"Theban! The language of the Wit-"
Warren yanked Gil close to him and clasped a hand tightly over Gil's mouth, muffling the shout from him. There was a moment where Gil was pressed so tightly to the young Lord's chest he could feel him hold his breath. His own heart pounded in his ear. Once, twice, three times. Long beats like a drum at the climax of a play, announcing the coming danger for the heroes.
Luckily, that Danger never came. The housekeeper and Stewart were too far down the hall to hear Gil's surprised shouts. It was for the best too, the young men's fear did not come unwarranted. Possessing books written in Theban was a capital offense. It was a crime not even the son of the state's governor could escape.
Warren finally loosened his grip on Gil but had to quickly find his hold again when he felt his companion slip towards the ground instead of regaining his composure on his own two feet.
"Do not lose track of your voice again. A manor home is known for the attentiveness of its caretakers," Warren warned, though he kept his arm around Gil's waist to keep him from collapsing.
Gil stared at him, open-mouthed for a moment. In all the years of his life, he would've never thought that this man with such a bookish disposition would do something as stupid, as foolishly reckless, as seek out text like this. He had never guessed that there would be danger in the hobby of book collecting.
"Warren. . ." His voice was still shaky. "You know what that is. . . it's a spell book, the personal writings of a Witch! Forbidden knowledge! You're treading on the grounds of the divine!" he exclaimed in as soft a whisper as he could muster at this point.
"Listen to yourself Gil, forbidden knowledge? The divine?" He scoffed, flipping through a few pages of the journal. "There should be no such thing as forbidden knowledge. If Cors is so divine and powerful do you really think that he'd just allow us to discover truths we shouldn't be able to learn? Don't you think he'd strike down those reckless fools instead of letting them write it down in a book?" he asked.
"You're the reckless fool!" Gil snapped again. "What you're saying is blasphemy, and what you're holding is taboo!"
He took his Master's hands as they held the book. "Please, you still have a chance, throw it into the fireplace, no one will ever know that you had it. Please!" He begged. Warren's grip tightened around the book, and his gaze grew more steely than Gil could ever remember seeing it.
"Gilbert."
His full name sounded as foreign as the writings of that book when it was spoken by Warren.
"You have a choice before you it seems," Warren said. He'd never sounded so much like a Lord when he spoke to him in private.
The choice didn't need to be said aloud. Gil knew what he meant. By confessing the existence of the book, Gil risked sentencing Warren to the hangman's noose for heresy. By keeping quiet Gil made himself an accomplice to his Master's explorations into the forbidden. There would be no leniency for a man's servant who willingly turned a blind eye to the defiance of the Divine.
Gil felt his heart beat in his chest like a drum. Once, twice, three times.
He took a few steps back before sinking into the couch behind him, wishing he could fold up and disappear between its cracks. "At least….tell me what it says. That way I can not blame you if I am punished for these trespasses. If I hold those forbidden words as well then these transgressions are mine as well," He said, his eyes locked on the floor beneath is feet. The carpet swirled and swayed like the waves of a pond after a rock is chucked unceremoniously into its waters.
Those waters were interrupted as his gaze was lifted to meet Warren's. He smiled at him, comfortingly, a warmth that felt misguided and out of place in the turmoil of the moment. Warren began to read. He gave Gil no moment to ponder how it was he knew the words of a language he had no right to speak.
"To those who turn, in this moment of lost hope, to the heavens for the answers to the troubled fate that has mounted against them. Do not beseech those who do not have ears to listen for help to guide you through the dense forest and the troubled ocean, but look amongst these pages for the songs of the trees and the waves. For only through understanding how each breath of the earth stirs each strike of lightning will you learn the language of the sky and the sea. Then, and only then, with the knowledge of the very existence of life will you be able to move through the darkness with absolute certainty.
This is the Grimoire of Edwina Eudora Rowena Rose. My this book be your match with which you create your spark."