Andrew Rowe - Sufficiently Advanced Magic

The doors themselves were etched with similar runes to the ones that had guarded the tower itself. They each had a single central symbol: a circle with a colorful crystal within. The gems were blue, yellow, and red, from right to left. The books I had studied had mentioned similar doors. Opening a door was as simple as touching the gem, but various authors speculated that the colors had some significance. Most believed that red was the path of violence, for example.

I’d worry about that part after I figured out what I was doing here.

I stepped toward the center of the room. The pillars made a smaller circle within the chamber, spread equidistant from one another. The objects on the pillars were generally easy to identify.

A key, golden, with a wing motif.

A scroll, sealed with wax.

A book, roughly as thick as my closed fist.

I paused there, taking a closer look at the book. The cover was leather, more in the style of a personal journal than a textbook. There was no writing on the surface.

Interesting. I’ll need to take a closer look at this later.

I walked over to the next section of items.

The first item that caught my eye was a ruby statue of Katashi, the Visage of Valor. Interesting, because Katashi was not the visage typically associated with this spire — that’d be Tenjin, the Visage of Inspiration.

The next pedestal appeared to be empty. Suspicious.

The third had a quill, the tip dripping with ink. No corresponding inkwell. A magic quill, maybe?

Maybe the quill is meant to be paired with the book? Hrm.

I walked to the next section, noting that these pillars all held weapons.

A sword with an ornate bronze hilt, sheathed.

A dueling cane in an unfamiliar style.

A firearm. I struggled to think of the specific name, but I had only heard of them in books. It had a long barrel and a container of metallic balls next to it. I was surprised to see one, given their rarity on this side of the continent.

The final three pillars all held wearable items.

A dueling vest, the cloth etched with runes.

A shield, wood-lined with metal.

A circlet studded with numerous gemstones. I didn’t see any runes etched into it, so I didn’t think it was enchanted, but I wasn’t exactly an expert on magic. Not yet, anyway.

Well, this isn’t exactly the death trap I was expecting.

I’d never heard of a room like this before. Maybe most people didn’t count it as a test? That seemed doubtful. My understanding was that every movement I made within the spire was being evaluated.

So, I got an unusual starting room. That was fine. I’d heard about rooms with items in them before, just not this particular layout. Generally, taking items was safe.

Generally.

Maybe it was a test of greed… Was I supposed to leave everything behind? Or maybe just take a single item?

I shook my head. I could guess indefinitely without coming up with an answer.

I took a closer look at the platforms themselves, examining them for anything unusual. Hidden panels, clues, or switches. The goddess loved that sort of thing… so they said, at least.

I didn’t find any, which was deeply worrying.

Time to prioritize, then.

I knew there was a good chance something would happen when I picked up the first item. Perhaps a trap would trigger somewhere, or the other items would vanish.

Assuming this equipment was meant to be taken, what did I need the most?

The key could be, well, a key to my success. Or totally worthless. The scroll was the same; it could easily be a map to the dungeon or some esoteric notes on mathematical theory. The book had the same degree of binary promise.

The next set didn’t impress me, although I did strongly consider touching the empty pedestal to see if it triggered anything. Maybe I was supposed to put something on it? Sacrifice something of value in exchange for what I was taking?

I’d do that if I had a chance, I decided. And if I happened to dislodge an invisible object in the process, all the better.

Weapons. Yeah, those could be useful. This place was riddled with monsters, and I wasn’t allowed to bring a weapon inside. Maybe the goddess knew I’d need a way to fight.

Or maybe I’d only run into monsters if I took a weapon. It was broadly speculated that the configuration of the tower reacted to choices in any given room.

The next section was the wearables. The dueling vest was extremely tempting. The runes on the surface made it resistant to damage from both physical attacks and weak magical ones. Depending on the density of the runes, a vest could typically handle between one and three hits before needing repairs. This one looked to be high quality.

Ultimately, my curiosity made my decision for me.

I put my hand on the empty pedestal, groping for an invisible object, and then feeling along the surface.

Nothing happened.

Huh.

I opened my backpack next, going through my stuff. An unlit candle, a piece of flint and a tiny metal rod for striking it, food, water, a handful of coins, a roll of bandages, and a coil of rope.

The handful of coins amounted to the majority of my personal wealth, and the single gold coin most of that.

I put the coin on the pedestal.

Again, no obvious reaction from the room.

I left it there anyway, moving to the pedestal with the key. Flexing my hands in the air, I took a deep breath, and then snatched it.

Again, nothing.

Sometimes a pedestal was just a pedestal, I supposed.

I wasn’t going to take any chances. I dropped the key into my bag, and then put one of my lesser coins in the place the key had been.

The key was my first priority because I didn’t think anything here would be useless. Selys was difficult to predict, but scholars agreed that she was generally “fair”. Everything here would have value, either within the tower or outside it. Possibly both.

I needed whatever was most likely to be relevant here, and the key topped that list, followed by the quill and the scroll. Everything else was likely to have at least some value outside of the spire, and thus would not necessarily need to have any use within it.

The hardest choice was determining if I wanted to take a weapon, with the knowledge that the choice might influence the challenges to come.

My father would have wanted me to pick up a weapon, to push for combat tests as much as possible.

Our family had made our name in battle. He was a Shaper like his father and his grandfather. If I didn’t at least make an effort to carry on the family tradition, I knew he’d be ashamed of me.

But I loathed hurting people. I always had. I’d trained with my father for years, and I enjoyed the rush of sparring as much of anyone, but in those rare moments I’d managed to hurt him — or anyone else — I’d shut down.

Father thought that made me weak. Maybe he was right, but it didn’t change anything.

There was something I feared more than hurting others, however, and that was failing my brother.

Finding him was something I was willing to fight for.

I picked up the dueling cane and examined the surface.

The weapon was a metallic rod about the length of my forearm. The grip was black crystal inscribed with runes that would conduct my internal essence into the weapon. I adjusted my grip so that my thumb hovered over a button, presumably the trigger. I found a switch on the opposite end, which most likely would deploy the foot-long metallic blade within.

My own dueling canes had always been purely runic; the trigger mechanisms based on touching a rune and the application of focused thought. I was not an attuned — I had no magical abilities of my own — but anyone could use a dueling cane with sufficient practice. And I had practiced. And practiced.