In a kitchen...
Niklas retrieves absolutely nothing from anywhere, as he has no pockets, being a squirrel. And there are no squirrel-sized cooking pots around here, either. Niklas finds this to be disappointing, but not entirely surprising.
In the cargo hold of the Second Shank...
Sigmund takes a closer look at the anti-magic laws surrounding the piece of paper. The main rule is "no magic", unsurprisingly, but, vague as such an instruction is, it requires further clarification.
The "no magic" knot is composed of several substrands. Firstly, nothing written on the paper is to be taken as an instruction upon the universe, with or without confirmation of an external entity. Secondly, the paper itself is not allowed to change its shape or the shape of other objects, even those like itself, wantonly or according to the whims of a user. Thirdly, the paper is not allowed to illogically and non-physically influence other objects or souls in any way, possible or impossible. Fourthly, the shape of the paper is strictly disallowed from imposing itself upon its surroundings or inducing other similarly-shaped objects to do the same. Fifthly, the fibrous cellulose structure of the paper is similarly prohibited from doing anything like that as well.
From there, each of the sub-rules extends downward almost infinitely, with terms explaining what the universe is, what the paper is, what's a soul-bearer and what any of the other terms in the law mean. It's shaped very much like a pyramid, in a way, and Sigmund can discern more than a bit of unwieldiness about the whole thing, not to mention a lack of redundancy in the structure. Also, there appears to be a little fraying at some points, and the knots are a little grubby from disuse.
Finally, while the core of the knot, the main rule, is untouchable as far as Sigmund can see, the same does not necessarily apply to the more distant bits, such as the one that defines who Sigmund is in this particular configuration, which is already leaning against his face in an unpleasant, pointy manner.
On the deck of the Second Shank...
Morton goes on being polite to the somewhat irritable-looking ghost on deck.
"Salutations, mage Justine. It's always a pleasure to meet a fellow second chancer; my name is Carter Morton, but most of my friends just call me Morton. I'm afraid I might have to disagree with your assessment on good mage Art, I assure you he's a phenomenal necromancer."
"Oh, salutations to you as well, second-chancer! I hope your day of perpetual enslavement has been as wonderful as mine. And I was merely jesting about our mutual friend, obviously. Of course I am thankful to him or her or whatever for getting me subjected to service from which death was but a temporary respite."
"That was hardly even my fault!"
"True, but it does not really change the fact that I rather dislike you for a multitude of other reasons as well."
"You've gotten a lot crabbier since your death."
"Reflection upon certain events does that to you."
As the Artiste listens carefully to the conversation, Morton grabs his attention with a question.
"Good master Artiste, have you seen good mage Erin or good sir Captain? We need their help most expediently, chef Niklas is in grave danger."
The Artiste looks around.
"Not entirely sure. I suppose Erin might still be asleep, though I can't say for sure, and the Captain was right here moments ago. Not sure where he went."
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 564018 times)