“But you came from my library,” gasps _______ ______.
The Bookplate just stands there, bound in leather with brass and black string, impassive, invulnerable: knightless armor. In its hand is a mighty pen.
“Ex blinking libris!” _______ pounds one hand on its chest. “Sitting there all this time like some useless affectation, and now we need you and you won’t even wake up!”
Pound pound pound. _______ sags, which brings the Bookplate’s keyhole to eye level, and incuriously peers inside.
“Oh,” says _______. Then: “How… how much can you give me?”
Come see, says the Bookplate, and opens with a flutter.