Empirical Gnollage: Installment 56 [https://squirrel.dogphilosophy.net/Installment056.png]

"Ah, yes, now I can see the illusion covering the pit. It's got a bit of a glow that suggests it's divinely maintained, so the religious authorities who built the tomb must have put it there on purpose. That's funny, the mural on the wall behind it is part of the same illusion, the only part that's real is the stone wall itself and the part with the carving of the scroll one of the figures is holding. No wonder it was so well-preserved. Okay, let's take a look at what you found down there."

The set of tools for picking locks, disarming traps, and similar delicate work weren't magical, just well-preserved by whatever they had been coated with. The dagger, on the other hand, had an obviously unnatural solidity in Al's magically-sensitive view.

"Well," Al announced, "as far as I can tell without investigating it in more detail for a while, it looks like it's just a simple dagger. But...it is magical."

Wikwocket squealed with delight and grabbed the dagger before Al could warn her away from it. Oh, well, he thought, it didn't look like there were any hints of anything malevolent. I'd be able to see at least something if there was, wouldn't I?

"So, what does it do?" she asked, twirling the dagger in her left hand, slashing and stabbing at an imaginary foe in front of her. "Do I say the magic word and it transmutes people I stab into cheese? Does it give me the power to command hedgehogs? Does it talk! No, I do not talk, I am just a dagger, but I probably do some other amazing magical things though!" she finished, speaking in a squeaky voice for the dagger. Al put his hand over his face, partly in exasperation, and partly to hide his attempt not to laugh.

"It's a dagger. It stabs things," Al told her.

"It's magic, though, what else can it do?"

"I'm pretty sure it can cut things, too."

"But any dagger can do those!"

"Right, but this one has magic to enhance it."

Wikwocket gave Al a skeptical look. "If it just does what every other dagger does, what makes it magic?"

"You know how most scholars these days say magic is ambient Chaos crystallizing around seeds of intent into reality?"

"I don't speak Elvish," Wikwocket answered.

"It exists a little beyond normal reality. The magic makes the manifestation of the dagger more real."

Wikwocket raised her hand. "Professor, my mind is full, may I go take a nap?"

Al sighed and tried again.

"It's supernaturally extra daggery."

Wikwocket looked thoughtful. "Almost got it, I think," she said.

Al rubbed his forehead in exasperation.

"I suspect you could probably stab a ghost with it."

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"Why didn't you start with that? That's great!" Wikwocket exclaimed happily. "Do you think we might get attacked by a ghost in here?"

"I don't mean it's just for stabbing ghosts, I just mean the magic makes it better at stabbing and cutting things than any ordinary dagger should be able to. It ought to be able to stab some things that an ordinary dagger wouldn't be able to stab, and even things that normal daggers can stab are probably stabbed more effectively than an normal dagger would."

"Now you're making it complicated again. Let's just go with it stabs ghosts and I'll figure it out from there."

She tossed the dagger into the air, watching it tumble end over end, and caught it smoothly as it came back down. "Now, what was that you said about a secret wall?"

"What? Oh, right. That mural on the wall behind the altar is also an illusion. It's just a plain stone wall, except right there where the illusion shows what I assume is an elven priest or librarian or something taking a scroll off of a shelf. Or, maybe putting it back...anyway, the shape of that scroll is really carved there in the actual stone wall."

"Ah, HA!" Wikwocket shouted. "That will be the secret trigger that awakens the angry ghost of the hero to rise and take vengeance on the living, and then I can stab him and save us all!"

Al shook his head. "I doubt that," he said. He stood up slowly, holding onto his focus on the swirling ambient magic of the place. He worried as he saw Wikwocket run around the illusionary altar to the wall. "Please try not to anger any ghosts," he pleaded.

"I'll try," Wikwocket answered as she knelt down to feel around the bottom of the wall, "but you know how ghosts are."

"I don't think the one we found in Wulfcynn Keep entitles me to say that I know how ghosts are, no."

Al watched nervously as Wikwocket traced the bottom of the wall behind the illusion, then up as far as she could reach at either end of the illusionary mural.

"Yup! See, this wall moves! Get ready, I'm going to let the ghost out!"

"What? No! Wait!" Al objected, but Wikwocket reached up with the tip of BiteySue to poke at the wall where the carved scroll protruded, and it slid inward effortlessly. There was a quiet clicking sound, and the whole section of wall began to sink into the floor.

There was no angry ghost behind the wall.

Al was begrudgingly impressed to see that not only was the illusionary mural expertly bound to the section of wall such that it slid downward along with the real wall, it also accurately depicted the placement of the shelves of scrolls and the small writing desk that was on the other side. A burst of cool and unexpectedly dry air blew out of the opening.

"Oh, come on!" Wikwocket complained, stepping into the tiny library. When she was not accosted by angry dead people, she tried stabbing gently at the scrolls on the shelf with her rapier, but if any of them were mimics, they were either dead or very tolerant of pain.

"I see you have found the treasure of this place," said Bote, admiring the small collection of scrolls on the shelving. Al approached carefully to look everything over. All of the scrolls were of fine paper, perfectly preserved, all labeled on the outside in Elvish script. On one shelf, a few smaller scrolls glowed with a divine radiance in Al's magically-focused sight.

"No idea what any of these writings are," he reported, "but at least these here have live divine magic in them."

"That may be fortuitous for us. Those will likely be Manifest Benedictions," Bote said.

"That's divine blessings bound to written words, right?" Al asked. "Is that something we should be touching?"

"You are correct, they are manifestations of divine Authority that an appropriate reader may call upon once. As I have mentioned, I am not especially familiar with Elven religious tradition, but we have been permitted to find this place, and it does not appear anyone else has had use for any of it in a very long time, by the standards of anyone who is not an elf. Perhaps our role is to preserve these works before the decline of this structure results in their loss. I recommend that we return to this chamber and take them with us when we are finished, unless we are given a sign that we should not."

"Could I do anything with the magic god words?" Wikwocket asked hopefully.

"You do not seem like one who is called to divine service, so probably not."

Wikwocket huffed. "Boring. I guess what we're looking for isn't in this part of the building and there are no ghosts that need stabbing. If there's nothing else to see here, let's go look somewhere else!"

They collected themselves and set back out the way they came in, after delaying a few minutes for Wikwocket to try - unsuccessfully - to convince Al to conjure up the "magic invisible cart" to carry one of the chamber's magical ever-burning braziers with them.

"We're not looters," he reminded her, "We came to deliver something, we shouldn't try to just walk away with anything that isn't nailed down. Besides that, I don't want to annoy any of the Elven gods that might take notice, and I don't want to be lugging a giant magical fire with me everywhere I go, attracting unwanted attention."

"What about my new dagger?"

"That clearly belonged to the trespasser who died in that pit, not to the tomb, so that should be safe."

"Rationality is no fun," Wikwocket finally conceded.

"No, I suppose it really isn't," Al reluctantly admitted.