I made sure every book got a Title, as generic as I could make it, with a short description accentuated by taping a paper strip to them to make sure. There were half a dozen minor Summoning creature Names introduced in them that Gregorigori’s database didn’t recognize, so all those were on the stack... and went into The Mick’s private stash. There were arrays of simple spells in various formats, mostly less efficient than the ones that had become standardized.

            After all, it was basically possible to create the same spell effect by multiple means. Air to Fire, Conjure Elemental Blast, Ignite Air, Concentrate Fire, Curse of the Converging Sun, blah blah... there were usually at least three ways to do many spells, if you were a little inventive. Couldn’t Cast Healing spells? Summon something that could! Didn’t have a Detect Spell? Evoke a Light that reacted to the item you wanted to scan for!

            Of course, this required a VERY thorough understanding of magical rules and a lot of development time to go with them, neither of which was in effect here. Standard spells were thus standard spells.

            That said, standard spells became standard spells because they were the best and cheapest way to do an effect. Necromancy was the best way to Animate Undead, but Curse Magic, Illusion/Shadow Magic, and Transmutation could also do the job, just not as smoothly.

            It was kind of fun seeing all these variants, as they just popped up more stuff on my own interior Wall, which I then Wrote over to my Ring. Wizard-types weren’t considered ‘real wizards’ until they had invented their own spell, even if it was just a variant of an existing spell. Trying to avoid something like, oh, accidentally casting a V on yourself and blowing yourself to bits from uncontrolled spellfire while researching a new Cantrip meant you were very skilled and very smart, or you didn’t do that sort of thing.

            Hence, it was the line you stepped across to be a true Wizard.

            Thus, madmen tapping into things they shouldn’t know, Clerics and Druids downloading the whole spell list, and Sorcerers tapping Bloodlines were the primary resources for new spells.

            I read through the books with Bibliophile, and The Mick expressed his interest in learning that spell. I eyed him for a moment, and decided to trust Sama.

            A Sylunar Sister on standby went to get proper ink and an empty book, and I Wrote out two spells for The Mick for his private Libram, Bibliophile and Copy Book. He got VERY interested on seeing the second spell, which enabled you to either swap the contents of one book and another, copy the contents of one book to a blank one, or steal the contents of one book into another, depending on the Valence you cast it from.

            I gathered some sneaky lifting of some precious volumes from the private collections of some of the members of his Clan would be going on henceforth.

            The book I was making with Written pages of the summarized contents of all these findings of ours was a few hundred pages long when I finished.

            I copied the full contents of it to the empty book The Mick carried around, and he beamed.

            The Sylunar copied the full contents to the book they had brought in, Bibliophiled it, were very impressed with the results, and had no objections whatsoever to us taking the original sources.

            They brought in an expert to look over some of the carvings and statuettes, figuring two were trash, one was of human make by someone demented, one was done by a really disturbed artisan, and the remaining three pieces were not done by humans. Two of them were probably by undead, and the last, a bas-relief done in multiple pieces and types of bone, depicting a hellscape of souls being burned, devoured, evolved, and tearing at one another in battle, all at once, had probably actually been done by a real demon.

            If the Shroud wasn’t up, this thing could have served a focus component for a fairly large-scale Summoning spell. Since the Shroud was cutting off other planes, it was just a too realistic, nightmare-inducing, Tainted piece of art.

            We destroyed over half the books outright, as there were copies in existence, and we had absolutely no incentive to keep them around. As for the rest, I summarized the key information in my reference volume, and they would be stacked up and boxed somewhere as source material I might want to come back to when my Lore was higher, and I could look for the patterns within patterns... as I actively purged a bunch of the finer details and stuff from my memory, just so I wouldn’t be caught in the kinds of mnemonic traps these things liked to be infected with.

------

            Dawn was breaking as I closed the last book. Master Fred was outside, where he had melted most of the curiosities down to slag, with only one statue of reptilian beings fornicating nabbed by The Mick as something he would swap to a fine and upstanding member of the clan who just might have an unhealthy interest in the reproductive techniques of various races.

            “Damn,” The Mick said, also sitting back, turning the pages of his almost-completely filled book. “Miss Traveler, I do not say this lightly, but you are damn good at this.”

            “No need for compliments. Just throw gold.” He smirked despite himself. “That should probably clear any debt to you, yes?”

            He nodded slowly. “If anyone asks, yes. Honestly, I think those first two spells would. I’m going to get some nice use out of them.”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

            “Would you like me to look through your Libram?” I asked calmly, and he frowned for a moment.

            “That’s... a little direct, even for a Wizardess, right?” he murmured.

            I gave him a sidelong glance. “Call up Sama and ask her exactly how much I’m likely to desire ANY spell you have in there, and then think about how effective it might be in the future for me to know what spells you do and don’t have.”

            He put on a warped smile again. “You crazy Good people make healthy paranoia seem so bloody self-defeating.” He pulled out his Traveling Libram from that Item Pocket combo he had inside his suitcoat, and handed it over.

            I flipped through it, page after page, noting his style of spell recordings was extremely artistic, the ink had a strong component of blood and bone, and none of the actively used pages were above Valence II, as he was a Wizard/3. As a matter of fact, he only had three III’s in there, and they were written on the last pages deliberately, with empty space in between them and the others. Just in case he broke through, I guess...

            “You’re a Necromancer specialist. Opposed Charm and Conjuration?” That was pretty unusual from one perspective, but if you considered the magical abilities of the Blooded, perhaps not so much.

            “Correct.”

            “I say this because it’s very bad for the Tome-Tainted... are you going to try going the use of undead route?”

            His face twisted in a scowl. “You have no idea how natural and tempting that path is.”

            I very slowly lifted my eyes skywards, looked at the Haze I could perceive right through the ceiling, and the faint impressions of the damned and trapped souls within. Then I slowly brought them back down to look into his eyes. “Oh, I might have a small idea...”

            He flushed, making his skin even paler than usual. “Ah, right. But, no. Commanding the enslaved undead against one another, and bringing them down. I am trying to resist the idea of creating undead servants...”

            “Slaves,” I corrected him neutrally.

            “Slaves,” he agreed, without blinking an eye, “who would be excellent supplements and aids in various ways. It is also why I opposed Conjuration and Charm.”

            “Are you opposed to learning White Necromancy?” I inquired, closing his Libram and pushing it back to him.

            “No, but I do not have the mindset that most White Necromancers seem to. Putting the souls of others to rest is a bit less important than killing those what need killing outright.”

            I considered his point, and had to nod. “There are several spells I am aware of that might be useful to you, but I can’t Write them down right now. I will endeavor to get them to you in the future. Given your nature as Blooded, they should prove effective in your chosen line of work.”

            He put away his Libram calmly, and inclined his head to me. “Thank you for your consideration. I am aware of the value of magical spells, and will not forget the favor.”

            “Given how you’re likely to be using them, probably not,” I agreed with a wink. “Most importantly, it should be able to shift your instinctive focus away from necromancy to something even more specialized... blood.”

            His eyes narrowed sharply. “There’s a school of blood magic?” he asked alertly.

            I rolled my eyes. “Lord Mick. Wizards are, by definition, geniuses. Geniuses are eccentric and obsessive. Give them enough time, and there will be schools of magic of literally EVERYTHING. Blue Magic. Wolf Magic. Oak Magic. Fish and Chips Magic. Why Did The Chicken Cross the Road Magic. It all gets quite ridiculous.

            “It shouldn’t surprise you that someone went all-in on Hematurgy, trying to sidestep all the blood sacrifice crap to greater powers and use blood as a power source. It’s variously a subset of necromancy, a fusion of vivimancy and transmutation, or a squicky mix of bioshaping and arcane power.

            “It also shouldn’t surprise you that dhampir end up being naturals at it, and it replaces a necromancy specialization rather smoothly.”

            “That does indeed sound interesting.” His eyes had crimsoned a little bit. “I eagerly await the chance to hear more, Lady Traveler!”

            “Give me time, and stay away from the undead shit. It is really, really Bad for you long-term, and I mean that in the most extreme ways.”

            His smile was grim, his eyes flickering elsewhere. “I have withstood the temptation this long. I can take it further, especially with a friendlier light at the end of it,” he promised firmly.

---------

            “Slag clean?” I asked Master Fred as we walked outside to greet the morning sun... which we couldn’t really see.

            AS IT CAN BE, he confirmed. POLISH IT UP, THEY CAN PUT IT IN A REFLECTING POOL SOMEWHERE.

            Out of Tainted shit, make Serene shit. Why not?

            The Mick politely waited around for the Salute to Aru, the irony apparent on his face as he felt Natural Renewal sweeping past, and with it the first rays of the sun that were so hostile to his Elders. Then, with his new lore, his tradable collectibles, and his reputation for being efficient to work with intact, he headed out in Bone Marrow.

            The horn sounded like the hunting call of a werewolf. I lifted an eyebrow, saw him flash a satisfied smile, and off he drove to Baltimore, and final discussions with an unwise Elder.

            “Quite a character for a Blooded,” I noted. “Quite a bit more self-aware than most of his kind.”

            CONFLICTS BETWEEN UNDEAD DEFINE RUTHLESSNESS. HE TOOK THE STEP PAST IT TO BECOME SOMETHING CAPABLE OF WREAKING VENGEANCE UPON THEM. I DOUBT HIS DESIRE TO KEEP HIS SOUL CLEAN AND FLESH PURE IS TO SAVE HIMSELF. HE JUST WANTS TO MAKE THE BASTARDS PAY FOR THE SHIT THEY’VE DONE.

            “So, it’s up to us to save him, despite himself.” I offered a sleeved elbow, and he tapped it with his own. No flaring of irritated hellfire. “Alright, let’s get moving again. What are the odds there’s more work to do on the way?”

            VERY CLOSE TO A HUNDRED PERCENT, he replied, walking with me towards Sleipner, who had wandered out of the church’s lot, and then back into it not long ago. The Sylunar had already said their goodbyes, and although this had been a pretty exciting night, and they were definitely interested in me, they were also relieved when it was time for us to go.

            I assumed it was mostly because of Master Fred. He was something of a trouble magnet. The Head Priestess also definitely wanted the charming vampire clansman who was so cheerfully chatting her subordinates up out of there...