The smoke did not reach into the caves. It billowed away from its source, staining the air and drifting over plateau, through trees, and around peaks in whichever directions. The caves, however, were far and low enough not to be smoked out.
And yet everything was perfectly visible from the caves. Both towers had been in plain sight; the one remaining was still unobstructed, spewing black clouds, its structural integrity visually and irreversibly declining.
Nadal ob Insame and Thadius Roth watched from their hidden sanctuary, so taken by the cataclysm that looking away simply was not an option. The fox's face was disbelieving and supremely disappointed, his eyes revealing a spirit who'd just lost something that was far more than merely important. The weasel maintained a face of stone, though his eyes too were stressed—in this case, the stress of an individual dealing with physical complications of mental concerns.
They watched as the South Tower finally gave in under its own stresses, collapsing down upon itself, containing its own remnants very well, though knocking smoke and dust and a literal smell of catastrophe into the air.
Nadal ob Insame appeared paler, sicker, and his voice was not well. Nevertheless, he spoke. I seem to recall your saying that these towers were not capable of being knocked down.
Fingers twitching uncontrollably, Thadius Roth faced Nadal. The architect fox was hardly in the mood to talk about what had just transpired, and the mention of his design lit yet another fire behind his gaze. You knocked down my towers.
Such a dangerous tone had never previously emitted from Roth's mouth, and that was an obvious blow to the weasel. That is an impossible accusation, Roth.
Thadius shook his head, still quivering. No, no it is not. You knocked them down, right from the start, since they were built.
I had them built, Nadal responded, off his guard. In his many seasons of control, the weasel had never received backtalk. The fact that the first time was from the normally soft-spoken Thadius Roth was not helping his condition.
Yes, you did that, but that was still knocking them down. The fox proceeded to clarify this paradox. You never told me why you had me build, never. I could infer some things, but you never told me and you kept me too busy to combine my inferences. That is very clever of you, but you kill creatures and ruin things and that eliminates everything else.
I am a designer, an inventor, a scientist. It was blind of me not to see what you had me do. Perhaps I did not wish to see it, but now it is all too plain in what is now absent. I wanted to build highest and go farthest and make the newest things, and I did, but it was all for death and now even the physical part is gone. Without you I could try to restore its image, but you destroyed everything.
Thadius finished his anguished tirade, then leaned back against a rock, his tremors showing no sign of ceasing.
Nadal was quivering as well, though in his case his stomach condition had used his stress as an opportunity to take over. Choosing not to remark on the bulk of the accusations, he weakly wheedled, So you are against needless deaths? Excellent, then. You have my medicine with you?
The fox wordlessly stood and ran from the cave.