Burning Tower (18 page)

“Morth of Atlantis was at Avalon,” Tower said.

“I was told that you know Morth of Atlantis. Do you really?”

Tower looked up. Lady Hartta, wife of another of the captains, but Tower couldn't remember which. “Yes, I helped get him to the sea after he drove Yangin-Atep mythical,” Burning Tower said.

“Oh! The last Atlantean magician—he must be very old. How does he look?”

Tower smiled. “Well, just then, he looked his age and then some. But he was gallant even then! He said I should stay with him—there was magic in a young girl's smile. Then they took him to the sea.”

“But he was at Avalon?”

“Yes, and he looked just fine. Much younger.”

Hartta smiled. “Younger. Burning Tower, when you see Morth of Atlantis again, tell him that the Captains of Condigeo would be more than pleased if he would visit. Or if he wishes a new place to live, we can build him a palace.”

The other ladies at the table nodded enthusiastically.

 

It was nearly midnight when the dinner ended. Torch-bearing marines guided them to the wagon camp in the Feathersnake compound. Burning Tower saw Sandry going into the factor's office and followed. Green Stone was already there.

“Did you miss me?” Tower asked.

“Of course,” Sandry said.

“Not much,” Green Stone said. “Too much work to do. The captains don't give much away.”

“What do you mean?”

Stone shrugged. “Well, you know, they keep their trade secrets. But I think we learned some things. The trade with the interior, that's important to them. Really important. I wish we knew why, but we'll find out when we go across.”

“But I know why,” Burning Tower said.

“Eh?”

“It's no secret at all,” she said. She showed her box. “It's magic. They get magic items from the interior. Their wives use them to stay pretty.”

“Really?” Sandry sounded incredulous.

All right—there won't ever be a safer time with my brother here…
She pressed the stud on the box, held it a moment, then grabbed Sandry and kissed him.

“Enough! Stop.” She felt her brother's hand on her shoulder.

“Wow.”

“Wow, huh,” Green Stone said. “You all right?”

She nodded breathlessly.

Sandry was standing like a stone.

“Is he all right? Sandry?”

Sandry said, “Tower? Was that magic?”

She held up the box.

“And not just you?” Sandry smiled. “Wow. No wonder they were desperate to get the trade going again! Green Stone, can you can give consent for a marriage—”

“Yes!” Tower said.

“No. Not just now,” Green Stone said. “You both know it would be a bad idea. You're not thinking.”

“Who wants to think?” Tower said.

“Who wants to think? About what?” Clever Squirrel stopped at the door. “Whooo! That's strong manna!” She looked from Tower to Sandry and back. “Well, no problem guessing what you're thinking about!” She looked at the box. “May I see?”

Tower reluctantly handed over the box. “If you press the silver stud, it will use up all the manna,” Tower said. “Please don't.”

“Silver. Manna flows through silver,” Squirrel said.

“I didn't know that,” Green Stone said.

“Flows, but doesn't stay. Silver won't
hold
magic. Never any reason you should have known it. We don't get much silver,” Clever Squirrel said. “This box is interesting. Did you see what it's made of?” She took out an iron knife and used that to press the stud to open the box. “Made of the same thing as what's inside, but all the manna is drained out of the outside stonewood. Makes a good insulator. Tower, they
gave
you this?”

“Yes. It's wonderful.” She looked at Sandry, who was still staring at her. “I mean, really wonderful.”

“I believe you,” Clever Squirrel said. “Now why would they give you something so valuable?”

“That's obvious,” Burning Tower said.

They were all frowning at her. “Maybe not to me?” Green Stone said.

“Look, it only has maybe one more charge in it,” Tower said. “And I sure want it to have more. So does Sandry. Don't you?”

“Oh, yeah.”

He looks like a teenage boy,
she thought.
And I like that.
She grinned. “So they made sure I'll want it. Rocky, if your wife had been along, they'd have given it to her, I think. But Lilac stayed home, so they chose me. They want our help getting more. They want us to
want
to help.”

“Stonewood,” Clever Squirrel said. “It comes from a long way off, and that's all I know about it.”

“Me too,” Green Stone said. “Not very common trade goods anyway, and nobody who sells it ever tells where they got it.”

“Well, we know now,” Burning Tower said. “East. At the Inland Sea. That's where it comes from, and that's where we have to go.” She caught Sandry's eye. They both grinned.

And he'd asked her brother to consent to a marriage. It wouldn't be fair to hold him to that, not after she'd charmed him with the glamour in that box. Would it?

T
he Captains' Council offices were on the third story of a tall building near the docks. Sandry grew impatient as the others got ready for their meeting, and walked ahead to the harbor. The conference room was on the sea side, with a balcony running all around the building. The view across the harbor was perfect. Sandry stood at the balcony rail and watched the activity below.

The harbor was large. There was an inner harbor, then channels through the swamplands, then a larger bay protected by what looked like a narrow sand spit. There were ships at anchor in the bay, some wide—they looked fat to Sandry—with sails and few rowing benches. Others were more narrow, with lots of benches. One of those might have been the
Angie Queen.
It looked enough like her, two masts, fore and aft cabins, lots of oars, but the ship was too far away to read the name on her stern.

The harbor bustled with activity. Dockhands loaded and unloaded ships at the nearby docks. In the anchored boats, sailors brought cargo up to the decks or carried it below from the decks to the holds. There seemed no pattern to all this activity, but everyone worked purposefully.

He saw half a dozen girls skimming across the water. Mers? When one came closer, Sandry could see she was standing on a board, longer than she was tall but not very wide, and she held a feathered sail. The way she held the sail steered the board. It looked like fun. She was graceful, and clearly having the time of her life.

Another girl swooshed past. Her sail was green and orange, and as she came perilously close to the docks below where Sandry stood, she waved. The sail was definitely made from a terror bird wing. They must have worked all night on it.

Two narrow ships with no masts were patrolling near the harbor entrance. Marines in bright red tunics stood on their foredecks. The oarsmen were all dressed alike, cotton tunics with horizontal stripes, and there was no sign of chains or men with whips. A drummer beat the pace, and in one of the warships the men were singing. The war galleys sailed in a big oval pattern that brought them close under the balcony where Sandry stood.

“Impressive, isn't it? Of course it's meant to be. They put this show on for me the first time I came here.”

Sandry turned to see Lord Qu'yuma. Aunt Shanda's husband, Roni's father, he thought automatically. A stocky man with no beard. He wore a miniature shield of office on a necklace, and his clothes were radiantly clean and ornately decorated. “Sir. I'd heard you were here,” Sandry said, “but last night at dinner they said you had already left.”

“And so I had,” Qu'yuma said. He stood next to Sandry. “Might be best to keep our voices low,” he said conversationally. “Some of their clerks have very good ears.” He grinned. “They sent a dolphin mer to tell us you'd arrived, and when I heard, I insisted on coming back. Rowed all night.”

“Oh. Well, sir, good to see you…”

Qu'yuma grinned wider. “Now, now. I haven't come back to steal your triumph! The fact is, we weren't getting too far with our trade negotiations, and what I heard made me think you'll get more from them than I did. Only you have to know what to ask for.”

By all accounts, Qu'yuma was the best negotiator in Lordshills. Persuasive. Roni had said once her father could talk you into anything if you listened to him long enough.

“So what are we asking for?” Sandry asked.

He stared back out at the harbor. Gulls wheeled overhead. Huge birds with big yellow bills, looking far too big to be able to fly, soared above the water, then dropped like stones, vanished beneath the water, and came up with fish. Smaller long-necked birds swam, then vanished for longer than Sandry could hold his breath before popping back up a long way from where they had gone under. After a while, he realized Qu'yuma hadn't answered.

He turned to see the older man still looking out across the harbor. He lowered his voice again. “What do we want?”

Qu'yuma moved closer. “First, a little background. For all our history, we've been cut off from the interior. The only trade in Tep's Town was by sea, and that meant we were pretty well at the mercy of Condigeo.”

“Aren't there other merchant ships?”

“Some. We even own a couple. But Condigeo controls this coast, and they're powerful enough to make it tough on anyone going against their wishes. We were pretty well at their mercy until last year when that Morth of Atlantis sank Yangin-Atep in the tar and opened up the Greenway. Now that we can trade with the interior, we've got some bargaining power.”

“Good. Okay, so what
do
we want?”

“Well, a lot of things. The right to have our own merchant ships go anywhere they like, carry any cargo they can find. Protection of our merchants from pirates. Better prices for our hemp ropes and our tar. Better prices for other stuff the kinless make. I got pretty good terms on most of that. Where I didn't get anywhere at all was getting access to the magic trade.”

“Sir?”

“They don't like to talk about it. The Captains of Condigeo have a monopoly on trade in magic items,” Qu'yuma said. “Especially now that Avalon has banned export of talismans. Some manna items come in from the north, but not very many, and the pirates at Castle Rock Bay charge so much for protection that we can hardly afford anything from up there.

“Now that Yangin-Atep is myth, we've got no god to protect us. We've got the best trained army on the coast, and pirates are too scared of the Lordkin to invade the city—”

“With good reason.”

“But without Yangin-Atep, we have no protection against magic at all.”

“Oh! So if an invader comes armed with magic, it might be hard on Lord's Town.”

“Precisely. It's no secret that we're in great need of talismans in Tep's Town. We're buying, and Condigeo's the only one selling, so the prices are steep. Only now they don't have anything to sell, and they won't tell us why.” He waved to indicate the war galley approaching them again. “But they care enough to put on that show for you. They want to impress you. From what I've heard, you've got a way past those birds. I think they need that. I never did put any stock in the idea that Condigeo was sending the birds.”

“No, sir. They're as afraid of the birds as we are.”

Qu'yuma nodded. “Good. Later you can tell me why you're sure. And Sandry, I think the magic items they sell come from inland.”

“Yes, sir. So do the Bison Tribe. And after last night we're pretty sure of it. The trade comes from what they call the Inland Sea, but it comes over land.”

Qu'yuma nodded. “That's close to what I had deduced,” he said.

“But sir, if they can reach that area by sea, why do they need land travel?”

“Costs, I'd say. It's a long way.” Qu'yuma pointed southward. “Their charts are secret, but I bought one off a merchant skipper. It's interesting. There's a long neck of land they call the Forefinger, not more than forty leagues wide, but it goes five hundred leagues, maybe more, straight south. No wind and no water most of the way down, so the only way around it is to row, only oarsmen need fresh water. If you carry enough water to keep oarsmen alive, there's not much cargo.” He shrugged. “So it's a thousand leagues and more by sea to get fifty leagues straight east, and then you have to come back again. Much easier by land.”

“But they're blocked by the birds,” Sandry said.

“Precisely. And you can deal with those?”

“So far,” Sandry said.

“Is it easy?”

“Well, it's not simple.”

“Good. Make sure the captains believe it's very hard to do. No false modesty.” Qu'yuma turned and waved. “Here come the others. Want me to sit in on this conference?”

“I wish you would. Thank you for offering.”
And for asking, for that matter, since you can pull rank on me anytime, and we both know it.

“There's a lot to learn about these captains,” Qu'yuma said. “And not much time. The main thing is dignity. Their leaders think they have earned their positions through hard work.”

“And have they?”

“Sometimes. Usually. They've all been successful ship captains, and that's something. Even so, sometimes it's influence and bribes. They'll promote anyone. We put more stock in breeding than they do.”

“And sometimes end up with Regapisk in charge,” Sandry said under his breath.

“Look what happened to him.”

“Uh—sorry, I hadn't meant you to hear that.”

“I have very good hearing. It is one of the qualifications of a diplomat,” Qu'yuma said. “Condigeo finds us odd. We find them strange. But we are more alike than they believe. Aha. Your people are arriving. And I do believe that must be my daughter's rival.” He looked down at the street below.

Green Stone and the others arrived in a wagon drawn by bison, but Qu'yuma was watching Burning Tower dismount from Spike and tie the one-horn to a rail in front of the building.

“Rival, sir?”

“Well, her mother put it that way,” Qu'yuma said. “I've known for years you were never going to be my son-in-law. Roni's going to grow up to be like her mother, and it takes a special—well, let's say that you don't have the temperament to be married to someone like your Aunt Shanda.”

“Yes, sir. I thought I did, once, but now I'm sure you're right.”

A horse-drawn wagon arrived. Marines carried Commodore Pergammon into the building. It was time for their meeting.

 

There were only five captains, including Commodore Pergammon and First Captain Granton. Pergammon was placed in a chair at the center of the table. Another man, darker and in wizard's robes, sat behind Pergammon and between Pergammon's ever-present marine attendants.

Clerks with parchments and pens sat at each end of the table. The captains sat side by side on both sides of Pergammon. Sandry and Green Stone sat opposite Pergammon, with Burning Cloud and Clever Squirrel to Sandry's left and Lord Qu'yuma to Green Stone's right. The two groups eyed each other suspiciously.

“Greetings. It's not our way to have ladies in our meetings,” Pergammon began bluntly.

“Burning Tower is my sister and one of the owners of the wagon train,” Green Stone said. “And Clever Squirrel is our shaman. It is our way.”

Not really,
Sandry thought.
They don't always bring women to their meetings.
We
do, sometimes, but often as not, the Bison Tribe leave the women at home just as we usually do.

Pergammon shrugged. “As you will. Welcome back, Lord Qu'yuma.”

“Thank you, Commodore. When I heard my nephew had arrived, I thought it best to return.”

“Your nephew,” Pergammon said. “You Lords all seem to be related.”

“Indeed, it is true,” Qu'yuma said. “Difficult to keep track of all my relatives sometimes.” His smile was disarming.

The clerks wrote furiously. Clearly they were recording everything said, but Sandry didn't think they were as good at this as the Lords Witness clerks were. They certainly didn't write as much.

“Well. It's pleasant chatting, but there's work to be done,” Pergammon said. “Lord Sandry, I have a proposition for you. But do I put it to you or Lord Qu'yuma?”

“Perhaps to both,” Qu'yuma said. “Lord Sandry is a highly competent officer, but perhaps not overly experienced in matters of commerce.”

“All right. To both of you. We want to hire your wagon train to go to the Inland Sea and back.”

“It's not my wagon train,” Sandry said.

“No, but it's not much use without your army, is it?” Pergammon demanded. “What we need is to get wagons to the Inland Sea and back. We'll pay well.”

“Bison Tribe does not usually hire out as carriers,” Green Stone said. “We prefer to be traders. But we often have partners in our adventures.”

“Partners. And what would that be, partnering?”

Green Stone smiled. “We share. Each of us owns half the cargo. Each of us pays half the costs.”

“Half the cargo. And what would that cargo be?”

Green Stone's smile broadened. “Why, Commodore, you would know far better than I what the most profitable cargoes are! I think I know what I wish to buy at Inland Sea, but for the most part, what I buy here and what I will take there for exchange will duplicate what you send and buy.”

Pergammon snorted. “Qu'yuma, are all your people like this?”

“They're not my people,” Qu'yuma said. He looked from Burning Tower to Sandry. “At least not quite yet. But yes, I think you will find there are few fools here.”

“What do you think you'll be buying at the Inland Sea?” Pergammon demanded.

“The ladies of Condigeo gave my sister a wonderful present last night,” Green Stone said. “A magical box. I am sure I could make enormous profits on such a cargo. But perhaps you know of even more profitable items. We would be pleased to learn.”