"That was quick,"

I stated as I ambled over to speak with Rebecca.  Then, thinking of something Angela had said, I asked:  "Did you say those books you found at the O'Daisies were waterlogged?"

"Oh yes, My Lord," Rebecca replied.  "They were starting to swell up and the pages were all curly.  I copied out the only parts that were still legible."

Did that mean that Ash had appropriated them?  When my Ixie spy recovered from her debriefing, I would have to ask her about the "soggy old books" she saw the old fox collecting.

"All right, let's see where you got to in the Foxspell," I said, squatting next to her.  She indicated a page which contained the text of a familiar Mephitist hymn about Fuma in heaven, singing the elements into existence and then exploding them to create the Shining Land.

"You've made a lot of progress," I observed, noticing how many pages she was into the book already.  "That was fast."

"It is a real page-turner, My Lord."

"So this part here says 'lorem ipsum' and is in the language of your so-called Overspell?" I asked, pointing at the hymn.

"Yup."

"Just out of curiosity, how many languages and writing systems do you lowfolk - I mean mortals - have?  Three?  Five?"

"Oh, more than that, My Lord," Rebecca giggled.  "Why, just on this island there are still old tribal languages for Horse, Rabbit, Dog, Deer, Fox, Wolf, and Potato.  They share mostly the same alphabet but the vocabulary and spelling are completely different.  Some old timers still write with Ogham, and up north they use Runes.  The Monkeys write in funny little jots and dashes, and the fancy ungulates from Spain have an even stranger writing system made of loops and curls."

This was going to be more complicated than I thought.

"Okay then," I said with a shrug.  "Tell me what you've learned from reading this book so far."

"Well, Fuma is the supreme Goddess of the heathen elves, and this fun-loving trickster Reynard is her worshipper and consort."

"Yes, yes," I said encouragingly.  "And how would you describe Fuma after reading this?"

"Fuma is great," Rebecca grinned.  "She is beautiful and terrible, truly a formidable force of nature, a dark and bloodthirsty goddess of violence and carnal desires who bends mortals - especially males - to her will.  Reynard's hilarious japes are not only an act of worship but are also meant to cause chaotic ripples that destabilize the rational order, sowing the seeds of evil and creating much more chaotic outcomes further into the future.  Like the butterfly effect."

"Butterfly what now?" I interjected.

"The butterfly effect," Rebecca reiterated.  "It's the way something small creates a series of events that become much bigger later on.  Like how a butterfly flapping its wings causes hurricanes on the other side of the world."

What was the meaning of this?  Did lowfolk butterflies truly possess such terrible power?  I made a mental note to investigate further when I had the time.

"I think you might be over-analyzing things," I told Rebecca.  "Instead of constantly viewing things through the lens of your very specific preconceptions, try to see things as they are right in front of you.  Perhaps instead of thinking the author of this book is trying to cause mass chaos through inches, he might just be having some harmless fun that both he and the recipient can laugh over.  Also, why on earth would you think Fuma is bloodthirsty?"

"Because she is a goddess of war," Rebecca replied.  "Reynard sees her for the first time hovering over a battlefield, and she is drawn to him because he's the sole survivor of the melee."

"Well... uh..." I countered.  "You are, uh, technically correct, but there's more to it than that."

She blinked at me expectantly, obviously waiting for me to elaborate.

"Hang on a second," I blurted, suddenly thinking of something.  I grabbed the Foxspell from her and stood up.  "I need to show this to Vernier and Burnside, to find out if they can read it and if they get the same thing out of it that you did."

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