Burning Tower (15 page)

R
edwoods stood tall as gods. Chaparral ran round their huge bases like belligerent servitors. Burning Tower knew their danger and tried to instruct the escorts, but mostly Sandry had to learn for himself.

Sandry had brought six Younglords with three chariots, ten Lordsmen with Peacevoice Fullerman, and two of Wanshig's Lordkin. They seemed lost in that vast forest.

 

“It's not enough,” Sandry had told Lord Chief Witness Quintana. “Your pardon, sir, but…”

The corners of Quintana's eyes and mouth wrinkled slightly. “I always encourage the junior Lords to speak their minds,” he said. “Although given your heredity, I am astonished that you need encouragement.” He glanced at Lady Shanda with a slight smile, which she didn't acknowledge. “But the fact is, we have no more to send. Not and give them proper equipment.”

“I'd rather have troops than equipment,” Sandry said.

“I'm sure you would. But the Lords of Lordshills aren't going to send any delegation to Condigeo looking like it came out of a poor Lordkin stronghold! This mission must impress the Captain's Council.”

“We won't impress them much if we're all dead,” Sandry protested.

“You have more troops than you needed to defeat twelve of the birds. And capture one alive at that,” Quintana said dryly. “Sandry, I never met an officer who didn't honestly believe he needed more troops, but I can't spare any more!”

Sandry nodded. He knew it was true enough. Tension ran wild among the Lordkin bands, the kinless were terrified, and there were no more Burnings to attract the lookers and storytellers. For as long as anyone could remember, the Lords had held the balance between Lordkin and kinless and directed the economy of Tep's Town. Now everything they had learned in centuries was probably useless.

“Tactics,” Sandry said. “The best way to fight terror birds is to have the Lordsmen lock shields, and use the chariots to draw the cursed birds into range of their throwing spears. But that takes tricky driving. I need a driver and a spearman in each chariot, but if I hold out enough Lordsmen to make a shield wall, there's nobody to put in the chariots with the Younglord drivers.”

“You'll think of something,” Aunt Shanda said. And Lord Chief Witness Quintana nodded sagely. “You'll have to.”

 

So now the Younglords were doubled up two to a chariot, one driving and one as spearman and observer. When they'd found that out the first morning, they'd sent Maydreo to protest, but Sandry cut that short.

“I have twenty volunteer Younglords. I've picked you six, but it isn't too late to change that. You still want to make that protest?” Sandry said.

Maydreo had a very sly grin. “What if I say Younglord Whane wants to protest?”

Sandry snorted. Whane wasn't popular with his peers. He spent much of his time reading books and lost in his own thoughts. He was also Regapisk's first cousin, and while Sandry hadn't actually seen it, he suspected there was a lot of Reggy in Whane. “Not an option,” Sandry said, and left it at that. Anyone could see the fine hand of Aunt Shanda in the decision to send Whane. Surely Maydreo could?

And he did. “Sir, can we request that you assign Whane to your chariot?”

That was the trouble with just being promoted above your classmates, Sandry thought. They knew you too well, thought they could get away with things they'd never think of trying with a more senior officer.

“A tempting offer, but I'm used to working with Masterman Chalker,” Sandry said. And enjoyed the look Maydreo gave him. None of the others had been allowed to bring a valet.

Sandry had had independent command rarely in Tep's Town and never for more than a few days. Now he was in charge, and that would last for weeks.

Quintana had come to Peacegiven Square just before the expedition was to leave. He had dinner served to him in the Registry Office, then summoned Sandry. Sandry expected to find the whole council, but Quintana was alone, no guards, no one at all. His greeting was perfunctory. Then: “Something's been on your mind,” Quintana said. “Ever since you came back from Avalon. Want to tell me?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, you will anyway. Spit it out.”

Sandry frowned, then shrugged. “Lord Regapisk was on the boat. As an oarsman. Chained to a bench.”

Quintana nodded. “I knew that—forgot it would be on that boat. He tried to get you to buy him free, of course.”

“Yes, sir, and I promised I'd do it, only—”

“Only what?”

“He started talking about what he'd say to you.”

Quintana nodded.

“So we both know what you'd do to him if he came back,” Sandry said. “And I don't want him dead.”

“Neither do I,” Quintana said slowly. “Not that it would keep me from feeding him to the crabs. Sandry, when we give an order, it has to mean something. If we say, ‘Don't come back,' it means
don't come back,
and that has to apply to Lords as much as to Lordkin and kinless. Lordkin put up with our rules because they see them as fair, mostly, and we treat our real kin the same way as Lordkin.”

“At least it has to look that way,” Sandry said.

“Precisely. So you did the right thing. Reggy won't be on that bench forever. Your Aunt Shanda has made arrangements. They'll take him a long way off and arrange that he gets paid as long as he stays there. And maybe the trip will teach him something.”

“Yes, sir…”

“And you're right, that isn't why I wanted to see you.” Quintana inspected him closely. It was impossible to guess what the Lord Chief Witness was thinking.

“You're young for this,” Quintana told him. “The council would rather send someone with more experience. You do have connections with the Wagonmaster, and that's all to the good. But do you know why I'm putting you in charge?”

“I'm the only one who ever captured a terror bird.”

Quintana nodded. “Yes, and that's the public reason. Now I'll tell you the council's real reason. You're deniable.”

“Sir?”

“Sandry, you're smart enough to see that we're in trouble. Yangin-Atep is myth. The Greenway is open. Kinless can leave when they want to, and more and more will want to when they hear how well they can do outside.”

“Can't blame them, sir.”

“I can't either, but the Lordkin won't like it. They'll try to stop the kinless from running away. And what do we do then?”

“I don't know, sir.”

“Neither do I, yet, but I have to decide. One thing is sure, the old balance between kinless and Lordkin is over. Right now everyone's scared of us. Everybody on the coast wants to hire trained Lordsmen. But Sandry, we don't have—we can't afford—a big enough army to fight off the Lordkin if they ever get organized.”

Sandry nodded. “I've thought of that.”

“So. Right now we run things because we always have. We have to find better reasons than that if you want to keep that home of yours from being a Lordkin clan house.” Quintana shrugged. “We've always been pretty good at trading up and down the coast. Now we have to learn more, learn to be master traders. That girl you're smitten with could be important to us.”

“Sir? What does that mean?”

“I think you know. If you're both still interested in each other when you get back, come see me. I'll handle Shanda.”

It was hard to suppress the foolish grin Sandry felt creeping across his face.

“When you get back,” Quintana said. “But understand, Lord Sandry, if you do get in big trouble and get your command wiped out, we can say, ‘Well, he was young; we sent him to keep the traders happy,' and maybe, just maybe, we won't lose so much of our reputation that the whole damn city comes down around our ears.”

“Oh.”

Quintana smiled faintly. “On the other hand, if you do everything just right, we can say that even our junior officers with a few troops can do things nobody else can. One more thing. That was the reasoning of the council. It's not mine.”

“Sir?”

“It's not my reasoning. I'm sending you south with everything I can spare because I damned well think you're the best man I could pick. Dismissed.”

A
nd now the three chariots rode ahead, partly on watch but always very much in training. Whenever the Greenway ahead was wide enough, the lead chariot would drop a target and the next would charge forward and wheel past it, and the Younglord spearman would throw or thrust his spear into the sack of hay. The last chariot would recover the spear and target and take over as lead. Peacevoice Fullerman rode in the first bison-drawn wagon and kept score.

Sandry and Chalker rode just ahead of the lead wagon. Sandry worried about his elderly valet, but Chalker seemed content enough. He leaned against the chariot side, but that seemed to be the only concession to his age.

Burning Tower rode alongside Sandry's chariot. She had her bonehead pony, a new one bought from a kinless in Tep's Town, for more gold than a kinless might see in five years. As they moved up the Greenway away from Tep's Town, the pony grew larger, changed from gray to white, and the bump on its head became a horn. The growth was noticeable after the first day, more so the next morning.

It also became more noticeably a stallion. She called it Spike, and blushed a little at Spike's obvious interest in the mares among the horses Sandry had brought. Today Sandry's chariot was drawn by his favorite team, Blaze and Boots, a stallion and a gelding. Spike ignored the gelding, but his challenge to Blaze was obvious.

Another problem, Sandry thought. But it would be good to learn how horses and one-horns acted toward each other. Tep's Town had always bred horses, and now that they understood the real nature of the kinless ponies—now that magic was somehow coming back to Tep's Town—the opportunity was clear. One-horns were in demand all along the Hemp Road. Sandry smiled slightly at the thought.
I worried about finding a career. Now I'm a Fireman and troop leader, and I'm learning to be a horse and one-horn breeder.

Sandry had heard of mules, but he'd never seen one, because although donkeys were supposed to be common in the mountains to the east, no one had ever brought one to Tep's Town. Mules didn't breed. Horses and kinless ponies never seemed to notice each other before Yangin-Atep went into the tar. What would happen if they inter-bred? Could they? Would their colts be fertile? There was only one way to find out, and it was clear that Spike was interested in the mares, and they didn't dislike him either.

There was a shout from the lead wagon. “Well done, Younglord Whane,” Peacevoice Fullerman shouted. There was surprise in his voice. “Well done indeed.”

“He's learning,” Chalker said. He had a way of saying such things half under his breath, so that Sandry could choose to hear them or not.

“Slowly,” Sandry said.

“Your pardon, My Lord, but I remember another young cadet couldn't ever get worked up about spear practice.”

“I could drive, though,” Sandry insisted. “Whane won't ever make a driver.”

“Agree there, My Lord,” Chalker said. “He's too distracted. Tries to do too many things at once. But he notices things others don't always see. Knows he's got limits too, not like his cousin.” Chalker didn't name Lord Regapisk. He didn't have to.

Turns out I did the right thing there,
Sandry thought.
It will be a bad year for Reggy, but he'll come out all right. Wonder where he'll end up?

 

Burning Tower couldn't quite hear what Sandry and Chalker were saying. Men often did that, or at least Sandry and Chalker did.
He's known Chalker a long time.
She felt a tinge of jealousy and dismissed it quickly. “Time for more lessons,” she shouted.

Sandry nodded. Chalker blew on a small whistle to get Peacevoice Fullerman's attention, then signaled with his arms, three circles of his right arm overhead then pointing to Burning Tower.
Circle them near her.

Fullerman nodded to his assistant. Horn signals sounded. The Younglords brought their chariots back down the Greenway. Sandry's men rode uneasily, trying not to touch any plant anywhere. As much as they must hate showing fear to their officer, they were thoroughly intimidated by the god-size trees and the deep shadows they cast.

Tower didn't want to frighten them further, but they had to
know.
She pointed: “That's Lordkin's-kiss. It can be a vine or a bush, but the leaves are always that five-pointed shape. Sometimes they turn bronze. You don't touch that! You don't touch bison after they've waded through it either.

“And look there, that patch off in the chaparral. Those bloodberry bushes are poison. They pull you in. Don't get too close or you'll be too hungry to resist. Bison can eat them, though.”

“Ponies?” Whane asked. “Can they eat them?”

“Yes. The spell doesn't seem to work with them,” Burning Tower answered.

“We'd better find out about the horses,” Whane said. “Drive over to that bush and let's see.”

Today Whane's driver was Maydreo. Whane tended to get distracted far too often to be the driver on a patrol. Maydreo hesitated. He wasn't going to take orders from his spearman, particularly not if that spearman was Younglord Whane….

Burning Tower could see the emotions flickering across Maydreo's face. Curiosity. And the red berries looked inviting, and they couldn't be poisonous or the bison couldn't eat them, and…He flicked the reins and sent the horses left toward the cluster of red in the chaparral. Tower turned Spike right around and dashed toward the wagon train. “Clever Squirrel! We're going to need you, Wise One! Hurry.”

Boneheads hadn't wanted anything to do with Clever Squirrel for over a year. Tower had wondered who the boy was, but Squirrel wasn't telling. Green Stone had bought her a large stallion from the Lords' stables. Lords didn't ride horses. They weren't big enough for an armed man to ride. Greyling was a big horse, and he didn't seem to mind carrying Squirrel. Tower's bonehead stallion reared and shied away as Squirrel came out of the wagon compound riding Greyling.

“Over there,” Tower shouted, and pointed off to the left of the Greenway. “Steady, Spike. Steady.”

Two chariots were in the thicket of red berry bushes. Four Younglords were stuffing themselves as fast as they could eat. So were four horses. Sandry's chariot was a good fifty feet from the red berries. Chalker was dismounted, holding the horses by their bridles, as Sandry shouted at his entranced Younglords—who paid him no attention at all.

Clever Squirrel giggled loudly.

Sandry looked up at her in irritation. “It's not funny!”

She nodded. “If you didn't have me here, it sure wouldn't be,” she agreed. “But you do. Chalker, can you hold Greyling? I don't want him any closer to those berries.”

“Yes, Wise One. Don't mind saying I'm glad to see you.”

“Me either,” Sandry said. “You can do something?”

“Sure.” Squirrel dismounted and walked slowly toward the red berry patch, her face an impassive mask of concentration. She muttered something, and her hands moved slightly.

Whane looked startled and doubled over in pain.

“Come to me now, Younglord Whane,” Squirrel said.

Whane straightened slightly, then bent over to puke.

Squirrel gestured again. “Come to me now, Younglord Whane.”

Whane lurched toward her. With every step, it seemed easier, until he was running. “Thank you, Wise One,” he shouted as he reached her.

“Go get me the rope from Sandry's chariot and bring it here,” she said. She hadn't lost the look of concentration and spoke softly without opening her mouth. “Now.”

“Yes, ma'am!” Whane wobbled toward Sandry's chariot, still retching.

Squirrel muttered again, then spoke aloud. “Come to me now, Younglord Maydreo.” Maydreo turned slowly and began to move toward her.

“Come to me now, Younglord Qirimby. Maydreo, what's the other one's name?”

Maydreo looked up from helpless vomiting. “Bentino.”

“Come to me now, Younglord Bentino.” When all the Younglords were near her and puking, Squirrel turned to Burning Tower. “Do you remember how to resist those?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Take the rope and ride in there, tie it to the bridle of the nearest chariot team, and bring the end to me.”

“Right.” Tower whispered. “Spike.” She pointed. The bonehead walked toward the thicket. When it reached the nearest bush, it looked up at Tower, then tore off a mouthful of berries and ate them.

They looked good! I should try one
—A shout from Clever Squirrel woke her to her task. Bridle. Tie the rope to the bridle. There. “Spike, out. Back to the horses…”

The bonehead nickered and walked out again. The pull of the berries weakened, died…

 

She had to go in once more to tie the rope to the second chariot, then they were done, everyone rescued.

 

Sandry's face was an emotionless mask. “Younglord Maydreo.”

“Sir!”

“And what have you to say, Younglord Maydreo?”

“No excuse, sir!”

“Sir, actually it was my fault,” Whane said. “When Tower said the bison and one-horns weren't harmed by the berries, I thought we ought to learn what they did to horses, and I suggested it, and—”

“And Maydreo takes orders from his spearman now?” Sandry said.

“Sir. No, sir,” Maydreo said.

Sandry's face relaxed a bit. “No harm done, and yes, it is a good thing we learned this when there was someone around to help. But did you go there just because Younglord Whane suggested it?”

“Sir, I don't know. It seemed like a good thing to do. And those berries looked good. I can still taste them. They are good.”

Sandry looked to Burning Tower. “Is it always like this?”

“Yes, a little, but it's only this strong here in the Greenway, and they weren't this bad last year, either. Squirrel?”

Clever Squirrel nodded agreement. “Out on the Hemp Road, we've pretty well burned out and destroyed the strongest bloodberry thickets, and the bison keep eating them anyway. In here, they've been protected for generations. Your fire god would have eaten most of their manna, but now he's myth.” She shrugged. “They're powerful, all right. Even I could feel the call.”

“One more thing to worry about,” Sandry said.

“The only ones to worry about are those near the road,” Squirrel said. “Until we get out of the Greenway and back to the Hemp Road, Tower and I will ride ahead to watch out for them.”

Sandry nodded. “But not too far ahead. Don't forget the terror birds, and there might be bandits. And can you teach us how to resist those berries?”

Squirrel frowned. “Blazes, how long did that take you?”

“I don't know. I learned on my first trip away from the New Castle, but I never felt any this strong. Sandry, you think about being full, so full you want to puke. At least that's what I do.”

“It doesn't hurt to imagine yourself tied up with their vines while they smother you,” Squirrel said. “Or how you'll smell after a couple of days.”

“Ugh,” Whane said.

“All right, no harm done,” Sandry said. “And we all learned something. Chalker, see that Master Peacevoice Fullerman tells his troopers. And maybe you can have a word with the Lordkin?”

“Yes, sir,” Chalker said. “Reckon I need the morning off tomorrow to help with that.”

“Good idea. Do that,” Sandry said. He squinted up at the sun.

Burning Tower nodded. “Another hour to lunch. I'll go scout ahead for more bushes.”

 

They made a big circle of the wagons, but they didn't unhitch the teams or unload the wagons for the lunch break. Bison were fed where they stood. Horses and one-horns were hobbled and turned loose inside the wagon circle. There was one big central cookfire. Soup was served as soon as it was hot.

“You must make this up in advance,” Sandry said. He slurped his soup. “Good stuff.”

“We do. We make big pots of it,” Tower said. “Sometimes Squirrel can keep it hot all day.”

“Easier just to keep it from spoiling,” Squirrel said. “Takes a lot of manna to keep soup hot all day, and there are plenty of bison chips for a fire.”

Tower finished her soup and daintily licked the bowl. Then she stood. “Time to get moving. I'll scout ahead for bloodberries.”

 

There weren't any bloodberries near the road. Tower walked Spike alongside Sandry's chariot. He kept looking around, at the tall trees and malevolent chaparral. The Firewoods held Sandry fascinated. He asked, “How did your parents ever get through this? They were on foot, weren't they?”

“Father said they gathered a wagon and some boneheads at the wine farm, and Father could still throw fire. Even so, it was difficult, and they had children to take care of. They talk about it sometimes. Mother was afraid the whole time. Lost in this forest with only a Lordkin to protect her!”