Alas, there’s nothing in the spire’s crest suggesting massive, liquid value, though Cang does indeed take a moment or two to check. Plenty of shed snake skin abounds, though, which he briefly considers grabbing, in case some eccentric buyer with pickled appendages on the walls might have interest in buying.
The chaos and clashing noise below brings him back to the present, though, and he returns to his work. He uses a length of rope as wide as he is, and ties a four-step Eckman knot atop the spire, just above the crest. He tests its strength with a firm tug, as from below, Fassn yelps.
Satisfied with his knot, Cang uses the rope to swing through the air, his heart racing, and alights at the canopy of a nearby tree. He lets a few dozen feet of the rope dangle loose to the ground, then ties another Eckman to the tree. It has nowhere near the tensile strength of the spire itself but Cang decides that it’ll have to do.
He calls down to his companions. “Rope’s up.”