P. Elrod: I, Strahd, The War against Azalin

"Int'restin' is the word for it, all right," he growled. "I seen plenty."

"Indeed? I suppose when one travels one also collects souvenirs-" she gave the saddlebag a significant look, hoping he would take the opening.

"Eh?"

"Mementos of one's trip… to remind one of the places one's been."

"You don't talk half funny, lady. Who's this 'one' yer on about?"

"I was just speaking figuratively."

"Eh?"

She put on a brave smile and nodded at the saddlebags. "You asked if I buy books. Might I inquire as to whether you have any you wish to sell?" She mentally crossed her fingers, hoping that the words "buy" and "sell" had made an impression upon him. Apparently so, for he fixed her with a gap-toothed grin.

"I might, I just might 'ave somethin'."

"Indeed? May I see?" She made no move toward the bag, not wanting to dirty her fingers. She also had the impression that if she had tried, he'd have grabbed it away.

He gave her a long, piercing stare, then broke away from the counter to look out the windows. The street that she had watched day in and out for the last quarter century was still very much in place, lined with other small shops and their customers, as ordinary as it could possibly be.

He snarled at the sight like a restive bear, then rounded on her. " 'Ow much you give for a book?"

She couldn't believe he'd said anything so simplistic, but covered her disbelief with another smile. "That all depends on the book."

"What d'ya mean?"

"Different books fetch different prices, same as anything else."

"Oh, yeah?" He didn't sound convinced.

"I'll put it this way: you'd pay more for a trained horse in its prime than for an elderly pony, now, wouldn't you?"

"'Less I could steal it 'nstead," he said with a laugh. Mrs. Heywood did not join him in his fit of merriment, and he shut it off quick. "What I mean-that is-"

"You have a book to sell?" she kindly prompted.

"Right, tha's it. I found it. It don't belong to no one but me. That is, I found it when my gran passed on, very sad I was."

"My condolences. Perhaps if you'd let me see it I can judge whether it might be of interest to my customers."

"Yeah, right, comin' up." He opened the bag and drew forth from his collection of battered camp gear a fair sized cloth-covered bundle tied up with string. Laying the rectangular shape on the counter before her, he cut the string with his belt knife and pulled the cloth wrapping away, revealing a thick volume. But even before that happened Mrs. Heywood felt a distinct chill closing over her.

Another dark book. She looked at it, her heart beating very fast, then took a deep steadying breath to try to quell her nerves.

Its leather cover had once been red in color, but age had deepened it to a rusty brown. You could only judge the original shade by bits of it trapped in the cracks of its spine.

Like dried blood, she thought, and firmly suppressed the shudder that wanted to take her.

"Well?" he asked. "Bet that's worth a lot. Bet you never seen nothin' like it."

"I can't say that I have." She put forth a cautious finger and lifted the cover to read the title. She studied it for a very long time, biting her lower lip before giving the man a sharp look. "Where did you really get this?"

"I said my gramp-I mean gran-died and-"

"Save it for someone else, laddie," she said, her voice low and quick. "When it comes down to it, I don't care how you got it, but I do want to know where. The more you can tell me, the better."

"For the price you'll give me?"

"Maybe, but it has to be the truth."

He grimaced. "Well, I was up away in Barovia y'see-"

"Barovia!" She caught her breath and her heart gave a leap. "That far?"

"Oh, aye, I was doin' a bit of guard work for one of the nobles there, had himself a nice little castle until he-well, I'll just say he wasn't so good at keeping up with his taxes and he fetched up on the wrong end of a spear when his liege lord was settlin' their differences in the accountin'."

"Oh, my."

"Fair gave me a turn when one minute he's going all la-de-da an' puttin' on airs with the other nobles, and the next thing y'know, his head's on a pike with a real surprised expression fixed to his face. When that happened I says to myself, 'Milos, it's time move on, an' the quicker the better.'"

"But where did the book-"

"I'm gettin' to that. The truth is, I never got my last bit of pay. So instead of waitin' for his survivors-not sure if there were any, come to think of it-to set things to right, I thought it best to just take my pay in goods an' leave."

"I see."

"A lot of the other fellows did the same," he said in a defensive tone.

"Go on."

"The pickin's was slim, an' about all that was left was some trinkets and this here book. I've sold the trinkets since, but this book has me flummoxed. I asked around, an' someone said you'd give me a fair price."

"They told you correctly. I will give you a very fair price, but I'll have to study it first."

"Study it?"

"My dear man, you don't buy a horse without checking its teeth, do you?"

"I suppose not," he reluctantly admitted. "But-"

"And I assure you that the contents of this book are not like a tankard of ale to be gone with the drinking. A good book generally becomes more valuable after it's been read."

Milos gave a mighty frown as if having trouble digesting her information. "How valuable?"

"I can tell you that after I'm done."

"All right," he said after considerable grimacing, which was apparently an aid to his thought processes. "Read it then." He stood back and crossed his arms, waiting.

"This will take awhile. Perhaps several hours."

"I thought maybe I could watch you read, an' maybe see how to do it myself."

"That is a very admirable aspiration, but unhappily one doesn't learn reading in that manner. Were it true, I'd have many more customers."

"Oh." He seemed quite let down.

"But I've a suggestion for you on how to pass the time. There is a very reasonable victuals shop at the end of the street. Many-er-gentlemen in a similar line of work as yourself gather there to socialize. Perhaps you might even hear of another noble needing to fill a vacancy in his guards."

"Oh, well, that's fair kind of you to mention it, ma'am. An' now that it's been mentioned I am feeling pretty hollow on the inside. But I shouldn't like to leave my property behind."

"Goodness me, what am I going to do with it? Run away?"

Milos eventually admitted that it wasn't a likely action for her to take. "You'll keep good care of it?"

"The best," she promised.

He finally removed his saddlebags from her counter and left, not without a few backward glances-and nearly bowled over Dr. Van Richten who was coming into the shop again.

"Excuse me!" said Van Richten, giving the appearance of being flustered by their near collision.

Milos grunted with mild disgust and left the shop, shutting the door behind him with more force than was probably necessary. The moment he was out of sight Mrs. Heywood whisked out a dusting cloth and put it to swift use. Her workplace in order again, she now faced Van Richten squarely. She realized, much to her consternation, that he had his back to her. He was peering out the window, apparently following the progress of her latest customer.

"Forgive me, Mrs. Heywood, but I seem to have forgotten my receipt," he said abstractedly, not turning around.

"Humph."

Van Richten straightened after a moment. "Is there something amiss?"

She shook her head at his show of innocence. "I know very well that you left it on purpose to have an excuse to return."

He produced a rueful smile in response. "Indeed, I did. Guilty as charged, good lady. It's only that I had a feeling I should see what he was up to."