me to read the whole library before I move on to the next level!
Ignoring him, the projection continued.
“However, I expect only a token bombardment, then silence for years. Under those conditions, the barrier will hold long beyond the end of your mortal lifespan.
“You will not be able to control the outer barrier for some time, but rest assured I have given you plenty of tools to defend yourself, even if you spend the rest of your life as a powerless mortal. You may have noticed the dish to the side of the desk. That contains the control interface for the internal defenses. Place your hand within to activate the spell formation.”
“Nice,” Oz said, then paused. He turned, eyeing the glass-covered dish of silvery liquid. Wait. That’s the dish of mercury, right? Do I want to put my hand in that…?
“The controls are limited based on your strength. Ultimately, the entire set of controls is somewhat basic. I expect you to build your own controls and modify the barrier as you take over. At a mortal or near-mortal level of power, you can only expel people from the library. In addition, the internal barrier will protect you from the equivalent of one fifth-tier attack before it requires recharging. However, please keep in mind that the library’s internal barrier draws on your strength to power its defenses. As a mortal, the barrier will have no option but to draw on your blood, or in other words, your lifespan.”
“Hold on. Blood magic uses up lifespan?” Oz looked at his hands. How many years did Ossian sacrifice to summon me? How long do I have left? Fucking shit, dude!
That also means I basically get one chance to block an attack. I’d better make sure it’s worth it if I have to use it.
“However, once you begin cultivating magic, I expect you will be able to rapidly power the defenses with your own strength, instead of your lifespan,” the projection finished assuredly, and vanished.
Oz nodded at the desk. He clapped his hands together, turning to look at the dish. That, huh? Just put my hand in the deadly mercury. No problem, right?
It’s magic. Magic deadly mercury.
No, no. Just magic, Not mercury at all.
Casting a wary eye over it, he shook his head, then lifted the glass cloche. “Whatever. Ossian wasted lifespan to summon me here, so I probably don’t have long to live, anyways. What’s a little mercury poisoning?”
He lifted the cloche and lowered his hand. Inches over the surface of the liquid, he flinched back.
I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?
It’s the control scheme for the internal barrier, probably. I want to invite people in. In fact, you could say my only power in this world, right now, lies in being able to invite people inside. I have to touch it.
It’s not mercury.
I’ll be fine.
Repeating the words in a little bit of self-hypnosis, he carefully laid his hand on the very surface of the liquid.
The instant his skin touched the liquid, it leaped up and swallowed his hand. He jerked back, startled, but the liquid followed him. It spiraled out of the dish and drilled into his arm, twisting over its surface.
His arm burned. Gritting his teeth, Oz grabbed his forearm with his other arm, his fingers clenching in pain. Ow, ow, ow! Hurts, it hurts!
Silver patterns appeared over his skin as the last of the liquid vanished into his arm. Swirling, ritualistic characters spun together with blocky runes and the fine, intersecting lines of magic circles. A circle at his wrist, one at mid-forearm, and one just below his elbow, each one encompassing his arm, his arm as the circle’s center. The runes encircled his arms at oblique angles, intersecting the magical circles, while the characters filled up the spaces between, large, small, stacked up one on top of another.
Oz turned his arm over, inspecting the patterns. Even as he watched, the silver faded to black. Uh, alright. I guess it’s a part of me now.
Hey, barrier. Er, how do I activate you?
No response. Oz turned his hand over again. Uh… what do I do here? Should I ask the projection again? Googl—er, Madame Saoirse, help me!
Before his eyes, one of the symbols swirled. Suddenly, it made perfect sense, despite him still not understanding the language. Expel.
Oh. And the protection one? Or I guess that’s just passive…? He kept turning his hand, searching.
A thick rune swirled before his eyes, and the word Protect appeared in his mind.
Oz nodded. And there we are. Nice!
I want to test it out, but it draws on my lifespan. I’m nowhere near delusional enough to think my two strands of magic will be enough to power my ex-Master’s barrier. She was massively powerful. There’s no way even the weakest abilities of her barrier will cost the meager amount of magic that I currently possess. I don’t even think I could summon a spark right now, let alone power a complex barrier spell.
Plus, I have no one to expel. Minor detail.
Unfortunately, it means I’ll have to leave the barrier untested before I invite my first visitors in. But on the other hand, if I need someone to test Expel on… Oz grinned. Ehehehe. I think Roan signed up for that one. I called him childish for holding a grudge, but I’m sure he’ll forgive me for holding a tiny grudge against him!
Though, being serious here for a moment, I shouldn’t unless I have to. Again, I have no idea how much lifespan Ossian burned to summon me. I can’t carelessly draw on blood magic.
With the barrier active, and nothing better to do, he returned to the shelves and picked worms off books while he waited. Beside him, Sid plucked moths out of the air, gnawing them to death and eating their fat bodies.
He watched her strip the wings off another moth with cruel efficiency and shook his head. “You’re nature’s perfect little killer, aren’t you?”
Sid looked up at him. Making full eye contact, she took a big bite of the moth.
Oz snorted. Yeah, typical cat. Doesn’t care at all. He went back to plucking caterpillars.
A few hours passed. Bored, Oz began reading one of the books as he plucked. That’s three shelves cleared. At this rate, I’ll have saved… this small section of shelves. Is Roan coming back? If not, I’m kind of fucked. I’ll have to hope Aisling shows up on her own again, and… yeah. I don’t like that idea.
Damn you, Roan. Why’d you have to cut down my talisman? So rude.
Tsk. I shouldn’t have released it around Roan. My fault, my fault. Still, who could know that guy could somehow take down a talisman twenty feet over his head with that ceremonial-looking sword of his?
For that matter, how did he do that? Magic, I guess? I should quiz him on it. He’s a pretty good repository of information, honestly.
Knocking. Oz jumped, then turned. Hey! Is that my favorite information repository? Right on time! In a cheerful voice, he called, “I’m coming!”
