Wandering Spark - Part 56
Somewhere down there, the wind was playing with the mage. The rope rubbed against the stone, a fine thick rope. Soon the fibers will begin to burst one after another; the rope will unfold like an ugly flower. And then it will break. Varan swallowed.
Does the lord know about their expedition? Of course, he does. His mightiness could have taken a dozen guards here... and sent one of them to search. But he chose to go down himself...
Sunspots crept along the stones, and from them the semi-darkness it became even darker. Maybe the magician still suspects him. Or maybe the whole expedition was organized with only one purpose. So that he, Varan, might let out something about the cache with false money...
He fixed himself on the cornice as reliably as he could and peered into the crevice.
The rope, which was so thick near to him, was becoming thinner and thinner closer to its end. And a little man was hanging on this spider web, very light. The wind turned him in different directions, if he began to climb, it was very slow and sluggish.
Maybe his magic will help him, Varan thought. I didn’t have much time to ask... About the forests, the roads, the basement where the mages with tails are sitting... And what they had with Nila that time. No, I know that there was nothing... But let him say it himself. Let him be surprised. Let him laugh in my face, and I'll finally understand that I'm a fool...
He sat down on the ledge, put his feet to the stone, took hold of the rope, and began to pull with all his might.
"There's a bare wall," said Clover. He could hardly breathe. He obviously couldn’t fly; moreover, going down the rope, he overestimated his own strength.
"And there is such a wind..."
"Is it very important for us to find this cache?" Varan asked cautiously.
"It's very important for me to find this hiding place," Clover said, not looking at him. "It is possible that if I don’t find..."
He paused.
"Imperial magicians can be afraid of something?" Varan asked in a whisper.
Clover frowned and nodded.
"I cannot answer for all the Imperial magicians..."
The wind blew out. The dried seaweed swayed, resembling sometimes the beard of the headman Karp, sometimes the hair of a dead woman, which last year the sea threw on his father's garden. Varan didn’t look at her face, but he remembered her hair...
"Maybe we should search in some different way." He asked quietly. "There are so many caves... Sometimes very small... Rifts, wells, shell we try to find the entrance?"
Clover thought.
"The sea washed away the human smell," he said at last. "If it was just a cave... Even months later, years... the smell persists. Especially the smell of the one who leaves a cache. He is worried, afraid of exposure... He is excited... I would have smelled."
"So it's true that you can go out on the balcony, sniff the wind over the town and learn all the thoughts?"
"Not all... Only the strongest. Fear, hate... love."
Varan was looking at his face - now very tired and not young. The gray eyes failed, so it was impossible to distinguish their expression. His lips were baked.
"How do I smell?" Varan asked softly.
The magician looked at him. He chuckled.
"You smell with curiosity and very little with fear... But more with curiosity."
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