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The Quest For Magic

The sign on the ancient weathered bookstore eve swayed drunkenly in the gusty wind, making it difficult, but not impossible to read: "Books, bought and sold", and underneath in smaller characters: " Sapere Hunter, proprietor". I opened the dark mahogany door, which had been worn smooth by countless patron's hands. The brass customer welcoming bell tinkled to alert Mr. Hunter to my presence. I entered and shut out the brisk Autumn breeze, with the smell of fallen damp leaves and the recent rain upon it. I turned back to the cozy shop lined with rows of shelves filled with countless books and manuscripts in a dizzying variety of sizes, colors and ages. The smell of leaves and rain was soon replaced by the musty smell that very old paper and leather acquire

My attention was soon drawn to the emerging figure of an older man, perhaps sixty, who bright eyes and demeanor belied his age. His belly had seen many good meals, probably washed down with a good stout ale, but he was not what one would consider fat. He dusted his hands on his brown leather apron as he approached, beaming in jovial welcome, "Hello, hello! Please come in and make yourself at home! Let me take Your coat, Mr. Sapere Hunter at your service young sir".
"Please, call me Phylos, Phylos Ducere, Mr. Hunter" I said, holding my damp coat towards his hands, which had seen a lot of hard work , by their callused appearance. "And you, Phylos, may call me Sapere" He said as he hung my coat on the wooden coat rack by the door. "Now, is there anything in particular that I may help you find, or would you prefer to browse undisturbed?", He inquired of me. "I noticed that your sign mentioned that you purchased books and manuscripts", I said, " I was wondering if you might be able to tell me the value of a certain manuscript I have acquired, as well as it's age, I would pay any reasonable price for your service". "Of course", He replied, " I would be glad to appraise your book, say for the price of a good dinner and a pitcher of Dragon's Dark Ale over at The Stupefacient Dreams', I could meet you there after I close up shop, say around 5:30 p.m.?" "Excellent Idea!" I said, "I could sure use a hot meal and a pitcher of stout after the long ride from Hartford , and I remember passing the Stupefacient
Dreams' on my way here, not far from my room at the Willow Spring Inn. I shall order and have a table waiting, see you at 5:30 Sapere".
I had just poured my second mug of ale when Sapere joined me,

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