Burning Tower (16 page)

Tower looked back at Trebaty and Secklers, the Lordkin Wanshig had given them, and Peacevoice Fullerman, selected by the Lords with Sandry's enthusiastic seconding. Fullerman usually rode in the lead wagon, his troopers marching along beside. The wagon held their shields and heavy equipment, and frequently Fullerman held drills.

“Alarm! Fear and foes!”

The men scrambled to get their equipment on, shields up and locked. Two boys from the wagon train opened boxes of throwing spears, then stood ready to pass them out.

In addition to throwing spears, there was another kind, heavier, with an odd shape to the spearhead. Tower pointed it out to Maydreo during one of the drills.

“What is that?”

“Sandry's invention,” Younglord Maydreo said. “He calls it a birdcatcher. See, the first time they fought the birds, one ran right up the spear and killed a trooper. Sandry and Fullerman invented those crossbar things to hold the bird out at the end of the spear.”

“Oh. Will it work?”

Maydreo shrugged. “Let's try it on a bird.”

And Sandry thought of it!
She grinned.
And he'll be surprised I know about this….

The two Lordkin walked close alongside the lead wagon, careful to avoid plants, dodging them as if they'd been doing it all their lives, although Tower knew they hadn't known about them until she told them. Her father was like that, learned fast when it interested him.

 

Gradually the redwoods gave way to other trees, and the vines and creepers stopped growing aggressively. The Greenway widened hourly.

O
n the morning of the fourth day, they emerged at Firewoods Town. They stopped and talked to people, showed a little of what they'd collected, traded stories. They left a heap of their cargo to be guarded by the mayor. Maybe they'd return for it; if not, next year's caravan would.

“They treat you like Lords,” Sandry said.

“Maybe a little.” Burning Tower sipped tea. “I never thought about it. It's just the way things are—Feathersnake wagons are welcome everywhere.”

Someone scratched at the entrance to the wagon nest. “Yes?” Tower called.

Green Stone came in. “One of your Lordkin tried to rob a merchant.”

Sandry got to his feet.

“It's all right,” Green Stone said. “No emergency, anyway. I paid, and this close to the Greenway they're used to Lordkin thinking they can gather anytime they like. They see those tattoos, they watch their merchandise. It's not like the Lordkin are sneaky about it. Anyway, the mayor gave Lordkin Trebaty the standard lecture. That's what they do here, reparation, lecture, and another chance.” Green Stone looked serious. “That's here, Lord Sandry. Farther down the road, it won't be like that.”

“Make sure all the townsmen know I'll pay,” Sandry said.

Green Stone shook his head. “It won't be necessary. Or you can pay me, because Feathersnake always makes good. But it won't be enough.”

“What's enough?”

Green Stone shrugged. “Depends on where. Some places will want free labor to forget it. In Meculati, they'll want blood.”

“I'd better go talk to Trebaty and Secklers.” He paused at the nest door. “Thank you for lunch, Burning Tower.” He bowed.

 

He found Trebaty and Secklers sitting by themselves. Chalker was not far away, and beyond him was Peacevoice Fullerman, trying to be inconspicuous despite his four fully armed troopers. Trebaty was fuming.

“The way he talked to me! Secklers, they're puny! Twenty Snakefeet and we can burn the place out, teach them some respect.”

“Greetings, Lord Sandry,” Secklers said.

Sandry nodded in acknowledgment. “Understand you had some trouble with a merchant.”

“Yeah, I forgot,” Trebaty said. “I know what Lor—Chief Wanshig told us. I know we're not supposed to gather out here, but I forgot, and it wasn't much anyway, just a ring I was going to take back to my old lady.”

Sandry nodded.

“And the next thing I know, the mayor is yelling at me,” Trebaty said. “Him and those lord's lace guards of his.”

“So you think you could raid this place with twenty of your Serpent's Walk comrades,” Sandry asked.

“You're cursed right I could!”

“Do you think you would kill everyone, or would some get away to tell who did it?” Sandry pointed to the serpent tattoos Trebaty and Secklers both wore.

“Hey, we're not like that! We don't just kill everyone!”

“So the rest would tell their friends. And then what would happen?” Sandry asked.

“Depends on how many friends they have, I guess. How many would that be?”

Sandry shook his head. “I don't know either. Probably all the wagon trains, to start with. Maybe the Condigeo Captains? I don't know. Neither do you, Trebaty, but there could be a lot of them. What will Chief Wanshig do if you get him into a war and you don't know who you're at war with or how many you're fighting?”

“He won't like that, Treb,” Secklers said. “That's for sure.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“And then there's the Lord Chief Witness,” Sandry said. “The Council is trying to promote trade along the Hemp Road. Burning out the towns probably won't help that a lot.” Sandry shrugged. “You heard what happened to Lord Regapisk?”

“Heard rumors,” Trebaty said.

“I hear the Condigeo Captains are paying well for oarsmen,” Sandry said conversationally. “I expect Chief Wanshig would know.”

Secklers snorted. “So if the High Lords don't sell you, Lord Wanshig will. I told you, Treb.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Sure I will.”

“No harm done,” Sandry said. “This time. But they tell me the merchants farther down the road aren't used to Lordkin. You think gathering, they think robbery.”

“Yes.” Trebaty said. “I told you—I forgot.”

Sandry smiled. “I sure hope your memory gets better.”

Secklers laughed. His hands moved in circles: rowing motions.

 

The Hemp Road led east until they were out of the redwood forests, then turned sharply south. Now there were pine trees and chaparral, villages with small farms, green fields with water trenches in the middle of brown-lands. The line between green and brown was as sharp as a knife.

T
his part of the road was new to Burning Tower. She had never been south of the Burning City. Green Stone was too busy to play guide, so Tower hung out with Mouse Warrior.

Mouse Warrior was a small man, injured at birth, so that he'd never married. He was small enough to ride a bonehead pony. He'd been to Condigeo four times. He and Tower rode with the Younglords and Lordkin behind the wagons, and Tower listened as he instructed them.

“Water management gets you through alive,” Mouse said. “Never lose your hat.” He had a constant stream of advice, all good.

Tower tuned him out. She'd been hearing this for half her life. The terrain was sparsely forested, richly green valleys separated by dull brown hills, but sometimes the hills had pine forests. There was a sudden storm of small birds and a hawk in their midst. The Lordkin ducked, then laughed at each other.

This was easy travel. Sandry and his men had no trouble adjusting to the caravan style of living: pack everything, every time. To the Lordkin this was almost strange…but not quite. “You're all like the boss—like Chief Wanshig,” said Secklers. “Is that because he sailed on a ship? A place for everything and everything in its place.”

“That's the way we live,” Tower assured him.

“It's a pain.”

“You can live with pain. How did you get that scar?”

Secklers grinned and told a harrowing tale of a raid on Howler turf.

 

The days passed. The Lordkin learned a little, and, hey, you could put up with just two of them. Sandry tried them out as scouts. They were a token, Tower thought, sent to even things out. Peacevoice Fullerman was the Lords' eyes and ears.

A caravan did more than move. The wagons carried grain to cook, and various kinds of tea, but any variety in diet had to come from the land. The hunting grew better as they moved south, but predators grew more numerous. Tower taught them to see fruits and roots that could be eaten.

On the fifth morning, they passed a terror bird. It left them alone. Later that day, another attacked them. Sandry distracted it, and as it turned to chase him, Maydreo drove up from behind to let Whane drive a spear into its back, just where the neck came out of the torso. It ran a few more paces and fell dead, the battle over before Peacevoice Fullerman could get more men into armor. Trebaty found a clutch of three huge eggs. The bird and its eggs served as their dinner.

“This is odd,” Sandry said to Squirrel. “This one attacked us when we came near her nest. The other stayed clear. Are there two kinds of terror bird?”

Squirrel said nothing.

 

On the eighth day, the road gently turned to southwesterly.

“Aren't we getting closer to Condigeo?” Burning Tower asked.

Squirrel nodded. “We'll be in Condigeo by noon tomorrow, earlier if we make good time today. It should be safe enough from here on. Never heard of terror birds this close to the sea.”

Sandry nodded in relief. “I'll keep scouts out to both sides and ahead just in case,” he said. He waved to the Younglords in their chariots. “Be alert,” he said, but it was hard to stay alert this close to the end of a journey.

An hour later, they topped a low hill. A wide valley stretched out to the east and west, a sluggish stream in its middle. There was a fortified town just south of where the road forked to the west. Guards waved from their watchtowers as the caravan went past without stopping.

There were loud bird cries, and a half dozen seagulls glided over, wheeled to inspect them. This was the first time since leaving Tep's Town that Sandry had seen gulls. He pointed to one of the graceful sea birds. “I'm surprised we didn't see more of them. Aren't we close to the sea?”

“Getting there now,” Clever Squirrel said. “But the Hemp Road stays on the other side of the hills from the ocean. The coast road is dangerous. Pirates in the Flea-bottom Creek area. Robbers in the Greyswift Hills. Too many to fight. There's a big patch of manna in the Greyswift Hills. I've never been there, but I'm told there's a nice town there if you can get to it. But we stay away from the coast until we're close to Condigeo.”

“Fear! Fear and foes!” The shouts came from Sandry's scouts to the east. Maydreo, shouting the same words he'd shouted in Peacegiven Square, but with confidence and defiance now, a lot less fear.

“Fear! Fear and foes! Alarm! Make ready!”

Someone in the watchtower in the town behind and to their left sounded a conch shell horn. The guards outside the town gates scrambled inside. The gates slammed shut in haste.

“No help from them,” Peacevoice Fullerman said. “To arms, lads, to arms. Full kit. My Lord, I have four men under arms. It will take a bit to get the rest equipped.”

“Right.” Sandry had been riding in the wagon with Fullerman, his empty chariot tailing the wagon. “My team's rested. Chalker!”

“Coming,” the old man shouted. He ran up from the second wagon where he had been riding and climbed into Sandry's chariot.

Sandry gathered throwing and thrusting spears and dropped off the wagon. Clever Squirrel loosed the chariot reins from the wagon as Sandry jumped into the chariot. Sandry looked around for Burning Tower. Nowhere. He waved to Clever Squirrel, and caught the reins as she threw them.

Maydreo was closer now. “Fear and foes! Alarm! Lord Sandry, it's birds!”

“How many?” Sandry shouted.

“Twenty, I counted,” Maydreo answered.

“Twenty-one,” Whane corrected. “And all bunched up.”

Sandry wheeled the chariot to face east. There they were, a quarter of a mile or less down the valley, birds bigger than horses and coming on fast over the grassy fields. A stock fence slowed them momentarily, then they jumped, a graceful echelon of green and orange.

Beautiful,
Sandry thought.
Damned deadly, but they're beautiful.
“Maydreo, walk your horses,” Sandry shouted. “Let them rest up a bit; we'll need all the speed you can get. Fullerman, hurry it up!”

“Fast as we can, My Lord.”

It wouldn't be fast enough.

“Call in the other outriders.”

“Aye, My Lord.” Fullerman's trumpets sounded.

“Tep's balls!” Trebaty and Secklers ran up, their big Lordkin knives ready. They had their woolen ponchos over their left arms as shields. “That's a lot of them buggers!” Trebaty looked around. “What do you want us to do, Lord Sandry?”

What to do with stray Lordkin? “Please stay with Peacevoice Fullerman,” Sandry said. “Keep him alive so he can direct his men.”

“Right!” Trebaty said. “We'll do that.”

A pledge. One less thing to worry about,
Sandry thought. He flicked the reins and sent his chariot hurtling toward the oncoming green-and-orange wave. “Steady, steady…get ready, Chalker.”

“I been ready!”

“Steady—haw! Haw!” The chariot wheeled to the left, so that Chalker, to Sandry's right, would have a clear shot. As the chariot wheeled, Chalker threw forward and to the right, forward so that the chariot's momentum would be added to the strength of his arm—

“Score!” Chalker shouted. “The leader's not down, but he's slower. They're after us, My Lord.”

“Good.”
Now if the horses hold out and don't stumble…
“Gee! Gee!” The chariot wheeled to the right. The wounded bird was trailing now, clear of battle. Its plumage flared, gaudy, a rainbow of colors. The rooster? And the rest were hens? The terror bird hens surged after the chariot.

“Are those town watchtowers manned?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I'd rather be on the road than in this field.”

“Better slow just a little—they're wavering.”

“Right.” It was a balancing act, staying far enough ahead of the birds that they couldn't catch him, not so far that they lost interest. Last year Sandry had done this dance with a wave following him, a water elemental flowing uphill in the wake of his chariot. Birds were nothing. Here was the road now—follow it down toward the town.

“They're no help,” Chalker shouted. “They're cheering you, but they ain't throwing nothing from those towers.”

“Blast.”

A trumpet sounded.

“Fullerman's ready,” Chalker shouted.

“Right. Here we go.”

Fullerman's troops stood ready, shields locked, thrusting spears leaned against their shields as they held their throwing spears loosely.

The birds were strung out in a line following Sandry's chariot. The one Chalker had hit trailed well to the side. The others were in fine shape, and the horses were tiring. “I'll lead them close,” Sandry shouted.

He guided the chariot on a path parallel to Fullerman's line and no more than ten feet away. The birds followed.

“Hey, Harpy!” The shout came from the lead wagon. Sandry stole a quick glance at the wagons. There was a wagoneer with a sling on top of each, half a dozen on the wagon closest to Fullerman. Mouse Warrior was calling. “Hey, Harpy!”

As the birds closed with Fullerman, a shower of stones flew from the wagoneer slings. The lead bird was hit several times, stumbled, another bird crashed into it from behind—

“Throw!” Fullerman ordered. Spears arched out.

Three birds went down. Another flight of stones pelted them. The other birds held up short, looking at these new dangers.

“Thrusting spears!” Fullerman ordered.

The line of troops sprouted a bristle of points. Two of the birds charged into the spearpoints, impaled themselves. One of the guardsmen was thrust backward as the bird pushed onward.

Secklers ran up behind the guardsman and pushed him back into the line. The bird struggled for a moment, then fell in front of the guards.

Now Maydreo charged from behind the wagon line. His chariot brushed past the birds, and Whane thrust his spear, a perfect thrust. Another bird down, and the rest were chasing Maydreo, but the slowest two fell to flying stones from the wagons. Trebaty and Secklers rushed out to slash at the wounded birds, chopping at their necks, then dashed back behind the shield wall. Mouse Warrior shouted in triumph.

Sandry brought his chariot to a halt behind the shield line. Chalker leaped out to brush the foam from the horses' necks. “Steady there, beauties, steady. Take a rest now, steady…”

And Maydreo led the remaining birds in a big circle, back to where Fullerman's troopers stood with throwing spears, and the cries of “Hey, Harpy!” sounded from the wagon train.

 

They were all babbling like fools. Twenty-one dead terror birds. One guardsman lightly clawed, and one bruised from where Secklers had shoved him into line with thirty stone of bird held on the end of his spear. No horses harmed, and twenty-one heads to be carried on pikes, feather trophies for the wagons, Green Stone serving up Golden Valley wine…

 

And at noon of the ninth day they saw houses on the high bluff ahead. “Condigeo,” Green Stone said. They went along the valley road to the lowland port area in triumph, knowing that the Captains in their great houses on the bluff above would be watching, noting the heads on pikes and the green and orange feathers flying from each wagon.

“But why?” Sandry asked Clever Squirrel. “Groups of them attack us, hate the horses and bison, go for the wagons. Then there are the others who couldn't care less about us unless we disturb them. Why?”

Clever Squirrel said, “I don't like it one bit.”

Heads turned to look at her. She said, “It's a god.”

“A god?”

“A god can't pay attention all the time. Coyote doesn't. When the god's not there, they're just empty-headed birds. They defend their nests. If they're hungry, they find something to kill; otherwise, no. But when the god is in their heads, they do what he tells them.”

“But why is he telling them to fight us?” Tower asked for all of them.

Squirrel said, “The god of terror birds wants more turf. You want reasons? Gods aren't reasonable. They're powerful, and they're crazy.”