For the first twenty minutes of the journey, nobody mentioned the grimoire.
Khan considered this a blessing.
From the twenty-first minute onward, Lillia Goldleaf apparently remembered that she had paid for a service.
She leaned forward in her seat, took the chained book from its cloth bag, placed it on the little table between them, and smiled.
"Well?"
Khan looked out the carriage window.
The city was already several miles behind them, half-swallowed by the spreading darkness of the Corrupt Storm. The Goldleaf caravan stretched along the road ahead and behind: nearly twenty wagons, flanked by mounted guards, hired adventurers and enough armed employees to suggest that merchant guilds in this world understood diversification.
He looked back at Lillia.
"Well what?"
"My grimoire."
"Yes. Still has teeth."
The grimoire snapped at him as though offended by the understatement.
Lillia folded her hands.
"I believe our agreement was three gold and two seats in exchange for an examination."
"It was."
"So examine it."
Khan glanced at Miriel.
Miriel immediately found the passing countryside fascinating.
Traitor.
[Contract enforcement detected.]
Don't start.
[Host accepted payment.]
I know.
[Host currently possesses no relevant expertise.]
I also know.
[Fraud enters operational phase.]
Khan stared at the translucent text.
You know, on Earth we had a browser called Internet Explorer.
[...]
I'm calling you that from now on.
[Clarification requested.]
Because you arrive after the information would have been useful.
The pause lasted long enough that Khan almost believed he'd won.
[Historical reference inaccessible.]
Exactly.
[Therefore insult effectiveness cannot be verified.]
Khan's eye twitched.
Lillia tapped the table.
"Is artifact research usually performed by glaring into empty space?"
"Advanced methodology."
Miriel made a suspicious choking sound beneath her hood.
Khan ignored her.
"First," he said, in the measured tone of a man who absolutely knew what he was doing, "I need to inspect the exterior."
He reached for the grimoire.
It bit at him.
Khan withdrew his hand.
"Hostile preservation enchantment."
Lillia's eyes lit up.
"You can tell?"
"Very clearly."
[He means teeth.]
Shut up, Internet Explorer.
Miriel's shoulders started shaking.
Khan gave her a warning look.
She somehow turned it into a cough.
Lillia loosened one of the chains enough for the grimoire to open approximately two inches.
Its covers strained against the remaining restraints.
Rows of tiny ivory teeth lined the inside.
Khan leaned forward.
There were symbols behind them.
The same ones he'd noticed before.
Three angular glyphs, repeating around the inner binding.
He waited.
Nothing happened.
Come on.
[Object scanning unavailable.]
Internet Explorer.
[Correct.]
That wasn't acceptance.
[Insufficient information.]
Khan leaned back and steepled his fingers.
"Interesting."
Lillia leaned closer. "What?"
"A confirmation."
"Of?"
Khan needed to produce approximately thirty seconds of professional-sounding nonsense.
Fortunately, finance had prepared him exceptionally well.
"The binding isn't merely physical. Whoever constructed this used the jaw structure as part of the containment mechanism. The script appears repetitive because it's probably reinforcing the same conceptual instruction from multiple directions."
Lillia stared at the book.
Miriel slowly turned toward him.
Khan continued before either could interrupt.
"If I'm right, the important part isn't what the symbols individually mean. It's what they're instructing the artifact to do."
It was speculative enough to be hard to disprove and intelligent enough to sound expensive.
[Fraud quality improving.]
Thank you, Internet Explorer.
[This was not praise.]
Lillia looked delighted.
"What do the symbols mean?"
There it was.
The cliff edge.
Khan looked at Miriel.
She looked back.
His expression communicated everything.
Help me.
Hers answered immediately.
You made me your assistant.
He narrowed his eyes.
She smiled beneath the hood.
"Khan?" Lillia prompted.
"Translation," Khan said, "is my assistant's specialty."
Miriel's smile vanished.
The System appeared.
[Delegation.]
[The cornerstone of fraudulent enterprise.]
Miriel slowly faced Lillia.
"May I see the markings?"
Lillia turned the book around.
The grimoire snapped at Miriel.
Miriel didn't flinch.
Her eyes traced the symbols, and something in her expression shifted.
Not recognition exactly.
Memory.
"These aren't human runes," she said.
Lillia's interest sharpened.
"What language?"
"Old Vharic."
One of the guards seated near the carriage door glanced over.
Khan noticed.
So did Miriel.
She corrected herself smoothly.
"Or a derivative of it. Several pre-imperial artifact traditions borrowed Vharic structures."
The guard lost interest.
Khan filed away another reason not to underestimate her.
Lillia pointed at the first symbol. "And that?"
Miriel hesitated.
"'Hunger.'"
The System flickered.
Khan straightened.
A window appeared.
[Keyword association detected.]
Well, well.
Internet Explorer had loaded the page.
Miriel pointed to the second glyph.
"'Memory.'"
Another line appeared.
[Keyword association strengthened.]
"And the third?"
Miriel leaned closer.
The grimoire growled.
She ignored it.
"'Devour.'"
The entire System interface flashed.
Khan nearly recoiled.
[Artifact contextual identification available.]
Finally.
A much larger panel opened.
[Artifact: Mnemosyne's Maw.]
[Rank: A.]
[Type: Sentient Grimoire / Knowledge-Parasitic Artifact.]
[Primary Function: Consumes written material and stores extracted information.]
[Secondary Function: Can reproduce consumed information in response to correctly structured queries.]
[Behavioral Trait: Strong preference for rare texts.]
[Warning: Artifact may consume magical inscriptions, contracts, maps, spellbooks, correspondence, currency notes, ownership deeds, or other information-bearing media.]
[Additional Warning: Feeding living flesh is strongly discouraged.]
Khan stared at the final line.
How strongly?
[Strongly.]
Helpful as always.
[You are welcome.]
Lillia was watching him.
Khan put on the distant expression of a scholar processing obscure magical principles, rather than a con man reading supernatural subtitles.
"I have it."
Miriel looked at him.
"You do?"
There was genuine surprise in her voice.
Khan gave her a look.
Professionalism.
She mercifully understood.
"It's a knowledge parasite," Khan said. "A sentient grimoire designed to consume information rather than simply record it."
Lillia's expression changed at once.
The playfulness vanished.
"What kind of information?"
"Written information, primarily. Books, documents, magical inscriptions."
He pointed at the teeth.
"The biting isn't a defense mechanism. It's feeding behavior."
Lillia slowly looked down at the grimoire.
It looked back.
Her sapphire eyes brightened.
Khan recognized that look.
"Do not look excited."
"I wasn't."
"You absolutely were."
"What happens after it eats something?"
Khan continued reading.
"It stores the information and can reproduce it later if you know how to ask correctly."
Lillia went very still.
That reaction, Khan understood perfectly.
Merchant.
Information.
Storage.
Retrieval.
He could practically hear coins materializing inside her head.
"You could feed it a ledger," she murmured.
"Probably."
"Contracts."
"Probably."
"Trade manifests."
"Yes."
"Competitors' correspondence."
Khan stared at her.
Lillia smiled innocently.
"I was speaking academically."
"Naturally."
[Potential friendship detected.]
Absolutely not.
[Shared behavioral trait: Financial predation.]
I'm starting to understand why you like her.
[Incorrect. I tolerate all humans equally poorly.]
The next question came.
Then another.
Then forty-seven more.
Lillia wanted to know its storage capacity.
Unknown.
Whether copied information remained after the source was destroyed.
Apparently yes.
Whether it understood languages.
Conditional.
Whether it could consume enchanted documents.
Yes, with risks.
Whether it could duplicate spell formulas.
Sometimes.
Whether it could be trained.
Unknown.
Whether it could eat another grimoire.
Khan stared at her.
The grimoire made an eager little clicking noise.
"Let's not test that."
Miriel helped where she could, translating fragments engraved along the inner spine, while Khan turned the System's annoyingly incomplete disclosures into language that sounded like the product of years of scholarship.
It became an exhausting rhythm.
Miriel supplied a keyword.
The System reacted.
Khan read.
Khan lied about how he knew.
Lillia asked something worse.
Repeat.
For four hours.
Four.
Hours.
By the second hour, Khan had developed a professional voice he privately hated.
By the third, Lillia had produced a notebook.
By the fourth, she was drawing diagrams.
Khan had also learned that the human spine was not designed for long carriage rides on medieval roads, no matter how expensive the carriage happened to be.
Every rut drove another complaint into his lower back.
He shifted.
Something cracked.
Miriel glanced at him.
"You seem uncomfortable."
"I'm fine."
[Host is not fine.]
Internet Explorer.
[Lower lumbar muscular strain probable.]
And you tell me now?
[Symptoms were observable earlier.]
I hate you.
[Consistent.]
Lillia looked up from her notes.
"You were saying?"
Khan straightened immediately.
Pain lanced through his back.
His soul tried to leave again.
"The fourth inscription likely regulates selective retrieval."
Miriel stared at him.
A tiny smile appeared beneath her hood.
She knew.
He knew she knew.
Neither acknowledged it.
Professionalism was all Khan had left.
The caravan stopped beside the river well after nightfall. Lanterns along the wagons threw pale light across the bank.
The call came from the lead driver, not Lillia. The horses had been pushed hard since leaving the city, and even wealthy merchants had not yet discovered how to negotiate with equine biology.
The moment the carriage door opened, Khan stepped down.
Then he made the mistake of straightening.
His lower back seized.
He froze.
No sound escaped him.
None.
His face, however, briefly achieved an expression normally associated with religious revelation.
Very slowly, he bent forward and planted both hands on his knees.
Around him, the guards began unhitching horses.
Caravan workers carried buckets toward the river.
Someone started building cooking fires.
Khan remained bent at the waist, staring at the grass.
His mouth opened in a silent scream.
[Host posture resembles elderly agricultural worker.]
I swear to God.
[Biological age: 18.]
Mentally 40.
[Spinal age currently estimated at 74.]
Fuck you, Internet Explorer.
Behind him came footsteps.
Miriel stopped beside him.
"Khan?"
"I'm appreciating the landscape."
"You are staring directly at dirt."
"Remarkable dirt."
She crouched a little.
"Your back hurts."
"No."
"You cannot stand."
"Temporary disagreement between myself and gravity."
Miriel stared at him for several seconds.
Then her expression softened.
"I can help."
That concerned him immediately.
"How?"
"Healing magic."
Khan turned his head as much as his spine permitted.
"You can heal?"
"Basic injuries."
The System chimed.
[Target possesses advanced demonic mana manipulation.]
Khan frowned.
How advanced?
[Advanced.]
Risk?
[Insufficient information.]
Internet fucking Explorer.
Miriel placed one hand near the small of his back.
Khan tensed.
"You're sure this is safe?"
She looked offended.
"I was taught by the royal physicians."
That sounded reassuring.
Then Khan remembered she was a demon princess.
Royal physicians for demons might consider "survived with most organs" a successful outcome.
"Perhaps explain what you're doing first."
"It is a simple restorative spell."
"Define simple."
Miriel ignored him.
Of course she did.
Her palm hovered an inch from his lower back.
Dark violet mana gathered between her fingers, so faint that the nearby workers didn't notice.
Khan did.
So did the System.
[Foreign mana detected.]
That sounds less reassuring than I'd prefer.
[Warning.]
Khan frowned.
That was new.
[Host possesses no internal mana network.]
I know.
[Foreign restorative spell attempting mana synchronization.]
And?
There was a pause.
[No synchronization target detected.]
Khan's eyes narrowed.
Internet Explorer.
[Processing.]
Miriel whispered the incantation.
"Vael sereth na mori... ithra velen."
The mana entered him.
Miriel's expression changed immediately.
Only slightly.
But Khan saw it.
Her brows drew together.
The spell had been designed to enter the patient's mana pathways, disperse through them, locate damaged tissue and repair it.
Khan possessed none of those pathways.
To the spell, his body was apparently a road map printed entirely in blank ink.
The violet warmth reached his lower back.
Stopped.
Then went looking for somewhere else to go.
Khan experienced three sensations in quick succession.
The first was warmth spreading through his lower back.
Pleasant.
The second was the sudden release of the muscle spasm.
Excellent.
The third was something sliding downward through his abdomen.
Less excellent.
Miriel's eyes widened.
"That isn't supposed to happen."
A cold thread of mana slithered through his intestines.
His stomach made a noise.
Not a subtle noise.
A deep, wet, traitorous gurgle.
Miriel slowly looked down.
Khan remained perfectly still.
[Restorative mana unable to establish circulation.]
No.
[Excess mana dispersing through available conductive tissue.]
No.
[Peripheral nerve stimulation detected.]
Internet Explorer.
[Pelvic nerve stimulation detected.]
Don't.
[Bladder contraction imminent.]
NO.
Khan tried to stand.
Too late.
His entire lower abdomen clenched with the absolute authority of a biological system that did not care about dignity, prophecy or social standing.
Warmth spread through the front of his trousers.
Khan stopped breathing.
Miriel stopped breathing.
A bucket hit the ground somewhere behind them.
Water splashed across the grass.
Silence moved outward like a shockwave.
Khan slowly looked down.
There was no negotiating with the evidence.
He had pissed himself.
At eighteen years old.
In front of a demon princess.
Beside a river.
A perfectly accessible river.
The universe possessed timing so malicious that Khan almost respected it.
[Incident confirmed.]
Don't.
[Urinary continence failure.]
Internet Explorer, I am warning you.
[Host has wet himself.]
I KNOW.
Miriel's face went white.
"Khan, I..."
He raised one trembling finger.
"Do not."
"I didn't mean..."
"Do not."
"Your body has no mana."
Khan slowly turned toward her.
"I am aware."
"No, I mean none. The spell had nothing to synchronize with. It shouldn't even be possible for a human to be that empty."
"Miriel."
"The restorative mana must have dispersed through your nerves instead and—"
"Miriel."
She looked at his trousers.
"…stimulated the wrong ones."
"Stop explaining."
She pressed her lips together.
Her shoulders trembled.
Khan's eyes narrowed.
"If you laugh, I will sell your kingdom."
That almost worked.
Almost.
A strangled noise escaped her.
Then another.
Miriel turned away, both hands over her mouth.
Khan closed his eyes.
Behind them, someone snorted.
He turned.
Half the nearby caravan had stopped working.
Two guards were staring determinedly at the river.
A stable boy had buried his face in a horse's mane.
One of the cooks had both hands pressed over his mouth.
And beside the carriage stood Lillia.
Sapphire eyes enormous.
Absolutely motionless.
For one hopeful second, Khan thought the merchant heiress might have enough refinement not to react.
Then she folded in half, laughing.
Not delicate laughter.
Not aristocratic amusement.
She grabbed the side of the carriage and wheezed.
Khan watched her.
Four hours.
Four hours of professional analysis.
Four hours of carefully manufacturing the image of a mysterious, eccentric artifact researcher.
Destroyed by approximately half a liter of urine.
Markets crashed more gracefully.
Lillia tried to speak.
"I'm..."
She failed.
Another fit of laughter took her.
"I'm sorry."
"You aren't."
"I'm really..."
She looked at his trousers.
That ended the attempt.
Miriel was now leaning against a tree.
"I said don't laugh."
"I'm not!"
"You are visibly shaking."
"I'm distressed."
"You're crying."
"From distress."
The System appeared.
[Reputation update available.]
Khan stared into empty air with murder in his heart.
Don't you fucking dare.
[Would host like to review?]
No.
[Reviewing automatically.]
A panel opened.
[Observed Titles Among Goldleaf Caravan:]
[Mysterious Artifact Researcher.]
[Scholar of Ancient Relics.]
[Young Master Khan.]
Those weren't terrible.
Then another line appeared.
[New candidate designation detected.]
No.
[The Leaking Sage.]
Khan's consciousness briefly achieved perfect clarity.
He understood himself.
He understood the universe.
He understood why men became villains.
"Internet Explorer."
[Yes?]
"When I find whoever created you..."
[Threat detected.]
"...I'm going to piss on their grave."
The System paused.
[Given recent performance, threat assessed as credible.]
Lillia collapsed against the carriage again.
Miriel made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a squeak.
Even one of the guards finally lost the battle and turned away, laughing.
Khan stood on the riverbank in soaked trousers, surrounded by strangers who now knew far more about him than any dignified man would prefer.
He looked up at the night sky.
Then toward the river.
Then toward the people laughing behind him.
He had been stabbed to death and reincarnated, then survived a demon princess, an approaching Corrupt Storm and four consecutive hours of fraudulent academic questioning.
This was what broke him.
"Nobody speak to me."
He began walking toward the river.
Miriel regained just enough control to call after him.
"Khan, your back is healed."
He stopped.
Very slowly, he straightened.
No pain.
Not even stiffness.
Khan stood there for a moment.
Then looked over his shoulder.
Miriel offered him a tiny, hopeful smile.
"See?"
Khan stared at her.
Then at his trousers.
Then back at her.
"Next time," he said, "leave me crippled."
The System chimed.
[Patient satisfaction: Low.]
Khan walked into the river fully clothed.