A Tattered Book

The "Magic Emporium" was anything but an emporium. It was a smallish place, with few items on the wall and a cramped interior. It was nicer than anything close to the walls, but just barely. Jacob was tempted to make haste on his escape, but an elderly manned popped up from a counter hidden beneath a mound of books.

"A customer? Welcome to the Magic Emporium! I'm Samuel" the man squealed, approaching Jacob. His white hair bobbed, reminding Jacob of a toupee. "What are we interested in today?"

Jacob wanted to learn more about magic so that he might figure out what was wrong with his. It clearly existed, so why didn't it show up on the mage recruiter's test? His cheeks burned at that humiliation he received in front of all the Leafburrow children, his hopes dashed in but a moment. He regretted not speaking up and proving it himself, but what was in the past remained there.

"Do you have any books on the fundamentals of magic?" Jacob asked, hoping that there might be such a volume hidden deep within the depths of the shop.

"Are those uppity scholars at the Academy not providing you all you need to know?" Samuel grumbled. Clearly, he was not at good terms with the Academic Order. "I do have a book or two like that, but they're quite battered," the old man offered.

"That'd be fantastic, Samuel. Look at me," Jacob opened his arms wide. "A battered book for a battered boy. It's probably all I could afford anyway."

Samuel's mouth opened into a small "o" shape before he scurried off, shuffling books around in pursuit of the introductory volume Jacob needed. Apparently, there was some order to the chaos because Samuel found it without incident. Before handing it to Jacob for him to examine the book, Samuel spoke. "If you don't mind me asking, what's a magician doing so that he needs to come here for an introductory book? Most of my customers come for rarer editions."

"A magician?" Jacob had thought they called magic users mages, here.

"A student at the Academy," Samuel waved his confusion away before pausing. "By the gods, you're not a student, are you?"

"No, I'm not. I'm just studying the underlying principles of magic on my own. A swordsman can never be too prepared, am I right?" Jacob joked, cursing his momentary slip. By Royal Decree, all children who showed the capacity for magic must either attend an Academy or register their abilities with the mage recruiter and swear an oath to forsake their power. By being here, researching magic, without being a student or graduate of an Academy, Jacob risked much.

Fortunately, Samuel bought the excuse. "I suppose that's true, but I doubt this will help you much, then. It's primarily for novice magicians. I got my hands on this a couple years ago when one of those hooligans at the Academy were pressed for money. A right shame, what happened to this book."

Samuel was right. The cover was torn, as were many of the pages. There were stains on almost half the pages, but the writing was still legible enough. In the world he had come from, a book like this might be discarded or recycled. Jacob guessed that books were more expensive here, especially if they didn't have the printing press developed.

"How much for it?" Jacob asked. To his surprise, Samuel shook his head.

"I can't, in good faith, accept coin for this travesty. I'll never sell it, quite honestly. It'll do if you just spread the word about my little shop to any friendly mage you might come across," Samuel asked, handing the book over to Jacob. This was a kindness that Jacob felt was undeserved, but he needed the book. He smiled back at the white-haired man, promising that he would do everything in his ability to carry his shop's name everywhere he went.

Leaving the store, Jacob noticed the moons were just beginning to rise. "Oh hells," Jacob muttered, having picked up the phrase from Rod. He sprinted down the alleyways, careful to dodge the odd sketchy figure here and there. His run reminded him of fond memories with Will and his laps around Leafburrow.

Without a second to spare, Jacob skidded to a halt just in front of the Happy Hog. He quickly deposited his backpack, empty of scales and carrying instead a beaten-up book. With great tenderness, he retrieved the lute he had brought with him to Steelshade. It had meant a lot to Rod, and Rod meant a lot to Jacob. By that logic, the lute meant a lot to Jacob, and it really did. He held it close before making his way downstairs.

The innkeeper nodded at him for him to begin his performance at the center of the room. He played a few songs, looping them every once in a while so that the drunk audience may be entertained for hours. It was the same tactic he had used at the inn by the road, that one time. Spending some time in other inns and listening to their bards might give him some valuable experience. He needed to expand his musical repertoire. That being said, he was already spoken for tomorrow morning; the guardhouse required him to repeat the tale he had told the guardsman.

Downing a quick soup along with packing away the four coins he made in excess, Jacob retreated to his room. A chance to rest in a bed was too good to pass up. Sleep, however, would not come peacefully.

Jacob woke up at the crack of dawn, a cold sweat coating his skin. He had dreamed of his parents and his siblings in the fire that took Leafburrow. Guilt overcame as he realized how little he had thought of his family; he'd been too preoccupied to lend them much thought. Finally living in a world of magic had taken up many of his dreams and thoughts prior to Leafburrow's sacking, while his mind was dead set on vengeance for Rod, now.

He buried the emotion, cracking open the introductory textbook. Sadness would not help him now. When he finished his quest, he could begin researching for a way home. That boiled down to the same thing everything else did, though. Figuring out his magic.