Burning Tower

by Larry Niven

  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 agreem
ent. “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!”

  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.

  Chapter Three

  Firewoods Town

  On 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 yo
u’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.

  Chapter Four

  More Terror Birds

  This 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.