The vibrant atoms’ hum resonates with Abia, attunes in an instant to her intradynamic transpolarities.
“Jiko magic strong,” she says hours later, when at last she can speak again.
Shyan cuts short her pacing. “What happened to just taking their treasure?”
“We’ve indeed yet to find much of value,” Cang says. He’s fashioning a new hole in his belt to suit his thinning frame.
“Jiko magic value,” Abia says. “Much value.”
Fassn’s beating his wings. He’s got a decent feel for it, hovering without much effort a half-metre over the rime.
“Then we ought to waste no time in gathering it.” Cang leaps to his feet, begins packing crates with hay, and laying bottles carefully inside. “I’ve no doubt we’ll soon find a buyer.”
The place is as cold as ever.