Jigano could only shrug at the shark questions, for little was known and less was written about them. "I don't think there are tunnels, though I could be wrong. I think they have a kind of magic that lets them swim through the earth as if it were water, but that's only a guess." The Sparkbird which was constantly on fire was another example of an impossible creature that somehow still existed. Magic and biology were strongly intertwined on Caido, at least in some creatures.
He listened while he paced, pondering Oliver's memories while he searched for an entrance to what lay below. "Hmm... then they could have all been your siblings," he agreed thoughtfully, pausing as he reached a slight depression in the grass, a dip a few feet across. With a thoughtful hum he reached out with his earth magic to gently move the top layer of soil aside, and was greeted by the dirt-darkened patina of old wood. "Did any of them ever get to go in the special door once they were older?"
He tapped on the wood, which was soft on top and half-rotted, but clearing the rest of the dirt away revealed a latch and a lock that had rusted to scraps. The bard looked up at Oliver with a nod for his reasoning, but a wry grin at his guesses. "I can respect that way of thinking about it. But if these places have wine or spices we'll be very sad, indeed. After three hundred years the wine will be vinegar and the spices little better than tasteless dust, I'm afraid. But if these were warehouses like I think, then who knows what we might find down there. Finished goods and raw materials, either being sent to foreign places or having been imported here and awaiting delivery to the shops and tradesman that could make use of them. Minerals and metals are our best bets for having survived, though depending on the conditions down there we might get lucky with cloth; silk or wool, in particular." Food or drink, though, unless preserved by magic would have been long since spoiled. "Can you give me a hand with this door?" It was wedged in place after a few centuries of wood rot swelling the planks to the frame, but the wood was fragile enough that their combine strength should do the trick.
He listened while he paced, pondering Oliver's memories while he searched for an entrance to what lay below. "Hmm... then they could have all been your siblings," he agreed thoughtfully, pausing as he reached a slight depression in the grass, a dip a few feet across. With a thoughtful hum he reached out with his earth magic to gently move the top layer of soil aside, and was greeted by the dirt-darkened patina of old wood. "Did any of them ever get to go in the special door once they were older?"
He tapped on the wood, which was soft on top and half-rotted, but clearing the rest of the dirt away revealed a latch and a lock that had rusted to scraps. The bard looked up at Oliver with a nod for his reasoning, but a wry grin at his guesses. "I can respect that way of thinking about it. But if these places have wine or spices we'll be very sad, indeed. After three hundred years the wine will be vinegar and the spices little better than tasteless dust, I'm afraid. But if these were warehouses like I think, then who knows what we might find down there. Finished goods and raw materials, either being sent to foreign places or having been imported here and awaiting delivery to the shops and tradesman that could make use of them. Minerals and metals are our best bets for having survived, though depending on the conditions down there we might get lucky with cloth; silk or wool, in particular." Food or drink, though, unless preserved by magic would have been long since spoiled. "Can you give me a hand with this door?" It was wedged in place after a few centuries of wood rot swelling the planks to the frame, but the wood was fragile enough that their combine strength should do the trick.
