Wandering Spark - Part 62
"I didn’t tell you the most important thing, of course," said Clover quietly. "In a house where he lays down a hearth with his own hands... a magician is born."
"You mean," Varan muttered after a moment's thought, "that mages aren’t born in other places? Neither in the palaces nor..."
"Only if he fires a hearth. In the Imperial Palace or in a hut..."
"And you…"
"And I. All. Therefore, there are so few of them. I mean us."
"So, there are mages among the pods?!"
Plantain laughed:
"Wherever he walks, there are no pods or Gorni. There the earth is simple and flat, like a table... and there is no sea."
"Yes, you told. Lakes, rivers..."
"Roads..."
"And high trees to the sky."
"Yes. If you're lucky enough to get into a real forest..."
"I want to go there!" Varan burst out.
"It's too late," said Clover seriously. "You were already born..."
They laughed together. Varan broke off laughter: it seemed to him that from of the nearest stone someone was looking.
"This creature... which was sitting on the lock..."
"Lesser guardian?"
"You're dead," Varan shuddered, remembering the crawling letters on the lock.
"It's bad," the magician sighed. "The one who left the cache was a serious man... Or he is. It is unlikely that he died... he is to great master to perish for no reason..."
"And what would it do to me?" Varan asked, with morbid curiosity.
"Nothing special. Death fright... The bodies of treasure hunters, who died of a heart rupture, make an indelible impression on those who follow. They, you know, have such faces... um. The guardian can stay for a hundred years, and the treasures lie there...
"I volunteered to do it myself," Varan said after a long pause. In the voice of the magician, remorse was expressed to him.
"You are conscientious there, in the bottomland," the mage snorted. "For the sake of order, I should note that sending you first was a competent decision. After all, it is clear that the hiding place is damaged... and hence the lesser guardian is injured."
Something cracked loudly in the depths of the mountain. Something fell down. And then there was silence.
"Why are you keeping silent?"
"I just think about the continent and its wonders," Varan said hollowly.
"I recommend you not to get used to me," said Clover in a different, cold, and distant voice. "Found a friend..."
From the cracks came a weak unexpectedly warm wind. In the distance, a bird called, again and again. The magician Lerealaroon solemnly raised his hand with the ring. The red ray rushed to the sky, went out, and flared up again, indicating guards the way to the magician.
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