Clarence continued to read the text:
“Look, I know it seems a little odd,” said the Grimoire. “Why trust a book, after all?”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” said Clarence. “I’m more worried about this book pulling a Neverending Story on me and changing to reflect what I’m thinking or saying.”
“No shit,” Clarence muttered. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the page.
“How do you expect a book to speak with you?” the Grimoire cried. “How else but through the text? It’s not like a book has a mouth or vocal cords. And yes, I know in the context of the book you’re reading I’ve got lines and quote marks just like something with lips would. But that’s just for your sake. It may be confusing but just run with it.”
“All right,” said Clarence. “And my thoughts are apparently my dialogue, since even though I have lips I’m definitely not flapping them.”
“More or less,” said the Grimoire. “They’re edited a bit for coherence and to remove the occasional intrusive thought like fantasies about that girl in high school you never had the courage to ask out or even talk to.”
Clarence reddened. “Sheesh,” he mouthed.
“What do you want from me?” Clarence said.
“Oh, it’s simple,” said the Grimoire. “On the last page of me there’s an inscription. I need you to take me to the Pillars of Vladizapad and read them aloud in a commanding voice.”
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