After eating: (Patreon)
Content
If only I had a bowl and some water, I might be able to use that dream-scrying trick Estvan had taught me, to influence their dreams. But, not knowing where a bowl of water might be located made it practically impossible to apport one. Transmogrifying something else into a bowl of water could be done, if I had time to figure it out ... but these lowfolk were not going to stay down for much longer.
Thinking of ways to influence their dreams reminded me: I had been able to hear the male lowfolk's thoughts earlier. How was that possible? Every time before, I'd had to concentrate really hard to use Elfmind, yet this came effortlessly. Was the stone circle amplifying my powers? Or ... it pained me to think of it, but ... had I somehow absorbed all of the power of those countless elves I had killed outside of Albric Tor?
I focused my attention on the male lowfolk and immediately got visions of some extremely devout Mephitist daydreams he was having, involving his female companion. Maybe with the right persuasion he would believe this is what really happened - but it would require the female to play along with the same story. I concentrated on her, but all I got was a swirling bluish cloud.
That could mean two things: Either she was actually dreaming of a swirling bluish cloud, or she was somehow blocking me.
I decided not to try to plant any suggestions into their dreams, since even if they concocted the story themselves, it seemed awfully close to lying - and this was a thing that Elves do not do!
I mulled over the traditional pranks which Estmere and I used to pull on the lowfolk when we were young.
I wiped a tear from my eye, as recollections of Estmere reminded me of his sad fate..
None of the pranks seemed like they would be any kind of incentive for these lowfolk to return. Plus, I didn't have any of the necessary props.
Ultimately, all I could think of was the old Elf-gold routine. I was running out of time, so I quickly gathered a few handfuls of rocks and sticks from the ground inside the circle, and Gramaryed them into gold coins, which I dumped into the picnic basket. Hopefully the lowfolk would presume that I had traded a small fortune for their picnic, and spend the gold quickly, before the spell wore off and it turned back into forest litter.
With that task done, I hurried back into the dolmen and through the Gate.
I noticed a strange tugging at my Elfintory as I passed through.
A quick check revealed that the Percy le Gobelet book was missing! I stepped back through the Gate, and saw the book lying on the ground underneath the dolmen.
I picked it up and stepped through the Gate again, but as I passed the threshold, the book was pulled out of my hand.
Apparently this Gate was attuned in such a way that nothing from the lowfolk world could pass through it. I scratched my head in annoyance, and whispered a prayer of thanks to Fuma that the rule didn't apply to all the food I had recently eaten.
I turned my attention to the trap door at the top of the spiral stairs. Would the Plague-infected crows still be outside? Or perhaps, had the temporal discrepancy between the worlds worked in my favor? With luck, the fumes of the Plague of Battles might have dissipated, and the irritable birds be long-dead by now!
I slithered out from under the trap door, and was immediately greeted with a chorus of angry cawing. I sprinted frantically for the door of the tower.
As I darted inside and slammed the door shut behind me, I remembered that someone (was it Estvan?) had explained to me once that the temporal shift was related to distance traveled ... so if I was confined to a very small area on either side of the Gate, there was little chance of jumping ahead in the timeline of either world.
This meant that I had plenty of time to study the workings of this scrying tower.