Burning Tower (32 page)

W
agonmaster Ern seemed distracted. Sandry found that understandable. This wagon train was larger than the Feathersnake train commanded by Green Stone, and there was far less organization. Feathersnake's wagoneers had all traveled the Hemp Road together many times and did what was necessary without being told. This group was different, and every dispute was brought to the wagonmaster for settling.

Two wagoneers bickered over precedence. Ern listened to both, then casually assigned each a place in the order of travel. There was no dispute or quarrel. The wagoneers wanted someone to decide for them. Sandry thought that most of the wagon train disputes were like that, no real substance, but they had to be settled by authority. Eventually the wagoneers were finished, and Ern could turn to Burning Tower, Sandry, and Clever Squirrel. They had waited through much of the afternoon.

“At last,” Ern said. “My apologies.” He was a serious man, stocky, around forty, and wore leather clothing decorated with symbols that Sandry didn't understand. A painting on his chest depicted a long-legged bird pursuing a snake. His hair hung down his back in a long queue. “Admit no more of them today,” Ern told the guards at the entrance to his nest. He gestured for his guests to sit, then clapped his hands for tea. He served fragrant tea in small cups, and waited until everyone had a sip. Sandry recognized the flavor as one brought with Green Stone's wagon train.

“So,” Ern said, “it is settled. Lord Sandry, you will command all the wagon guards. Younglord Whane will be your second in command. When there is danger, you will have direct command over all the wagons. When there is no immediate threat, you will come to me first.”

They all nodded. Whane grinned widely.

“Good. And one of your duties will be to instruct the others in how to fight the terror birds.”

“As much as I can,” Sandry said. “It's not part of my duty to teach chariot warfare. I couldn't anyway—we don't have enough chariots or horses.”
And no decent bows except mine,
he thought, but there was no reason to tell these people about compound bows.

“Yes. But you will fight as needed.”

“Of course,” Sandry said. “I have my armor and weapons, and I am bringing chariot horses.”

Ern sipped tea. “I confess curiosity about your ways of war, how you use those chariots, but there will be time enough to discuss that on the trail when there is little else to talk about,” he said. “For now, let us be sure we are agreed on more important details. Lord Sandry, you will instruct the guards in the use of weapons without magic, and you and Younglord Whane will aid in defense against both bandits and birds.

“Clever Squirrel, you will share the duties of wagon train shaman with Fur Slipper, who will be chief shaman and receive the chief's shares and privileges. This is agreed?”

Clever Squirrel agreed without enthusiasm.

“So. You may choose your own place in the wagon line. What more is there?” Ern asked.

“Well,” Sandry said, “there will be others. Mouse Warrior believes it is his destiny to travel to Aztlan. He can train your wagoneers in better use of the sling. And Burning Tower has a servant boy who will accompany her.”

Ern nodded. “I am pleased that Mouse Warrior comes with us. I have heard that he killed four birds in the final battles. Of course your lady is welcome, but I was not certain she was to come with us. She brings the one-horn?”

“Of course.”

“We know little of such beasts,” Ern said. “They are said to be difficult.”

“Burning Tower won't have any trouble with Spike,” Clever Squirrel said. “Sandry, what of the Lordkin?”

Sandry shrugged. “We will know when we leave. They haven't said, and no one gives them orders.”

“I have mixed feelings,” Ern said. “They are formidable warriors, but I have heard…”

Sandry grinned. “We know.”

“Feathersnake will pay, if payment is needed,” Burning Tower said.

“So I have also heard,” Ern said. “So. We are agreed—”

One of Ern's sons scratched at the entrance to the wagon nest. The boy was about twelve, and Sandry knew him as Small Condor. The boy was eager to learn about throwing spears and other weapons and often followed Sandry around the wagon camp.

Ern frowned. “Did I not say I was not to be disturbed?”

The boy smiled nervously. “It is Master Ruser of Low Street,” he said. “He wishes to join the wagon train.”

“Can he not meet me another time?”

The boy grinned more widely. “I thought it important that he meet Lord Sandry. He has brought two warriors with him. One is a giant.”

 

When Wagonmaster Ern stood to greet Master Ruser, Sandry got to his feet as well, so he was standing when Ruser's companions came in. Sandry recognized the giant who had been with the teller Tras Preetror in Lord's Town and Condigeo. And—

“Hail, Cousin,” Regapisk said. He held out his hand.

Regapisk. Sandry noted the salamander brooch and the tooled leather handle of a quality sword made in Lord's Town. “Hail, Lord Regapisk,” he said formally. He stepped forward to grasp Reggy's forearm. “I'm glad to see you in such good circumstances.”

“Thank you. Better than before, thanks to Aunt Shanda.”

Wagonmaster Ern watched curiously, but most of his attention was given to Ruser. “I am told you wish to join our wagon train, Master Jeweler. And you bring these two as guards?”

“Two wagons only,” Ruser said. “And they are both guards and partners.”

“Partners,” Ern said slowly. “Interesting. Will they fight?”

Arshur struck a pose. “Who needs killing?” he demanded.

Regapisk shrugged. “I am a Lord of Lordshills; we are all trained in war crafts,” he said.

Sandry smiled to himself, remembering Reggy in sword practice, Reggy at spear throwing. Reggy's hopelessness with a bow. He had spoken the truth, but…

“I will also have a chariot with two teams, mules and mares,” Regapisk said. “Arshur will be my spearman.”

Sandry nodded with more enthusiasm. Reggy could drive. As to Arshur, Sandry asked, “Do you have any skill with a spear thrower? They call it an atlatl.”

Reggy looked blank. Arshur frowned slightly. “Yes, if I understand what you mean.”

Sandry made gestures of placing a spear onto a stick, then throwing it.

Arshur laughed. “
Assilima,
we called them in the north. Sure, but you don't do it that way! They're a little tricky, but I can show you.”

“I never saw one,” Reggy said quickly.

“I'll teach you both,” Arshur said. “But why are you interested in those things? They're not much good for fighting from a chariot!”

Sandry said. “We'll only have two chariots, counting yours, and no trained Lordsmen either. I'm sending everyone but Whane back with Green Stone's wagons to Condigeo. We'll have to defend ourselves with the help of locals who aren't too well trained at fighting without magic. I was hoping these spear throwers would make up some of the difference; they look like they'd give you a lot more range.”

“More range, more power,” Arshur agreed. “Not as accurate. You pay by losing accuracy. But at close range, they'd sure help green troops against those birds. Good thinking…I forgot your name.”

“Sandry. Of Lordshills.”

“Sandry. We've met before, but I don't remember where.”

“There was a tea room in Condigeo.”

“Yes. Sure was,” Arshur said. “I was with Tras Preetror. Been with Tras for twenty years, more. But he died, you know. On that ship. Tras died, and I'm going to Aztlan to be king.”

Going to be king,
Sandry thought. He found it no more likely now than when Arshur had said it in Condigeo, but he noted that neither Ern nor Clever Squirrel laughed or even looked incredulous. “Congratulations,” Sandry said. He must have sounded as if he meant it, because Arshur looked pleased.

 

Younglord Maydreo tried to keep a straight face, but he was having trouble hiding the big grin that kept breaking out.

“You've earned the right, but not that grin,” Sandry said.

“Sir?”

“I'm putting you in command because I think you can do it, but that doesn't stop me from worrying about you,” Sandry said. “Remember the bloodberries?”

“Yes, sir—”

“And Vic's Vampire Feast?”

“Yes, sir, I understand—be careful about magic.”

“Precisely,” Sandry said. “You've had good training with weapons, and you got some good experience fighting birds, not that I expect you to run into very many birds on the way back. But that's just the point, Acting Lord Maydreo.”

Maydreo suppressed another wide grin.

“Without the birds, the bandits will be more active.”

“Oh. So I should keep the chariot men in armor?”

“You'll have to decide that yourself,” Sandry said. “Certainly at least one team ought to be armored with bows.”

Maydreo nodded, suddenly sobered. “Bandits. Yes, sir, I'll be ready for bandits.”

“Bandits, yes. But you'll have to be alert for what the shaman called undead. And all kinds of horrors we don't know because we don't know much about magic,” Sandry said. “The worst of it is that Chalker and Peacevoice Fullerman won't know much about magic either.”

Maydreo frowned slightly.

“I think you're smart enough to realize that the real secret of leadership is to listen a lot before you say anything,” Sandry said. “I sure hope you learned that, anyway.”

“Yes, sir—”

“So they can tell you about bandits, but your best people won't know any more than you do about magic. That leaves Green Stone and the shaman.”

“Yes, sir. I'll listen to them.”

“Chalker can help you with Trebaty,” Sandry said. “He may or may not be the biggest problem you have.” Sandry stood. “I'm not following my own advice,” he said. “I'm talking too much. You'll do fine, Acting Lord Maydreo.” He held out his hand to grip Maydreo's forearm. “You'll do fine.”

 

The wagon train was formed and ready. Sandry and Burning Tower stood close together as Green Stone stood on his wagon and looked at his charges. He turned to wave at Tower, then turned back. “Whenever you like, Acting Lord Maydreo.”

Maydreo raised his spear to Sandry, then turned to Chalker, who stood as his spearman. “If you please.”

Chalker looked one last plea at Sandry. Sandry turned his eyes away. There was a long pause, then trumpet notes sounded. The wagons began to move. Peacevoice Fullerman shouted, and the troops began their steady march. Lordkin Trebaty ambled behind them. He turned to wave to Secklers, who waved back. Secklers had decided to go with Sandry to the Aztlan trading posts.

The Feathersnake wagon train moved west, down the road through town and out the gates.

Burning Tower looked very serious.

“Worried about them?” Sandry asked.

“I'm more worried about us,” Tower said. “I wish we were going with them.”

“You still can. You can grab all your things and still catch up before they top the last ridge.”

“And leave you here with Squirrel? Never.” She tried to say it as a joke, but it came out serious. “But I do wish we were going home. To be married, to live at Road's End or Lordshills—I don't care.” She looked east and shivered.

“Premonition?”

“I don't have premonitions,” Tower said. “My father has less talent for magic than anyone I ever met, and I don't have a lot more. But I don't need premonitions to be scared. Squirrel's scared, and she has premonitions enough for all of us.”

She turned away to see the boy Spotted Lizard staring after the wagon train. “I thought you would go with them,” she said.

“It was kind of Green Stone to invite me,” the boy said. “But maybe my people are hiding somewhere. They were coming here; I'll wait for them here.”

“How will you live?”

“I have found work.”

Sandry and Tower left the boy staring after the wagon train.

 

The next day it was their turn. Ern looked up and down the wagon train, asked if anyone needed more time, got no answer, and waved forward. The lead wagons moved out the east gate and up the road through the valley.

Regapisk rode alone in a roughly made chariot drawn by sturdy mares that looked more accustomed to pulling a plow than a chariot. They wouldn't be fast, Sandry thought. Faster than the mules that trailed behind Ruser's wagon, but not much, and the chariot was heavy—spokes too thick. It wouldn't be fast even with good horses. They didn't make good chariots in Crescent City, and they didn't seem to know much about using them. Something to remember.