Grimoires and Where to Find Them by Raconteur, Honor (ebook reader for laptop .txt) 📕

As a craftsman myself, I can appreciate the quality of work. How did you end up with Detective Edwards?”

“I field cat,” Clint answered, as if that explained everything. His chest puffed out, showing off the police vest he wore.

Since he hadn’t actually explained much, I tacked on, “I acquired him for her, in fact. Jules Felix was so pleased with how Clint developed that he asked if she’d take on one more.”

“So, naturally, I ended up with three.” Jamie shrugged, as if this were the only expected outcome. “They’re excellent companions. And quite helpful to me at crime scenes.”

“Really? We must have dinner, all of us, and get to know each other better. I barely see Henri all that often as it is. We have much to catch up on.”

Jamie, being more sociable than myself, immediately agreed. “Sure, let’s set a time after this.”

“I’m afraid we are here on business,” I said apologetically. “But we can do dinner sometime this week and visit properly.”

Jere nodded, understanding. “It is the middle of the workday, after all. Didn’t figure this for a social call. I’m not sure why you’re here to talk to me, though.”

“It’s about the Reaper’s Set.” I settled in to explain better, resting my hands on the table’s smooth surface. “We’ve recently had two volumes stolen. One of them from a broker at a book faire, the other from Leor Purves.”

Jere’s expression changed from smiling to unsettled in a split second, color draining from his face so that he looked almost grey. “Great gods above. Leor had volume seven, didn’t he?”

“Yes, quite so. Volume four was stolen from the faire. How well do you know the set?”

“I would say intimately well, on one level. I had them in hand for nearly a full year while I crafted the boxes for them.” Jere ran a shaking hand over his face, looking as if someone had tap danced along his grave. Then stomped on it for good measure. “Henri, do you know much about the set?”

“Only the basics at this point. And your reaction is scaring me.” As I eyed him, the sinking feeling in my chest twisted in an uncomfortable fashion. “How dangerous is this set?”

“I certainly wouldn’t let it out in the public, if that’s what you’re asking. Lady Marvella Radman approached me roughly ten years ago, requesting that I make the boxes. Frankly, she hadn’t much money for the project. Her family fortune has been in trouble for the past generation. I think that’s why she wanted me, as I was brand new to the field and automatically cheaper than my business rivals. But she was determined to get them settled right, and I think hoping to sell some of them and get some income. She approached me because of a recommendation from a former professor. You remember Gauldie, right?”

I hadn’t thought of that professor in many years. But she had been one of my favorites, a stunningly brilliant woman with a very unique fashion sense. I’d never before met someone who kept her hair purple.

“I do, indeed. A favorite professor of mine.”

“Well, Lady Radman and Gauldie are good friends. It was she whom Lady Radman asked for a recommendation of a magical craftsman. Gauldie and I are still friends—we meet up for tea sometimes—and she thought to introduce us. Lady Radman’s payment to me was one of the volumes, the ninth one.”

“Oh, so you’re one of the people gifted a grimoire.”

“I am.” Jere stroked a hand over his chin. “If you can call it that, in my case. Not many were gifted. The family sold as many as they could, but Lady Radman wanted three specific grimoires to go to certain people, so she put her foot down and got her way. I’m honestly glad. Mine is a treasure, and I’d never have been able to afford it on my own.”

Jamie was busy taking notes, leaving me free to ask questions.

“Was that the plan all along? You took the job as a trade?”

“That’s how strapped she was for cash. I didn’t realize until later how invaluable the set was. But I didn’t even dream of trying to renegotiate the deal for cash instead, despite how lopsided it sounds. I earned every copper, I promise you. The grimoires, when handed over to me, where in a bad state. They’d been put in protective boxes, but when sealed into the wall, the outer brick’s mortar had failed. The boxes were damp and falling apart when discovered. They were bleeding into each other on various levels.”

I winced at this description. “Great magic. How bad was it?”

“Ever see wooden beams trying to grow into each other?” Jere returned, his voice full of dark humor. “Whole back end of the house looked like an elvish shire, but a warped one, with the beams thinking they were trees and the brickwork going back to nature. Craziest thing I’d ever seen, and the air itself was horrible. Thick and stagnant with warped magic. Made me ill, walking in, and that was with a protective ward on me. It took two magical specialists to get them safely out of the building. And then they wrapped them up in binding cloths with hexes to protect the grimoires until boxes could be made. Which wasn’t all that effective, truth be told. I had to put them in staging boxes as soon as I got them here. It was a nightmare.”

“I’m sorry.” I had to interrupt to make sure I knew what he meant. “Staging boxes?”

“I’ve got ready-made boxes that have very powerful sealing wards on them,” he explained. “They’re what I use in a pinch. I imagine your compartments at the police evidence room have something similar, something that can contain powerful magic in a one-size-fits-all sort of way.”

“We do, indeed. Pray continue.”

“Lady Radman was adamant about preserving the covers and restoring the grimoires to their original state. I agreed because it would impact the value of the set if I messed with them too much, but