CHAPTER 8
“That’s the old edition of Eldendaer’s book. You want the later one. I’m sure I saw a copy over here…”
Penrys looked up in surprise at the man already turning away from her to scan the shelves. The half-dozen books under her arm sagged, and she shifted their weight to a more comfortable position, laying down the book she’d been holding open in her free hand to do it.
This was the most expensive bookstore in Tavnastok, off the main Bridge Square which catered more to the budget-limited. It was well lit, and so clean it didn’t smell quite real—the familiar scents of ink and decaying leather and paper were overlaid by sharp notes of something like vinegar. She hadn’t sneezed once since walking inside.
She’d never been able to afford many of its books when she’d been here last, a
