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[Lady Mal]

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The late afternoon sun spilled in through one of the windows as Mal sat, reading a rather large and very dusty old tome. Turning one of the delicate, crispy pages was patient work, for the tome was so old that if handled recklessly, parts could crumble. To be sure, it would take a scribe of some skill to understand the handling of such books, and luckily, Mal was just such a scribe. In fact, she was presently copying the weathered volume, desperate to preserve it's secret knowledge for yet another century, at least.

She did not find the work boring, for with each turn of every wizened page came forth the knowledge she had sought for so long. Between her studies and explorations, she had not entertained the slightest idea that she might find this book stored here, on a long forgotten shelf in the back of the hidden mage shop.

She turned for a moment to take into account the dilapidated shelf. The shabby old thing was not even worthy to hold a tome such as this. She made mental note to take all of the original works with her when she had completed her task.

The mages outside were isolationists, preferring to live alone in this valley, rather than live in a larger city where they might actually make a decent profit. It was no wonder they had neglected to maintain things, they hadn't the gold for such. Soon, she would free them from that responsibility.

She turned the final page in the old book and re-inked her pen. She tapped the jar a few times with the quill to shake free the extra ink. Dragging the pen over the parchment, putting fresh life into words long forgotten, this was joy. To preserve knowledge. Was there ever a more worthwhile chore? Mal didn't think so. She smiled at the completion of the last page in her own volume, and gently closed the ancient tome.

She called to her beetle, beckoning. With careful deliberation, she packed the old book in the beetle's pack. She also moved several of the volumes from that broken down old shelf into the pack. When she had transferred every book from the shelf to the pack, she made sure they were all tucked snugly and padded, so as to ensure they wouldn't jar on the journey.

She packed her quills and inks into her backpack, then she hefted the sack and slipped it on. Giving one last look at the aged shelf, she shook her head. It just wouldn't do to leave this old worthless thing behind. She summoned forth a fireball and lit the old wooden shelves. It went up rather quickly, and in a matter of minutes was no more. As the building was made of stone, the fire did not spread, and Mal quickly extinguished it with a cold spell. She wondered if the mages above would even remember the shelf had exhisted at all. The only thing visible now was a charred bit of wall and floor, which didn't seem out of place in the dishevelled room.

She climbed carefully onto her beetle and gave it a friendly little pat on the head. Chanting "Kal ort por", she soon found herself at home and she hurried inside to put the revered books away.