Free In Pursuit Of Wisdom (Book 1) by Steve M. Shoemake

desk was a large man, all in white as well.  The lamplight reflected off his shaved head, and as he looked up, massive jowls jiggled on either side of his clean-shaven face.  He looked surprised as he set down his quill.
    “Thomas, what can I help you with?”
    “Keeper, these three say they have business with you, and would not share it with me,” Thomas said with a hint of nervousness. “I have told them that you are very busy, and can spare no more than five minutes. This one calls himself Lionel.”
    “Very well.”  The Keeper of the Books stood and approached the three of them.  “ You may leave us, Thomas.”
    “As you wish, Keeper.”  Thomas departed through the heavy, open door.
    “Your scribe speaks truly,” the ranger said. “My name is Lionel.  You are Wyzle, Keeper of the Books?”
    “I am.  What is your business?”  The Keeper looked like his movements were limited to eating and writing.  Mostly eating, if Magi had to guess.  The man looked like a lump of warm jelly wrapped in white cloth.
    Lionel extended his hand.  “Keeper, it is an honor.  We seek a scroll, and have been told that it is in your possession here.  It is the Scroll of Tralatus.”
    “I see.  May I ask who sent you, or what you wish with the scroll?”  The large man leaned forward, as if looking to hear something.  For a moment, the only sound in the room was the flickering hiss of the torches.
    Magi spoke up this time.  “We seek only to duplicate it.  My Master, the True Mage Marik, asked us to retrieve a copy of it.”
    Lionel flashed Magi a look that screamed, I do the talking, remember?
    “ Ah.  Good.  Marik said he would send someone to copy it for his study.  I had to be sure.  Come—follow me.”  He led them to a large table between two aisles laden with books, scrolls, chests, pouches, statues, and pictures of various shapes and sizes.  On one of the upper shelves was a large, plain wooden box, covered in more strange runes.  The Keeper placed his hand on the box and whispered something that caused the box to glow ever so slightly.  He took the box down and placed it on the table.  He gestured to the two mages to take a seat at the table and handed them several sheets of parchment and quills.  Lionel stood by, watching.
    “Here, in the box.  You may open it now for 10 gold pieces.  Inside you will find the Scroll of Tralatus.  It may not leave this room.”
    Lionel was shocked as he stared at the Keeper of the Books.  “Ten pieces of gold?  Surely you jest?  The four of us could stay in this city for a month for less than that!   You seek to take advantage of Marik.”
    “I see.   I will be more than happy to send word on ahead of your journey home that his emissaries chose, in their own wisdom, to return empty-handed rather than pay my price.”  The Keeper began to put the box back on the shelf as the glow of the runes began to fade.
    “Wait!  Here.” Lionel reluctantly counted out 10 precious gold pieces and set them on the table.  “You’re worse than the damn fish peddlers.”
    The fat man smiled as the gold disappeared into one of the pockets in his voluminous robe.  “Thank you.  I will leave you to your work.”  He opened the box without so much as a glance inside and left through the door in the front of the large room.
    Lionel looked in the plain box and saw a large piece of parchment, old but in excellent condition, as if it had rarely been unrolled.  He turned to Magi and Kyle. “My friends, this is your area.  Can you take it out and read it?”
    Magi reached into the box and lifted the scroll out, spreading it out across the table.  Kyle looked over his shoulder, with Lionel right behind.  Nothing on the scroll made sense—it was in a language that Magi couldn’t even begin to pronounce.  Not that he would, even if he could.  Unlike spellbooks, a Scroll has magic bound up into it, and can only be used once.  Magi sighed.  “I sure would like