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“Yeah,” Izzy said, smiling faintly.
Drummond returned with a bottle of whisky in one hand and five glasses held against his chest with his other arm. He poured drinks for them all and they toasted each other silently and drank, even Cassie.
“Let’s do it,” Cassie said to Drummond. “Let’s get the books.”
Then she looked at Azaki.
“Are you ready?”
Azaki nodded, even though he was nervous.
“How does it work?” Lund asked. He pointed at the door Cassie and Drummond had come through. “This door is bigger than a safe door.”
“No idea,” Cassie said. “But we’re going to find out.”
Cassie got up, wiped her mouth with her sleeve, and walked over to the door again. She held the Book of Doors by her side as it fizzed and glowed, and then reached forward with her other hand to open the door. Instead of a corridor they saw a black solid wall, with what looked like the interior of a safe in a two-foot-square recess hanging about a foot off the ground.
“Is that it?” Izzy asked.
“Yeah,” Drummond said. “That’s her safe.”
Azaki watched as Cassie reached in and removed the books. She showed them to him each in turn, and Azaki studied them carefully.
“Can you make versions of these?”
Azaki nodded. He knew that he could, but he also knew the limitations of what the Book of Illusion could do. “But the illusion won’tlast forever. Hours maybe. A day or so if we are lucky. And I’ll have to concentrate the whole time.”
He wished he hadn’t had quite so much to drink over the last few hours.
“So we need to call the auction,” Cassie concluded, “in twelve hours’ time.”
“It took her that long to drive back,” Drummond commented. “When we were with the woman. She’s about a thirteen-hour drive away. If the Bookseller calls the auction, she’ll have to leave almost immediately.”
“So the illusion only needs to last as long as it takes her to get the books and go,” Lund said to Azaki. “Easy, right?”
Azaki smiled grimly, even though he thought Lund was trying to be supportive. “Yeah, easy.”
“Are we ready to do it?” Cassie asked, looking at each of them in turn. “Because when I call the auction, there’s no turning back.”
“Why not just take the books?” Izzy asked. “Just take the books and forget about her.”
Cassie shook her head. “We talked about this.”
“There are more books out there,” Drummond affirmed, pouring himself another whisky. “Better she’s gone for good.”
Azaki felt the tension in the room, a tightly tuned guitar string ready to snap.
“Okay,” Cassie said. “Azaki, create the illusions. And then I’ll call the Bookseller.”
“Leave her the Book of Mists,” Drummond said.
“Why?” Cassie asked.
“She likes to make an entrance, doesn’t she?” Drummond said. “If she tries to create mist and it doesn’t work, she’ll know the books are gone before we have a chance to deal with her. Leave her that. We’ll just have to take it off her when she gets here.”
Azaki nodded, and Cassie returned the Book of Mists to the safe.
Then Azaki went to work, the Book of Illusion in his hand sparking with soft light. He created simulacrums of each of the books they had taken and placed them in the safe. He gave them weight and texture, an illusion of substance, magic for the hands as much as for the eyes.
