Inri slept with the wrapped book under his pillow, mindfull of his mysterious duty to keep it safe. The flea-bitten cat slept at his feet purring loud enough to wake the dead--who were, of course, their nearest companions.
It was strangely quiet to be away from the palace with is myriad of staff, three families, and over-indulged royal children forever shouting and screaming as they ran around pursued by ineffectual nursemaids and nannies. The discomforts of his new abode were surprisingly easy to bear as Inri discovered that solitude agreed with him.
He considered that there must be rats and other vermin in the room in some abundance, which was hardly surprising. The banked fire gave insufficient light to see them, but there was always an impression of fitful movement in the corners of the room or even across the ceiling.
It was a small price to pay for near silence. Inri pulled his blankets tightly about him and paid the stirrings and rustlings little heed.
Near dawn, Inri's sluggish mind was invaded by two competing thoughts. One was that there was someone standing at the foot of his bed. The other was that the lump under his head was the answer to his problem with the book.
Opening his eyes, the broad shadowy figure vanished as some wisp of a dream.
[At the foot of the bed was only the cat, anticipating a breakfast along the lines of the decent share of a mutton pie she had enjoyed for dinner the previous night.]
The lump, however, was still there.
"I am an idiot," Inri concluded.
The cat meowed agreement, but in a friendly way as if to say: yes, but you are my idiot now.
Lifting his somewhat deflated down pillow, Inri unwrapped the book and pulled out the stone.
"I was given a magic book… and a stone with a hole in it. Hardly a coincidence, right? Probably not just a paperweight."
The cat observed with polite indifference to his human babbling, but appreciating the not-likely-to-throw-stones-at-me tone of Inri's discourse.
Holding the stone in his hand, Inri reached forward and opened the cover of the book easily to reveal a page covered with a cramped but tidy script. Dark brown cursive looping densely over the rag paper in a bold hand still easy to read despite being considerably faded.
And this is what it said: