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I exclaimed as I fully realised what I had done.  Lowfolk artifacts were barred from this Gate for a good reason!  Probably!!

I quickly dropped the book and cringed away from it, just in case it wanted to explode, or melt, or burst into a puff of poison gas or something.

The book lay quietly on the floor where I had dropped it.

After a long pause, I poked it carefully with my foot.

Nothing happened.

Still, better safe than sorry.  I whispered some Gramarye instructing the book to remain inert & harmless.  Then I carefully picked it up, dusted it off, and placed it in my Elfintory.

With this, I theorized I would be able to forge a sympathetic link with other copies of the Chanson du Percy, and locate them with the scrying tower.  Then, perhaps I could send Jerry off to collect them, thereby accomplishing two goals at one time.

I would have to be very careful in my dealings with him.  Though he may have seemed like a simple-minded goal-oriented lummox, I had to keep reminding myself that lowfolk were deceptively clever.  They could lie whenever they wanted to!  They were smarter than they looked!  They had powerful Wiles!  My ancient predecessors had been no match for them!

But before I had any dealings with treacherous lowfolk, I was going to have to run the gauntlet of plague-infected crows again.  Carefully I peeped out from under the trap-door cover, and looked around.

No sign of belligerent crows.

I picked up the large magickal tome I had dropped here earlier, and tucked it into my Elfintory alongside the Chanson.  I could put them on the shelf in the tower later.

Cautiously I emerged from the trap-door hole and stood on the upper porch.  No crows to be seen.  The field all around was eerily silent.  I tried not to look too closely at the ground, but my quick, furtive glimpses revealed no movement except for an occasional wisp of greenish vapor curling up from .. no .. I wasn't going to think about that!

I strode resolutely toward the tower and grasped the door handle.  I heard a soft pook behind me, followed by a familiar rattly buzzing.

"Ah, Sire, thou art safe," the Ixie addressed me, without getting any closer.  "How art thou feeling?  I love what thou'st done with thy hair."

"Where exactly have you and your sisters been since the battle?" I asked, trying to sound calm.

"Sorry for our protracted absence, Sire," the Ixie replied, still maintaining her distance.  "The area was beset with angry birds, and that is a game which we of the Ominous Orse do not play."

"The birds are gone," I observed, hoping that maybe she could explain it.

"Thus I am here," she stated uninformatively.  "I bring ill tidings.  Sergeant-Major Bonsai of the Shrub Knights, being their highest ranking surviving officer, is now Supreme Commander of all Imperial forces.  He hath heard of what he assumeth was thy treachery here at Albric Tor, and his battalion hath sworn a sap-oath that their Emperor shall be avenged.  They lie in wait, amassing their forces beyond the Gate toward Gladsome Antglade."

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