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You remain on your hands and knees, looking for any evidence that the Grass Tonic is having a Mysterious effect - or <span class="mu-i">any</span> effect - on the grass at all. But you cannot. Feeling a bit defeated, you get up and carry the stoppered bottle back over to the shelves, where you switch it out for the for the 'stick. You doubt it, but there is a slim possibility that something is happening, and you just don't have the light to see it. Cognizant of the tonic's oily appearance, you slowly approach the tuft of grass you applied the substance to, and as soon as you are in position, you inch the 'stick forward as far as you dare - quite keen on not starting a fire down here. While you are able to keep things nicely uncombusted during your second inspection of the grass, it seems that this was a risk without any reward, as you can not see or glean anything new about the grass.
Feeling more that a bit defeated, you inch the 'stick away, and then retreat to the shelves. You are not fretting about wasting time - not yet at least - because there were other objects of interest in the room; particularly the books and papers. You set the 'stick down at a comfortable distance, and you begin skimming through everything. The first thing you grab appears to be a schedule of care and record for the grass. Flipping through it, you are delighted to find towards the back there are hand-drawn maps of the basement included - no more hefting flagstones with your aching arms! Intriguingly, the maps display what is labeled as the 'Zone Lighting Schedule' - which suggests that there are supposed to be lights down here. There are three maps, labeled one through three ... perhaps the lights are supposed to be changed on a three-day cycle? Which raises the question as to where these lights are now - and more pressingly, why were they removed? Actually ... <span class="mu-i">when</span> were they removed might be the most pressing question. After all, how long can grass survive in what is effectively complete darkness?
The next two books are treatises on beach grasses, written in the Eternal Tongue, as is typical for academic works. Both books have been heavily annotated in the Eternal Tongue as well, and seemingly by several different hands, judging by the handwriting. It takes a moment, but it eventually occurs to you that the grasses in the basement here are probably beach grasses as well - or at least, they started out as beach grass. The last two books are both unannotated, but still all the more interesting. One is written completely in a cypher or language that you don't recognize, and the other is completely blank ... though of the five books here, it looks to be the oldest and most worn. Simply put that is suspicious anyway you slice it.
