by Larry Niven
Sandry guessed that both those statements were probably true, but it bothered him anyway. The Council meeting hadn’t seemed like a trial, not at first. Just hours of “Reggy stories,” as Sandry thought of them. Everybody seemed to have one…
“Fish have parasites, see,” the Harbormaster said. Inviting him to testify was Reggy’s doom, right there. “We work a spell to persuade them to crawl out of the fish, and then we wait a few hours…but Younglord Regapisk, he came to get his fish, and he was in a hurry. He just told his men to pile them in his cart, and he went. Lord Warrand, you remember what happened? But it could have been worse.”
“All I know is my cook was screaming. She made me go down to the harbor myself and find you. The cart was crawling with what came out of those fish. See what you mean, though. If Reggy’d got there before the spells were spoke, those worms would have been still in the fish. What would they have done to us?”
Reggy stories. Sandry didn’t tell the one about him and Reggy and the mirror, he didn’t dare, but that was as funny as any he heard. Reggy and the mer people. Then suddenly this wasn’t an informal meeting at all but a Congregation of Lords Witness to Decide in the Matter of Certain Complaints Lodged against Lord Regapisk, and they’d come down hard. Harder than Reggy deserved? It cost Sandry a night’s sleep, and cost Regapisk much more, but there was no help for it. A Lord had obligations.
“Nothing he didn’t deserve,” Chalker repeated. “Here, have some more tea.”
“Fear! Fear and foes!”
The shout rang out across the square. “Fear and foes! Alarm!” There was a clatter of hooves. Sandry’s tea splashed over his wrist.
The Lordkin guard who protected the inn looked up, startled. The kinless owners rushed to gather up anything valuable and get it inside.
“Fear and foes! Alarm!” A chariot raced into Peacegiven Square.
“From the north road, Lord Sandry,” Chalker said. “That’s Younglord Maydreo.”
“Right.” Sandry leaped to his feet. “Fullerman! Turn out the guard! Maydreo, stop! Report!”
Maydreo reined in. “Can’t stop, My Lord! The border station has been attacked. Have to warn Lordstown and Lordshills.”
Now Sandry could see that the frothy sweat on the righthand horse in Maydreo’s team had a pink tinge, with some bright red spots. And there was blood trickling down Maydreo’s forehead.
“How many?” Sandry demanded.
“And how armed, Younglord?” Chalker asked from behind him. “Your pardon, Lord Sandry.”
Pardon, hell—I should have thought of it. “And how armed?”
Maydreo was babbling. “Monsters, a dozen of them, monsters. Two-legged, not men, bigger than men. Teeth and spears. Three men down, maybe more. Bordermaster Waterman and his collectors are barricaded inside the tollhouse. I have to go, My Lord. We have to turn out the guard and close the gates to Lordshills.”
“Get hold of yourself, Younglord,” Chalker said. He kept his voice low and calm. “Doesn’t do to let the Lordkin see you’re scared.”
“Right,” Sandry said. “All right, go warn the town. Take it easy on those horses! They won’t last if you run them as fast as you came here. No more than a trot, Younglord, or you will never get there. Do you understand that?”
“Yes—yes, sir.”
“Good. Hold them to a trot all the way to the Black Pit relay station, and get a fresh team there. We’ll see what we can do here. If there’s only a dozen—”
“Only twelve,” Maydreo said. “But they aren’t men.” He managed to keep his voice down. “Bigger than men. Swords grow out of their hands! And watch out—the horses can’t stand them. All our horses panicked.”
“How many chasing you?” Sandry asked.
“Seven, I think. The rest are still up there. After Waterman. And the caravan.”
“Caravan? What caravan?” Sandry demanded.
“Feathersnake caravan. Didn’t I tell you? My Lord, I have to go warn the town.” He flicked the reins, and his chariot clattered off toward Sanvin Street, the horses at a run. After a moment, he halted them, then resumed at a trot.
The Feathersnake caravan! They were here, and would Burning Tower be with them? She said she was coming back. Sandry felt a warm glow over his whole body. Burning Tower. Maybe she was here, right now! “We have to go help Waterman and the caravan,” Sandry said.
“First things first,” Chalker said, “My Lord.”
Chalker was right, of course. This was his territory, his responsibility. To protect it from fire, he thought. Monsters aren’t a fire. But it’s still my territory.
There was commotion in the stables behind, and Sandry knew Peacevoice Fullerman was getting the chariot ready and his men in armor. Only seven enemies coming here, Sandry thought. And he had a chariot and a dozen Lordsmen. How bad can that be? “Chalker, what do you make of that? Swords growing out of their hands?”
“New kind of armor, sir? Big men, good armor? I remember when that Arshur came to the city, a dozen like him in full armor would have panicked me. Maybe that’s it…. What the devil is that?”
Someone was ringing a bell. The Peacegiven Square fire bell, one ring, then three. Dibantot. The Lordkin who lived here to protect the Firesale Inn. He had climbed up onto the platform under the bell and was ringing it. Bong! Pause. Bong! Bong! Bong! Three alarm fire at Station One, which was Peacegiven Square. But there wasn’t any fire here!
But what harm would it do? Sandry thought. Maybe do some good. Couldn’t hurt to have some armed Lordkin, at least ones who’d listen. Better the Fire Brigade than anyone else. When they get here, I can go see about Bordermaster Waterman—he’ll need help. And the caravan…
There was a flash of green and orange at the north end of the square. The kinless artisan who’d been working on the fountain looked up the road and screamed in terror. He pushed his boy up onto the fountain. “Climb! Climb to the top!” Then he ran across the square toward Sandry. “My Lord, My Lord, save my son, save me!”
And five monsters burst into the square. Two kinless were in their way. A flash of green, and the monsters didn’t even slow down, the kinless were dead and trampled. The five came on, five abreast, blood dripping from their arms. One monster had a spear in its side, but that didn’t seem to bother it.
And swords grew out of their arms. It was true.
“Yangin’s pizzle! I never saw anything like that!” Peacevoice Fullerman shouted. “Form up, form up! Lock armor, lads! Lord Sandry! What do we do?” He ran up leading Sandry’s chariot. He’d hitched up Blaze and Boots, a stallion and a gelding, both big horses, Sandry’s favorites if there was trouble, but the horses were already rearing at the sight of the monsters and the smell of blood.
“Hold on, good boys,” Sandry said soothingly. He leaped onto the chariot. Chalker jumped in beside him. The kinless artisan was right in the path of the monsters.
Birds! They were birds!
They were feathered birds the size of a big pony, armed with blades where a bird has wings, and a beak big enough to swallow a prize hog. A beak full of teeth. The horses panicked, tried to turn away. Sandry wrestled with the reins, hauled them around by main force, and shouted. “Go! Go, you beauties!”
Training held. The horses darted forward toward the running kinless. Sandry brought the chariot as close to the man as he dared, hoping Chalker could handle the situation. Chalker was old, but he wasn’t weak. And there wasn’t anything else to do. Sandry hauled back on the reins, slowing the horses and causing them to rear.
“Inside, inside, man—get in!” Chalker was shouting.
Sandry felt someone beside him. “Go!” he shouted. They clattered back across the square to the assembled troopers. “Off!”
The kinless man leaped off, shouting thanks and begging them to help his son.
Son.
The boy was high up on the fountain, and the bird monsters weren’t paying him any attention. The boy was safe enough. The birds wanted something else. They w
anted Sandry.
Or—
“They’re after the horses!” Sandry shouted. And they could run as fast as horses too. Maybe not quite. These were fresh horses—panicked but fresh. Maybe—“Go!” Sandry shouted. He led the monsters away from the inn, across the square. They followed. At the far edge, Sandry turned, rode north again. The birds followed. I’ll lead them back up the road, back to the border station, Sandry thought. Only he couldn’t. The north road was cluttered with people trying to tend to the fallen. For a moment Sandry cursed them for being in his way, but that was unfair; the wounded needed attention.
He rode straight past the north road to the opposite edge of Peacegiven Square and turned again. The monsters followed, five of them, their beady eyes fixed on the chariot. Now, Sandry thought. He led them down the square and past the formed-up troopers.
“Throw!” Chalker shouted as they rode by.
“Stand ready! Aim! Throw!” Peacevoice Fullerman shouted. Spears arced out toward the monsters. Three penetrated the lead bird, and it stumbled.
“Throw!”
Another barrage of spears, and that would be all of them. Fullerman shouted to the knot of kinless huddled behind the shield wall. “Get me spears! There’s more in the barracks! Steady, lads, don’t break ranks! You, innkeeper—get me spears!”
The pretty kinless waitress was the first to understand. She rushed toward the lean-to Fullerman’s troops used as a barracks.
“Hurry, lass!”
Her hair bounced as she ran. A pretty picture. “We live through this, she’ll make a soldier’s wife!” Chalker shouted.
There wasn’t going to be time. The birds had followed Sandry’s chariot, but when the lead bird stumbled, they turned back toward their tormentors. The Lordsmen drew swords, but without spears they weren’t going to be able to hold that shield wall and still fight. The birds would tear through or around the line and be among the kinless—
Dibantot screamed curses and leaped off the fire bell platform. He ran toward the downed bird, still shouting, and hacked at it with his big Lordkin knife. The monster fell in a shower of blood.
Now the others had seen Dibantot. They turned away from Fullerman’s line and charged. Dibantot looked around, saw there was nowhere to go, and took a fighting stance. He shouted defiance, a Lordkin to the last, but he never had a chance. He hacked at one and then he was down, speared with those great swords the birds wore in place of wings, his body torn by kicks from their clawed feet. They turned toward Fullerman’s group. The pretty waitress and the innkeeper were handing out spears.
“Hold steady, lads! Get behind us, Miss!” Fullerman shouted. “Squad, kneel! Ground your spear butts!”
Training again, Sandry thought. Training. The guardsmen knelt, shields still locked, spear butts to the ground and points held ahead of them. The birds charged. One man screamed in terror and left his post, running away. The others held, and one of the birds impaled itself on a spear. It ran right up the length of the spear to strike down the man who held it. The other three broke past the Lordsmen to pursue the running guard. One leaped onto the man’s back, and he was down, torn apart by kicking feet. The birds turned again.
All of the Lordsmen were busy finishing off the impaled bird. Two more men were down, but they seemed to be moving.
Sandry wheeled the chariot and charged at the birds. “Be ready!”
“Sir!” Chalker said. He hefted a throwing spear. “Ready, sir.”
“Now!”
Sandry wheeled the chariot to the left so that Chalker was facing the birds. “Away!” Chalker shouted.
“Go!” The horses had no problems with that order. “Go, Blaze! Go, you beauties!”
“Pulling away,” Chalker said. He took another spear from the rack. “One’s not running very well.”
“Need another chariot out here,” Sandry said.
“Firegod’s piss, we need twenty!” Chalker said, but there was a lilt to his voice.
He loves this, Sandry thought. Come to that, so do I! Hoofbeats on the square, wind in my face, and a monster chasing behind. Fighting fires is important work, but I was born for this!
Wheel again. Lead them around the square. Hope Fullerman has the troops formed up and ready again. He could spare a moment to look. The innkeeper and his waitress daughter were carrying the wounded inside. Fullerman had the remaining troops formed and ready. Everything was all right. “We’ll take a run past Fullerman’s troop.”
“Make ready to throw!” Chalker shouted.
“Make ready. Steady lads, hold on. Ready now—throw!” Fullerman ordered.
There was a cheer from the guards, but Sandry couldn’t look back. The horses were flecked with foam now, and they were harder to control. “Steady, Blaze. Steady, Boots.” Horses liked to hear their names, and to hear a calm voice from a human. “Steady, you beauties.”
“Another one down,” Chalker said. “Two left, one’s wounded, and all that running has slowed them a bit.”
“About time,” Sandry said. “Okay, what?”
“Turn up ahead, and slow down. I’ll throw the last spear. When I throw, move again, sir.”
“Right. Good tactics.” Maybe he knows what these things are? “Turning. Slow, slow, you beauties, slow.”
The horses didn’t want to slow to a trot. They wanted to run flat out. It was all Sandry could do to slow them.
“I’m ready—here it goes. Go, sir.”
The horses leaped ahead without waiting for orders. They could sense the urgency in Chalker’s voice.
“Got him!” Chalker shouted. “And here come the Lordkin! They’re on the wounded one! Hacking him up!”
“Where’s the last one?”
“About twenty feet behind us, sir.”
“Get a rope out.”
“Sir?”
“Rope. I’m going to wheel. Try to lasso it.”
“Don’t know how.”
“Blast. Me either,” Sandry said. But I thought you knew everything! He continued to lead the remaining bird in a wide loop. “What are the Lordkin doing?”
“Distracting the bird,” Chalker reported. “You can look back.”
Sandry slowed the horses to a walk and looked behind him. The Lordkin were challenging the bird.
“We need it alive!” Sandry shouted. No one listened. These were Lordkin. Ah. There was Ilthern, some kind of relative to Wanshig, young but clearly a leader. “Ilthern! As a great favor, we need that one alive!” Sandry shouted. “We’ll pay a bonus.”
That got some attention. One Lordkin stripped off his shirt and waved it at the bird.
“It’s confused, I think,” Chalker said. “Too many targets. I don’t think them things are any too smart.”
Maybe it will chase us until it’s exhausted, Sandry thought. He wheeled again and dashed past the bird. The sight of the horses set it off toward them, but faster than before, and Sandry had to let the horses run to pull away from it.
“Sir, I can lay the rope in a loop out behind us. When it steps in, you go. It’s falling behind, it’s not as fast as it was. Tiring out, I think.”
I hope so, Sandry thought, as he watched the buildings of the square flash past. The horses are tired, but they’ve still got some spunk. “Okay. Get ready. Tell me when to stop.”
“Got the rope…. Got a loop…. Okay, sir, anytime.”
“Whoa!”
The horses were startled. Stop? Here? But he hauled on the reins, and they slowed, stopped, quivering.
“Laid out. Move at a walk; I’ll lay out line. Here it comes.”
Sandry wanted to look back, but it was better to look where he was going—He felt Chalker jerk hard on the rope. “Got him! Ride!”
“At a trot,” Sandry called to the horses in as calm a voice as he could manage. “Trot. Go.” He kept light pressure on the reins to keep the horses from pulling too hard.
“It’s down, sir.”
Sandry turned hard left, whipping around in a circle. “Wrap him up
.”
“Doing that. Here come the Lordkin.”
“We want it alive!” Sandry shouted. Now he could look. The beast was down.
The Lordkin stood back, then one ran in and threw his shirt over the bird’s head. Another came up to do the same and was slashed by one of those wing-spears. He fell back, cursing.
“There’s Chief Wanshig,” Chalker said carefully. Then he shouted, “Yes, sir!” and leaped out of the chariot with another rope. Chalker ran up to throw the rope over the beast’s neck, then hauled in the direction opposite the chariot. “Chief Wanshig, if some of your laddies could help here?” Chalker shouted.
Wanshig laughed and came over to take hold of the rope. A half dozen others joined him.
The bird was trapped. And now, Sandry thought, all I need is a cage to put it in.
Chapter Five
Wagon Train
“Maydreo said seven more coming,” Sandry said. “Only five got here.”
“Yes, sir. Maybe they went back to the border station.”
“Waterman’s in trouble,” Sandry said. “And there’s a caravan. A Feathersnake caravan.”
“Yes, sir,” Chalker said. “I understand, we have to look into all that. But you better let Fullerman change horses first. You’ll need fresh. No point in going until you get them.”
Which was true enough. The sudden spurts of flat out running had tired the horses quickly. Better to have new. “See to that, and load up with spears,” Sandry said. “And have Fullerman choose us a good spearman to ride up with us.”
“Right.” Chalker led the chariot toward the stables behind the inn, where the soldiers were clustered around the innkeeper’s smiling daughter.