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“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.