Burning Tower Read online

  “No danger they won’t come,” Sandry said. “I don’t think there’s anyone doesn’t know the caravan is here.” He grinned. “But don’t let me stop you. I love to watch you, but I’m scared for you. It looks dangerous.”

  She shrugged. “Not as dangerous as it looks. Ropes don’t usually care. I mean they do if you don’t take care of them, but we’re always careful. They’re our ropes; my cousins made them.”

  Sandry looked at her carefully. She was chattering, just as he had been, but about what? His mind caught up. “You mean the hemp.”

  “Yes, the hemp.”

  Hemp was harmless in Tep’s Town. But the magic was leaking back into Tep’s Town, with blown dust from other lands, and wild hemp tried to strangle people. Sandry’s folk would need years to get used to a world where everything was like the chaparral, potentially sentient and malevolent….

  Tea and cakes arrived.

  “You said you have one in a cage,” she said.

  “One—oh, you mean the terror bird we captured.”

  “Yes! I’ve never seen one that wasn’t trying to kill me. May I see it?”

  “It will be halfway to Lordshills by now,” Sandry said. “Lord Quintana sent for it as soon as he heard we had it. He wants our wizards to examine it.”

  “Oh.”

  “But you can see it tomorrow before dinner.”

  “Oh, good. And Twisted Cloud too.”

  Sandry nodded. Of course it wasn’t likely that a Hemp Road shaman would learn anything not obvious to a professional wizard. “I’ll arrange it, and I’ll make sure the wagons are here early for you tomorrow.”

  “Good. I want to see where you live.”

  Burning Tower nibbled a cake, finished her tea, made her excuses, and went. A young kinless stepped out of her way; she smiled at him. No sense of rank. Sandry grinned.

  And now he was left with enough bean cakes for two. He brushed one off and ate it in two bites, wolfishly hungry.

  The kinless kid seemed frozen, staring at him. Sandry looked back…kinless? “You’re with the caravan,” he said.

  The boy started to speak, stopped, then said, “Yes, Lord. We have met before.”

  Last year, then. But the boy didn’t seem familiar at all. “Join me. Have a cake. I’m sorry—I don’t seem to remember you.”

  The boy grinned. “Few do. My name is Nothing Was Seen. They call me Lurk.” The boy sat. He brushed ants off a cake and ate it.

  “I remember now. You were poisoned by the chaparral, and that Atlantean Morth had me chasing antidotes. But you look different now. Hah, that’s a good act. It’s not just the right clothes—you act right. What were you staring at?”

  “Ants, Lord.”

  Well, they were a nuisance. “Don’t you have ants on the Hemp Road?”

  “Not to be seen.” The boy actually shuddered.

  “Then why didn’t Burning Tower…” Good manners. She just picked up that cake and ate it. The lady had excellent manners and nerves of pure copper.

  Lurk said, “Lord, I think Twisted Cloud could help.”

  “With ants?”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  Practicing, Sandry thought. Practicing the elaborate deference the kinless used. Why would he want to learn how to be kinless? But he certainly couldn’t pass for Lordkin!

  “I will find her, Lord. She will not charge much. Have the innkeeper find honey and parchment.”

  Chapter Eight

  The Caged Bird

  He hadn’t begun preparations for his dinner party when Roni came into the kitchen from the back garden.

  “Hi,” Sandry called. “No time. Unless you want to help—”

  She grinned slyly. “Want me to play hostess?”

  “Tep’s Teeth! No!”

  She giggled. “Your face. Sandry, I’d love to help—it would be good practice—but you don’t have to worry about dinner.”

  “What?”

  “Mother says she will be pleased to have you and your guests to dinner tonight.”

  “But—”

  “The Lord Chief Witness has asked her to be hostess,” Roni said. “So it’s a big deal, and you don’t have any choice.”

  Not that I would, given that it’s Aunt Shanda. “Tell Lord Chief Witness Quintana there will be four,” Sandry said. “The Wagonmaster, whose name is Green Stone, his sister Burning Tower—”

  “Ah-hah.”

  “Twisted Cloud, a shaman. And a young man who may look like a kinless and may look like Bison Clan, and I won’t know until we see him.”

  “Lurk!”

  “You know him?”

  “We met last year,” Roni said. “He’s been here to Lordshills before, didn’t you know?”

  “No!”

  “Well, he has. I don’t know how he got in, but he was here. I didn’t see him then. He told me over tea in Lordstown.”

  “That boy gets around,” Sandry said.

  She nodded and changed the subject. “Four, then. And we will have Lord Chief Witness Quintana, Lord Qirama, Egmatel the Sage, and two of his assistants. We hoped Father would be back in time, but he’s still in Condigeo.”

  “Any progress on that treaty?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing in his letters. Mother has me read them to her. Sandry, the wizards keep promising to make her eyes better, but they never do.”

  Sandry nodded. “They always give the same reason—not enough manna in Lordshills or even in Tep’s Town. Maybe it’s true. Who’s entertaining, Momus?”

  “I wish. There’s no entertainment. Mother requests that the guests tell stories about terror birds, and Egmatel will tell us what he has found in his studies. He’s got his assistants watching the bird full time.”

  “No entertainment. A strange dinner party,” Sandry said.

  “Will your mother be coming?”

  “I’ll ask, but I don’t think so. She’s not doing well today.”

  “Oh, Sandry, I’m sorry. Should we have Egmatel look at her?”

  “He’s looked.” So had Tasquatamee. And the only thing that came of that was the expense. Not enough manna here, or in town, or anywhere else.

  Sandry was pretending to read in his library when a servant came in. “Your guests are coming up the hill now.”

  “Thanks.” Sandry walked briskly to the main gate. He tried to look calm, but it was all he could do to keep himself from running.

  She was waiting at the gates with the others. She wore a short woolen skirt, elaborately embroidered. From the knees down, her legs were bare and tanned before they vanished into ankle-high moccasins with silver and turquoise trim. Some of the symbols matched patterns on her skirt and short jacket. At least one seemed to be her naming symbol, a silver-and-turquoise tower enveloped in red flames. Rubies? Surely not—that would be too costly even for a merchant princess. Carnelian, Sandry thought. His mother liked carnelian.

  Her hair was full and brown but shone red when the sun fell on it. Her jacket was decorated with elaborate beadwork, symbols of sun and birds and another name symbol over her left breast. The thin cotton blouse under the jacket was cut into a V that didn’t go nearly far enough down. He realized he was staring and looked up to see her watching him. She smiled. Warmly, he thought. Finally he looked at the others.

  Nothing Was Seen dressed like a trader’s porter, but the others wore exotic finery. Some of the jewels on Green Stone’s jacket were definitely rubies, and there was a wealth of malachite stitched onto the garment. It was all a bit out of place here, but no one would say anything. Sandry grinned like an idiot. “Welcome to Lordshills. Peacevoice, these are my guests.”

  The four gate guards had held them up for a bit of gossip as they waited for Sandry. Now they swung the gates open and bowed. “Welcome to Lordshills,” the Peacevoice in charge said.

  “Smooth,” Green Stone said when they were inside. “You have them well trained.”

  Sandry nodded. “Lord Quintana insists on good manners.”

  “Even as th
ey put a knife in your ribs. Where’s the bird? I’m curious.”

  “Me too,” Burning Tower said. “Is your man all right? He looked gray. I was worried about him.”

  “He’s all right,” Sandry said. “I gave him the day off and ordered him to take it. Thank you for asking. The bird is here, behind the guard barracks.”

  He led them to a stone house with a barred window in a strong door. A face looked out, then there were the sounds of bolts being withdrawn. They passed into a stone guardroom with four guards all in armor and all alert. There was a boy, perhaps twelve, seated in one corner. He had a waxed tablet board and an iron pen, and unlike the guards, he didn’t stand when Lord Sandry came in.

  Sandry recognized the guards, four from Fullerman’s detail, survivors of yesterday’s battle in Peacegiven Square. He acknowledged their courtesies with a wave. “Carry on, lads. Good work yesterday.”

  “Thank you, Lord,” the oldest guard said.

  An iron barred cage on wheels stood against one wall.

  “Cold iron,” Green Stone said. “Good. Magic won’t get them out of that! How’d you happen to have that cage?”

  Sandry shrugged. “Henry?”

  The oldest guard said, “I think we have always had that Lordkin cage, Lord Sandry. Don’t use it much.”

  The caged bird was huddled like a brooding hen. The feathers didn’t seem so bright, but that might have been the light. Guard Henry asked, “Wagonmaster, you’ve fought these too, haven’t you?”

  “All year, and yesterday,” Green Stone said.

  “Hope we don’t see too many of them,” Henry said. “We lost some good men yesterday.”

  “Agreed,” Green Stone said.

  Twisted Cloud stood close to the cage, peering in. “Too close,” Green Stone said sharply.

  “Mind your own business, child. This is mine,” she said.

  Guard Henry asked, “Is it magical?”

  The shaman frowned. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But nothing I can detect, anyway. How long do I have, Lord Sandry?”

  Sandry said, “I’ve allowed plenty of time. Dinner is after lamplighting.”

  The shaman sat on the ground and stared at the bird, her eyes gradually closing, first to slits, then all the way. Finally she stood. “Nothing. Maybe the wizards know something.”

  “We’ll find out tonight.” Sandry turned to the boy. “You know anything, Wale?”

  The boy grinned slightly. “My Lord, I—”

  “Yes, I know—you report only to your master. Well, carry on.”

  “Who was he?” Burning Tower asked when they were outside.

  “Apprentice to the Sage Egmatel,” Sandry said. “Don’t you have apprentices, Twisted Cloud?”

  “Our craft runs mostly in families. My daughter was my apprentice. Now I learn from her. We may as well go to your house, Lord Sandry. I can’t learn any more here.”

  Burning Tower walked beside Sandry as he led them into the City of Lordshills. She kept glancing at him. He was much taller than she and carried himself so that he seemed even taller. Long brown hair combed neatly back. Plain kilt of good cloth, plain jacket, a gold brooch. One gold ring. Nothing elaborate, everything quietly expensive. His eyes seemed to miss nothing, and he looked at her often.

  “It’s not far,” he said.

  She looked around eagerly, not trying to hide her interest. So this was how the Lords lived! Like the great merchant princes at Road’s End, or the Captains of Condigeo. Those were the only palaces she had ever seen, although she’d heard of others farther along the Golden Road, at the Great Bay in the northwest, and in the burning hills far to the south of Condigeo.

  But I’ve never been to those places, she thought. I’ve seen Condigeo only in sand paintings. And this is wonderful enough. She was aware that others envied her home, New Castle, which Whandall Feathersnake had built not far from Road’s End, but it was unpretentious on the outside, more like a permanent wagon nest than a castle.

  The houses stood each in its own grounds, with walls between them. The walls were not very high, certainly not high enough to challenge anyone who wanted to climb over. They seemed pointless, unlike the high walls that surrounded the entire town. All the houses were big, most two stories with a balcony running around the second floor, red tile roofs, and thick white walls. The second-floor balconies provided deep shade for the verandas underneath.

  The most wonderful thing was the water. Streams ran through the lots, passing under the walls, filling ponds. Dark shapes swam among flowered plants in the pools, and there were fountains everywhere.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said.

  “Yep,” Green Stone answered. “Father said it was like this. I never expected to see the place.”

  “Welcome,” Sandry said. “That’s my house just ahead on the right.”

  “It’s beautiful!” Burning Tower said. “The garden is wonderful.” Actually, I guess it’s not a lot different from the others, she thought. But all those flowers! But there should be a flower bed over there, and I don’t see rosemary and thyme… “Hummingbirds!”

  Sandry looked to the roses. “Yes, we have a lot of them here.”

  “They always look so angry!” Tower said. “I’m glad they’re so small. Imagine all that rage in something big enough to hurt you.”

  “Like a terror bird?” Sandry asked. “They seem to have plenty of rage.”

  Tower nodded, and looked breathlessly around the garden. Lords live well, she thought. Better than Father in New Castle. And Lord Sandry is one fine-looking man, as Mother and my sisters would say. And he can’t keep his eyes off me!

  Three servants led by Chalker stood in the doorway to welcome them.

  “I told you to take the day off!” Sandry said.

  Chalker grinned. “I did, My Lord, and much enjoyed it. This is evening. Ladies, may I take your wraps?”

  Father does this sometimes, formal parties with servants, but this doesn’t look put on, Burning Tower thought. And Chalker looks like he’s enjoying himself. They all look happy to be here, not like hired servants at Road’s End or even poor relations in New Castle. They look like they want to be here, and I know Chalker doesn’t have to be. How do these Lords do that?

  They were ushered into a pleasant room. The far wall wasn’t a wall at all, just some columns leading to a large area paved with flagstones. Chairs with little tables were arranged just inside the room. A young man was already seated in one corner. He wore a black robe with a red trim and a purple sash around his waist. A wizard.

  Burning Tower was busily distracted by all the furniture, tapestries, carved ivory on the mantelpiece, but she thought Sandry was surprised to see him. The man rose and bowed, not low…like a man older than he looked, Tower thought.

  “The Sage Egmatel,” Sandry said. He made introductions.

  Egmatel nodded to each of them, and asked if they had a pleasant journey, but he moved across to be next to Twisted Cloud. “I’ve heard of you,” he said.

  “More likely of my daughter,” Twisted Cloud said, but she was smiling eagerly.

  “I hoped we could compare notes, Madam Shaman,” Egmatel said. “Did you discern what bespells those birds?”

  “No, Sage,” Twisted Cloud said deferentially. More deferential than Burning Tower had ever heard her. “I could sense no magic at all. The shields must be very powerful. Perhaps if I knew what to look for?”

  Egmatel smiled thinly. “We have had only a few hours to study this creature, and I want to be very sure before I say anything. I must say I am not surprised that you sensed nothing. The creature’s origins are well shielded indeed.”

  Twisted Cloud nodded.

  “And with that, My Lord Sandry, I must depart. Lady Shanda has requested my assistance, and I must make preparations. I will see you again this evening.” He bowed perfunctorily.

  Sandry nodded. “Elani will show you out, Sage,” he said. He watched as the wizard left, then turned back to them. And he’s got tha
t silly grin every time he looks at me, Burning Tower thought. Good!

  Chalker ushered them to chairs and asked about drinks, while Sandry excused himself and went out.

  He returned with a frail lady, splendidly dressed. She wore a large necklace of bright gems and polished gold. They all stood as she entered. She walked slowly, clutching Sandry’s arm, but her eyes were sharp as she examined each of them in turn.

  “Mother, our guests,” Sandry said. “Wagonmaster Green Stone, Shaman Twisted Cloud. The pretty one is Burning Tower. And this young man has the improbable name of Nothing Was Seen.”

  “Colorful,” Lady Whalani said. “An interesting name. Welcome to my home. Is it difficult to be a Wagonmaster?”

  “It is not always easy,” Green Stone said.

  “No, I wouldn’t have thought so.” She turned and looked closely at Burning Tower. “Shanda keeps telling me about a girl with your name. I can’t imagine that could be anyone but you. Sandry said you were pretty. Yes, definitely, he’s not mistaken there. Lovely, and you don’t use too much paint. How did you get that name?”

  Burning Tower blushed slightly at the scrutiny. “My mother had a dream before I was born, My Lady. And thank you.”

  Lady Whalani turned to Sandry. “Very pretty. Polite, too. Good manners.” She turned back to Twisted Cloud. “A shaman. That’s like a wizard, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Twisted Cloud moved to her and took her hand. “May I?”

  “Certainly, but you won’t see anything. None of them can.”

  Twisted Cloud stared for a moment, then fingered a feathered stone hung round her neck. She stared again at the frail hand, then nodded.

  “I haven’t long to live, of course,” Lady Whalani said.

  “Longer than you think. You will live to see your son face a great trial.”

  “My. Will he be successful?”

  Twisted Cloud shook her head. “That is never revealed, not to me and I think not to anyone. But you will be proud of him no matter the outcome.”

  “That sounds frightening. But you have told me more than the wizards have.” She smiled thinly. “Of course, it is not startling that a mother would be proud of her son no matter the outcome of his trial.”