Burning Tower (43 page)

“R
eggy! Wake up, Lord Reg!”

“My head hurts,” Regapisk complained.

“Awake! Now! I need you.” Arshur's shouts couldn't be ignored. Regapisk noted that there was no one else on the mat with him. Whatever her name, she'd gotten up before he woke.

“Regapisk!” Arshur's voice had a snap to it.

“Coming, Majesty,” Regapisk called. He pulled on a gown, hardly noticing the supple fibers and rich colors that would have made the garment worth a fortune in Lordshills. He found Arshur seated at breakfast. A dozen scribes crowded around him.

“Yes, Majesty.”

Arshur grinned. “The Emperor asks a favor.”

“Instantly,” Regapisk said.

Arshur nodded, and Jaguar's priest said, “The Emperor finds that his duties today are more extensive than he anticipated.”

Arshur laughed. “Everything's going to hell, and I haven't finished telling him the half of it! There are situations to deal with to the north as well as the west. We'll be all day planning this stuff!”

The Jaguar-headed priest nodded and continued, “And thus the Supreme One asks that the king's companion greet the new guests who arrived last night. I believe you have already seen them yesterday at dinner.”

“I did, priest.”

“They were invited by the Supreme One, and they must be conducted into the city by a suitably important official,” Jaguar said. “Come to the window, if you please, King's Companion.”

“Sure.”

Jaguar pointed. “You see the Imperial Palace, and the great Temple Mesa Fajada to the north there.”

“Yes.”

“Now look west, across the river, beyond the merchant homes. You see a palace against the cliff there. That is reserved for important visitors. Your friends would be lodged there, and all was made ready for them, but now King Arshur has invited them here. They may choose as they will. The servants expect them.”

“Bring them here, Lord Reg,” Arshur shouted.

“As the king commands, then,” Jaguar said. “Bring them here.” He bowed formally. “The Supreme One requests that you go to the gate and in his name welcome his guests and conduct them into the city. Chariots await you outside.”

 

The roads were clear and the horses—all mares, Regapisk noted—were fresh, but it took over an hour to get to the gate from the king's palace. He found Sandry, Tower, and Squirrel in the dining area of the Caravanserai.

“You again?” Sandry said.

Regapisk grinned. “Not just me. I am here as king's companion to welcome you to Aztlan in the name of the Supreme One. Welcome, guests. I am to conduct you inside.”

The effect was startling. Everyone nearby bowed, not head to the ground but low.

 

They passed through the gates. Burning Tower held Sandry's arm tightly. “Four days, then,” she said. “And then we'll be married. Finally!”

“I can't help wishing it were all done and we were headed for home,” Sandry said.

“But think of what we will see! And the stories we will tell,” Tower said. Her eyes darted everywhere. People stopped whatever they were doing, scampered for the road's edge, and then bowed as the chariots passed. She examined their mode of dress. Their skin color varied, but she thought she could pass as one of them. If she had to.

Her thoughts toyed with notions of escape. Traders on the Hemp Road did not like to be so restricted, and trading partners could turn in an instant.

But mostly she thought of the coming wedding. How would she look? What gowns did they have for her? The Emperor would preside. It would be magnificent.

And then he would claim Spike. She tried not to think of that, to concentrate on Sandry and her wedding day.

 

The way led through the city. Regapisk pointed out the military barracks and training ground, the stables, a hospital. He turned down the river road to show them the jewelry shop in the house by the river. There was a market beyond that.

Squirrel was sniffing the air like a dog, catching scents, no doubt, but manna traces too.

The road led to the Imperial Palace, and the great Temple Mesa. It gleamed in the prenoon sun, tiles of all colors, awnings and shades above the balconies.

“Mesa Fajada,” Regapisk said. “You saw it from the High Road.”

“Impressive,” Tower said. “That may be the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen.”

The road led up the river directly toward the Mesa. Regapisk pointed to his left. “The Imperial Palace.”

The palace faced the temple. There was a huge raised flat plaza backed by an arc of multistoried buildings, rows and rows of narrow windows facing the plaza. The plaza itself faced the Temple Mesa. The walls behind the buildings were bare, no windows or doors at all. All windows faced the plaza, and across it, the Mesa Fajada.

“The Emperor lives there?” Sandry asked.

“I think not, Cousin,” Regapisk said. “The Supreme One lives where he chooses, of course, but I believe he has his apartments up there.” He pointed upward to a great wooden balcony that ringed Mesa Fajada.

“That's high,” Sandry said. “Twenty manheights?”

“I am told thirty. It felt that high,” Regapisk said. As they came closer to the Mesa, they could see a continual line of baskets flowing up and down along the mesa sides. When they were closer still, Regapisk pointed. “The Wall of Hearts. Slow, driver, that our guests may see.”

It wasn't that impressive, just a big old stucco wall with a checkerboard pattern, crude compared to the newer structures around it. A more ornate tiled wall rose high at the base of the mesa. A bridge crossed over the wall from the landing platform for baskets to the Imperial Palace itself, actually bridging over the old wall, which wasn't high enough to be seen from the palace courtyard. The wall was old and dusty, but ornately dressed guards stood post at either end, and the air was full of a fluttering sound just at the edge of Tower's hearing. Sandry watched the wall with brooding intensity. He did not suggest that they stop.

“Old blood,” Squirrel murmured, “and murder. There's manna in murder, did you know that? There's a special name for wizards who get their power that way.”

Their way led past the wall and around the Imperial Palace, which was even larger than Sandry had thought.

 

The sun was still high when they reached the king's palace. There was time for a sweatbath. Sandry again declined in favor of a pool. He was relaxing in the warm water when a servant came.

“Come,” the man said urgently. “You are requested. The Supreme One himself will greet you. Come!”

T
hey dressed hurriedly and were whisked away in large wagons. Three passengers and a driver in each wagon—they were called by the same word that Aztlan used for chariots, but to Sandry they were far too unwieldy to deserve that noble name—and each drawn by four mares. The driver wore brilliantly polished bronze armor that shone in the sun, and there was a case of spears next to him, but the spears were also polished, with black wooden shafts that gleamed without signs of ever having been held by human hands. There was no bow.

The driver was competent on the paved roads. Sandry wondered how good he'd be in a war formation.

They drove up to the Imperial Palace, and through an arched door into gloom. This part of the palace was a bewildering series of walls and small rooms, not well lighted, with no windows. Statues stood lonely in some of the rooms. Others were empty. They turned a corner to see bright daylight coming down a broad staircase.

They climbed the stairs to what Sandry had thought was the palace roof, but instead it was the immense tiled plaza built high above ground level. The plaza faced the great Mesa Fajada temple and was high enough that from its center they could not see the Wall of Hearts at the mesa's base. The flat plaza surface was marked by four large circular openings, each ten manheights across.
Kivas,
Sandry remembered. Ceremonies were carried out in there. Some were secret.

Behind the plaza facing the mesa were tiers of seats built against the multistoried buildings. The seats were just filling with people. People streamed in, some from the
kivas,
some from other stairs onto the plaza, many from inside the various palace buildings.

They were led to the center of the plaza. There was a great
kiva,
and they were led down a stairway into it. As they vanished, there were cheers from the crowd behind them.

The
kiva
was a large circular pit three manheights deep. It was partially roofed over by silk tapestries held up by an elaborate arrangement of spars and hoops projecting from the walls. The tapestries were too thin to provide much shade, but they were brilliantly colored and decorated by drawings and strange complex symbols. Sandry could not make out what they represented.

A bench ran all around the walls, broken only by the entrances. There were two entrances, steep stairways barely wide enough for two abreast to enter or leave.

Down on the floor of the
kiva,
ornate tables and chairs stood in the bright sun. Servants held umbrellas, and despite the blazing sun, the guests felt cool when they sat at the tables in the shade. More servants brought stone cups of fruit juices.

“Ice,” Clever Squirrel said. “Ice.”

“You sound impressed,” Regapisk said.

“I am impressed. Do you know how much manna is needed to make ice here?”

Regapisk nodded sagely.

Servants came and bowed. A great gong sounded from deep inside the palace. The umbrellas were lowered, and another gong sounded.

The
kiva
filled with thick white smoke, so thick that Sandry could barely see his drink on the table, but the smoke had no smell and did not sting his eyes. More like fog than smoke, he thought.

Shapes appeared, and as the smoke cleared, the guest saw masked priests. When the cloud was gone, the priests spread their arms high above their heads to the great cheers of the crowd behind them. Sandry wondered just how many of the people could see into the
kiva
. Enough, he supposed.

“The stairs aren't wide enough,” Regapisk muttered. It took Sandry a moment to understand. Then he nodded. He counted sixteen priests plus attendants. That many priests could not have come in by the stairs. There hadn't been enough time. There was another way into the
kiva
.

A secret entrance, or else magic, Sandry thought.

The priests bowed to their guests, then took places at the tables. When they were all seated, servants brought food.

 

Clever Squirrel regarded the array of priests and tried to pick them out. Turkey was easily recognized. And Bison Woman, looking very much the same here as back on the Hemp Road. As Squirrel watched, Bison Woman came over to them and bowed to Burning Tower.

“Welcome to Aztlan. You are to be married here. Is this the fortunate man?”

Burning Tower blushed. “Yes.”

“We have our customs and requirements, of course, and anyone married by the Emperor is married indeed throughout all the worlds, but the Supreme One commands that all be done according to your customs as well as ours,” Bison Woman said. “And we have little time. Would you come with me to speak of the necessary details?”

“Of course.” Burning Tower stood.

Bison Woman smiled thinly. “And you as well, Lord Sandry. If you please.”

Clever Squirrel chuckled to herself and regarded the other priests. Road Runner's priest had escorted them to Aztlan in a flying basket. That gorgeously dressed bareheaded man was another of the four priests who had come to Sunfall Crater; she'd wondered if he was Terror Bird's priest. That—her heart leapt. The man who stepped to meet them wore Coyote's mask. She knew it, however unfamiliar. It felt like coming home.

The mask exposed his mouth, and she could see his grin. “I am Coyote's priest,” he said. Confronting Regapisk and Clever Squirrel, he did not bow.

Regapisk made introductions. Coyote's priest said, “Coyote's daughter? Clever Squirrel, I've been eager to meet you. Have you seen Coyote yourself?”

“Not seen. Sometimes I feel him in my mind. He was in my father's mind the night I was conceived.”

“I don't see him either. I sense him in my thoughts when matters around me become most amusing or most confusing.”

“Such as?”

Regapisk had moved down the table and was eating ribs. Sandry and Tower had been led away. Squirrel was effectively alone with Coyote's priest. He said, “Things have turned wonderfully active since you people turned up. A dozen priests are all in detention, awaiting the coronation ceremony on Mesa Fajada with no great eagerness. The Emperor is not expected to appear in his formal cloak, the one covered with terror bird feathers. There's speculation and rumor. Can you tell me—”

Squirrel nodded. “The cloaks at the crater all turned to hummingbird feathers. Enough to cover a small blanket.”

“Then the Emperor's great cloak must have too!” Coyote's priest barked laughter. “Try this—it's rattlesnake. Chili for dipping. What can you tell me about the war against the birds?”

Squirrel described the battle at Sunfall and its end at the sweatbath. “And a hummingbird tried to kill me. It must have been possessed.” It wouldn't be good if the Emperor's servants learned too much of Sandry's tactics, she thought; but what would a shaman know about that? Squirrel could sense a watching presence behind her eyes. Coyote was with her. Was the god with his shaman too?

Coyote's priest asked, “Have you questions, Clever Squirrel?”

“To ask a question, one must know most of the answer. We just got here.”

“Start somewhere. Ask a bad question.”

“We're sleeping three in a room. Is that normal?”

“I expect the concierge thought you'd want to guard each other. Besides, three in a room makes a visitor welcome, because four is lucky. Would you prefer your own rooms? Something about your marriage customs?”

“Exactly. Sandry has enough to put up with without that!…Tell me about the priest with no mask.”

“He stands in for all the forgotten gods. You thought he stood in for Left-Handed Hummingbird? No, that one waits with the rest of the bird's priests. We must have four fours of gods, though, and some entity must be chosen to replace the bird. Ask again.”

“The wall,” she said, “What's it for?”

For an instant, she glimpsed an answer; and then Coyote's priest said, “For the hearts of the enemies of the Empire, and certain heroes too. Ask again.”

He'd slipped aside from something important; she knew that. It struck her that she was being invited to display her ignorance. Change directions? “When do you take off your mask?”

He grinned. “Do you really want to know?”

She grinned in return. Then the gongs sounded.

“Follow me,” Coyote's priest said urgently. “Watch me and be careful.”

“But—”

“Come.”

Everyone rose, quickly, and climbed the stairs to the plaza level, where they stood facing Mesa Fajada. Sandry, Tower, and Buffalo Woman hurried across the plaza to join them. They all stood, waiting, and Squirrel didn't dare turn to see, but she thought that all those in the stands behind them, hundreds, perhaps thousands, were standing also. The silence was awesome.

The sun burned hot, and there was no wind. Squirrel lost track of time. Then the gongs, and now trumpets, sounded from all around them, from in the
kiva
and from the plaza itself, although there was no sign of musicians or instruments. The gongs and trumpets rose to a crescendo.

Brilliant fire flashed from the top of Mesa Fajada. All looked up. A man stood there, a big man on a tiny balcony jutting out from the big circular balcony. He wore a cloak of fine black fur and a long, wonderfully embroidered kilt. He was bareheaded and shirtless and scarred along chest and belly. She squinted to see him. He was terribly far away.

“Welcome, our guests from afar!” His voice rang; it filled the plaza and the city beyond. It might have filled the whole earth, Squirrel thought, and knew she was being silly. But the Empire threw magic around as if there were no tomorrow. Squirrel remembered an argument out of a dream. The priests of Terror Bird did have a point.

“People of Aztlan, we welcome Lord Sandry of Lordshills and the City of Yangin-Atep. Welcome, Burning Tower, heiress of the House of Feathersnake, a great one of the far lands of the Hemp Road. Welcome, Clever Squirrel, Daughter of Coyote.”

The crowd stirred at that announcement, a short sound that might have been pleasure and might have been amazement, cut off quickly as the great voice continued to boom. “Welcome, Lord Regapisk of Lordshills and companion to our new king, Arshur. Welcome all!”

There was a short pause, then the priests began to cheer. The cheers were taken up by the crowd behind them. “Hail and welcome! We greet you, guests from afar! Welcome to the king and his companion. The king! The king!”

Squirrel looked up. There was another man standing with the Emperor, blond and taller even than the Supreme One. Arshur the Wanderer, at home at last.

“The king!”

“I would come to be among my people this night, but that the king has laid massive obligations on me,” the great voice boomed. “And now we prepare the coronation feast, and other wonders for my people.”

“I can barely see him,” Squirrel whispered. “He's glowing like the sun in my eyes!”

And suddenly the Emperor was not far away at all. His image grew and grew until he was nearly as large as Mesa Fajada. His presence was immense.

Tower winced. He looked like he'd been gutted like a trout.

Sandry's look spoke for him: grim, and a little sick. “Those scars!”

The priests looked at Sandry with alarm, and Squirrel felt fear. Her eyes pleaded with Sandry, but he didn't need the reminder. He fell silent and waited.

There was a long pause as the enormous image showed itself to the people of Aztlan. Then the gongs sounded, the image faded, and the balcony was empty.

 

They were silent as they went down the stairs to the stables under the plaza, and there was little conversation as they returned to the king's palace. The banqueting hall seemed small and familiar compared with the glaring open plaza and the great mesa above.

“Are you all right?” Burning Tower asked.

Squirrel smiled without warmth. “He was—impressive.”

“Frightening, you mean,” Tower said.

“Very.”

“But very generous,” Tower said.

Squirrel could hear the excitement in her sister's voice. And why not? She was to be married soon, and unlike Coyote's daughter, Tower would mate for life, coupling with a man she loved. “Are your wedding plans set?”

“No, we are to meet with Bison Woman again. And Jaguar's priest, and of course Coyote's—they'll all take part.” She turned serious. “I'm going to miss Spike.”

“Nothing you can do about that,” Squirrel said.

“No. I do want to be married. But it will be hard saying good-bye to him.” Her mood brightened. “Bison Woman says we can go anywhere we like in the domains of the Emperor. There are wonderful places here. Maybe we'll see some of them, but mostly, I want to go home with my new husband.”

Squirrel smiled agreement.

Bison Woman came to collect Burning Tower for another conference. Tower and Bison Woman and Sandry went to a table in the far corner of the room, where they were instantly surrounded by a host of scribes.