Installment 44 [https://squirrel.dogphilosophy.net/Installment044.png]
Gertrude offered to butcher Gruntle's catch, and there was a seemingly endless supply of grilled venison that night. Bote returned from his wanderings around the village just as Al, Wikwocket, and Gruntle finished putting their things back in the room and were sitting down at a table to eat. He joined them with a contented smile and listened attentively as Al tried to explain to them what he'd learned in his research and experimentation that day. It generally wasn't easy to convey the esoteric concepts of wizardry to people without the education for it, but Al had found that trying to explain things to other people helped him understand them better.
He explained his modifications to the "floating disk" spell from what he had originally been taught. The arcane details weren't very meaningful to anyone else, but was at least able to describe how he'd come up with a way to alter it so that he could trade off how much it could carry for how long it would last, or vice-versa.
"It's not as efficient as the standard published version, but I can dilute it in space in order to concentrate it in time, or dilute it in time to concentrate it in space. It's really quite simple once you see how the pattern is arranged."
"Right, simple, of course. Never mind that, though," Wikwocket inquired, "the important part that I'm hearing is that I can ride the magic invisible cart all day now as long as I don't carry too much with me?"
Al sighed. "Yes, potentially. There's a limit to how much of that kind of magical intent I can impose on the world right now, though, so we shouldn't waste it. And speaking of magical intent imposed on the world..."
He tried to explain what he'd learned so far from reading Am die Auswelte Sachen und die Wände Dazwischen. He was less successful this time. Wikwocket's facial expression began to suggest that she thought he was making it all up as some sort of prank, and Gruntle began surreptitiously trying to reach his hand through his own shadow at one point when Al tried to explain how the Dreamlands were like "a shadow of the waking world".
"I see that wizards have their own mysteries to contend with," Bote finally said when he finished. "But I believe I understood at least some of it. What you are saying is that by strengthening the worldly intent of a person, they would be protected from influence by otherworldly beings who have intruded into our existence, yes?"
"That's the important part that I'm thinking about, yes. I don't think I can do it with just my own force of will right now, though, so I will need to use some kind of substance to help sort of hold the intent on whoever it's protecting. I think I might be able to do it with one or more metals. Both silver and iron have reputations for affecting certain kinds of otherworldly beings, perhaps one of those, or a mixture?"
Bote gave this some thought. "Or perhaps a substance carrying a blessing by a deity of our world?" he asked.
"I hadn't even considered that," Al mused. "Something like that would certainly be expected to carry the right kind of focus on our world's rules. It might be especially good if it's a blessing from a very worldly sort of deity. Is there something like a god of 'dirt'?"
"For all that exists in this world, there are deities whose essence permeates it. There are several for 'dirt', depending on what sort of context you are speaking in. I will ask for guidance before retiring to sleep tonight," Bote answered.
Al returned to their room after dinner to read some more. He also took out the codex that Melissa had given him, to read after he'd gotten further into Auswelte Sachen. As long as he was going to be trying to manage a gnoll, he wanted to understand them as best he could, and it seemed Melissa was likely to be the most experienced scholar on the subject that he would find anywhere. She also seemed to be a competent artist, judging by the illustrations she'd made for the "comparative anatomy" section of the work, where the differences in body composition, bone structure, and internal organ arrangements between gnolls, the beasts from which they were originally derived, and human-"ish" bodies were documented. There were a lot of similarities between all three anatomies but the demonic influence had induced some obvious changes.
Gruntle, Wikwocket, and finally Bote eventually came in one after the other and went to sleep, as Al stayed up late into the night switching back and forth between Melissa's discussion of the spiritual nature of gnolls and Auswelte Sachen's writings on how the Infernal realms impose themselves into the normal world. When he inadvertently fell asleep, he dreamed he was still reading.
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Al's odd dreams of wandering through ever-changing landscapes evaporated away quickly as the morning sun woke him. Wikwocket and Gruntle had gone out without waking him. Al assumed they'd gone hunting again. He couldn't complain. He had to admit that as plain as the village's cooking was, the last few days had fed them better than anything they'd had since they had left his home in Bright Peaks to start this whole venture.
Bote sat up with a contented yawn. "Before you sink back into the depths of your mysterious research, there is someone I should bring you to meet."
"If I ask who it is, is the Bote to whom I am speaking one who would actually tell me?"
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
"By asking that question, you make it seem that you still do not understand the Bote-nature."
"And, just like that, you've answered my question without actually answering my question."
"So, you understand some of the Bote-nature," Bote replied with a grin.
Al felt pretty sure that if he asked directly he'd probably get a direct answer, but that would be surrendering. They broke their fast on cold venison and set out through the village. Bote led Al meandering through the cottages and chicken coops. They eventually reached a cottage and coop that looked much like the others, though it seemed to be in better repair and had more land around it. Al started for the door of the cottage but Bote stopped him.
"No, we will find her back here, outside," he said, indicating the chickenyard behind the cottage.
Despite Bote's assertion, Al didn't see anybody in the chickenyard. There was also a surprising lack of chickens. Only a single white hen was there, pecking idly at the ground. She was admittedly an exemplary chicken. She was plump and clean, with not a single feather out of place, and she strutted proudly around the yard pecking at any insect or seed that dared reveal itself. No matter how impressive she was, though, Al was still baffled when Bote stopped at the gate to the chickenyard and bowed respectfully to her.
"This is Al, who I told you about yesterday. May we enter your sanctum?" Bote said. As far as Al could tell, the hen ignored them and continued chickening around the yard, but Bote seemed to take this as an answer. He opened the gate and motioned for Al to enter. Al wasn't sure what was happening, but bowed politely to the hen as well, and gave Bote a confused look.
"She is pleased with the service we have done for Henhaven. There is a gift for you in her nest."
"The chicken is pleased and has a gift for me?" Al asked incredulously.
"That is what I said, yes. Come, this way. Her palace is there across the courtyard," Bote answered, pointing to the chicken coop about twenty paces away. He led Al to it and pointed to the opening. Al shook his head in disbelief and looked inside.
If someone had asked Al to imagine a hen's nest, his imagination would have looked exactly like what he saw inside. Just a simple pillow of grasses and hay with a shallow depression in the middle to keep a hen's eggs safe and warm as she broods on them. Instead of eggs, though, this one had three small round glass bottles filled with what looked like water. Al immediately recognized them as having once held the health concoction they'd gotten from Notamimic Manor.
"A gift of three bottles of...chicken-water?"
"Exactly that!" Bote answered, looking very pleased.
Al had only known Bote for perhaps two weeks - to the extent that a cryptic person like Bote could be said to be known - but this was the first time he suspected Bote might be an actual prankster and not just fond of incomprehensible riddles. Al decided to play along.
"I accept this generous gift in the spirit that it has been offered," he said to the chicken with another polite bow. Bote gave him an approving nod as he reached into the coop and took out the three bottles. They were warm.
As they left, Al gave a deeper bow to the chicken, with a quick glance at Bote to see what their reaction was, but Bote just looked content.
They were almost back to the inn when Al finally gave in.
"Okay, you win. I don't get it. Why do we have a gift of bottles of chicken-water?"
"You said it would be useful to you, so I filled some of our empty bottles from the well, and she brooded on them overnight."
"When did I say I had a use for water that a chicken sat on?"
"A chicken did not sit on this."
Al rubbed his forehead. "You just said that the chicken brooded on it all night."
"Yes. I see, I thought you understood. That is the chicken. An avatar of the goddess Gallina."
Al stumbled, distracted.
"I was standing in the presence of actual divinity? This is holy chicken-water?"
"It is good that you were appropriately polite."
"I never in my entire life thought I'd have a manifestation of an actual god near me, especially not an actual god taking notice of me in particular."
"It's not as though it is the first time," Bote replied, grinning. Al stopped in his tracks, but Bote just continued walking and didn't elaborate.
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This time, Bote expressed an interest in seeing how Al worked, so he had an audience he could try to explain things to as he went along. This helped Al's clarity of thought as he revisited his reading from the previous day and worked out the appropriate patterns and invocations for what he wanted to accomplish. He annotated the procedure in his book of notes and picked up one of the bottles of water that had been, apparently, specially blessed by the butt of the holy chicken. Despite sitting on the floor for a few hours, it was still warm. Al pulled the stopper from the bottle and tasted a small sip of the contents, which turned out to be indistinguishable from completely ordinary clean water, other than the unnatural but pleasant warmth that seemed to continue all the way down his throat. He splashed a bit more onto his hands and rubbed it on his face, and then ran through the few seconds of chants and gestures he'd devised. The warmth spread through his whole body.
"I think it works," Al reported as he considered what he was experiencing. "It feels like it will slip away if I stop thinking about it, but it's like I'm making myself more...solid? Real? I won't know precisely what that accomplishes until I test it somehow, but I feel confident this gives me some degree of protection from otherworldly influences. Hmmm, I wonder if this would have any effect on Gruntle?"
Moments later, small, quick footsteps ran up outside, and the door was pulled swiftly open to reveal an out-of-breath Wikwocket. She blurted out her urgent request as she gasped for air.
"Follow me! Gruntle needs help! Al, bring the invisible cart!"