Burning Tower (52 page)

B
urning Tower slept fitfully. When it was Sandry's turn to steer, Burning Tower stood next to him, sharing the warmth of his cloak. Her white wedding dress was soiled and torn in places, and she knew she looked awful, but there were no other clothes on the boat. For now she wore everything she owned, and there wasn't even a comb to pull the knots out of her hair. With no mirror, she couldn't see how awful she looked, but she could imagine.

She fingered the hard object in a leather pouch at her waist. A small stonewood box with a silver stud for a latch.
At least I have this,
she thought.
He'll love me no matter what I look like. Do I need it?

I can still ride Spike.
The thought came unbidden and returned whenever she made the effort to banish it. With it came memories. The wild ride across the plains outside Crescent City, herds of terror birds following, Sandry's men depending on her and her alone to lead the birds away from their chariots before their horses tired.

Spike didn't get tired!

And the battle at Sunfall, Spike rearing above his enemies, her war hammer smashing birds and rebel priests alike. She'd never been more alive.
Warrior princess.
Who had called her that? Sareg, the guard captain.
Warrior princess.
She liked that idea.

Now she was a queen, in Aztlan. What did they do with queens after the king went to the gods? She shuddered.

She'd had no choices in Aztlan. She could have refused to marry, but if she'd avoided marrying Sandry, she would still be prey to someone. Coyote, the Emperor, one of his sons. Spike would go to the Emperor and she would lose him forever no matter what she did. They told her that the accomplished Lady Annalun could harness the one-horns, but Tower had noticed that while Spike didn't shy
away
from Annalun, he didn't like her either. No. They wouldn't have let her keep Spike in Aztlan. She could be queen or something else, but never a warrior princess. She had no choices there….

“Right! Hard right!” Regapisk called and interrupted her thoughts, part dream, part reverie.

Sandry hauled left on the steering oar. She had been standing so close to him that she nearly fell.

“Sorry, my love,” Sandry said.

Casually, she thought. She knew she was being unfair. Sandry couldn't be more attentive, usually, and he had to steer the ship, and he resented taking orders from his cousin. And soon, really soon, they would be alone together.

She looked down at the ruins of her dress. The butterflies were long gone. She had never been more beautiful. But that was then, in Aztlan. Now the dress was torn and her hair matted, and her hands and feet were dirty despite washing in river water.

Would he want her, now that she wore rags and looked like grim death? She fingered the box she'd been given in Condigeo.
He'll want me all right. But would he if I didn't have this?

 

The sky brightened to the east. When the sun rose, they were moving swiftly down a broad river, the crest of their wave almost to the banks. The deck was above the banks; they could see across the plains to either side. The river was a bright ribbon of green through the brown lands.

“There!” Clever Squirrel was jumping up and down. “There! The city! Crescent City ahead!”

The river broadened, and they moved more slowly. Now there were settlements to each side, the familiar hogans that the people of Crescent City built: male, female, young and elder.

“The willow grove,” Sandry said. “We went there to gather willow bark, about ten thousand years ago.” More than a dozen workers were stripping bark from the trees. They stopped their labors and stared as the ship went past. “It was deserted when we went there before.”

“No birds,” Squirrel said.

“That's for sure. The birds haven't come back,” Sandry said. “Houses along here now, no walls.”

“And no manna,” Regapisk said.

He spoke calmly, and for a moment, no one reacted. Then Squirrel looked over the side, ahead and behind them. “Curse! They're drawing all the manna!”

The ship settled deeper into the water.

“Will it float?” Sandry asked.

Flensevan laughed. “It never would have floated, and it sure won't with the windows knocked out. The hold's full of water. Of course it won't float.”

Regapisk stared ahead. “Right. Steer right. Just a little more. There. Steady on—”

“We'll hit the bank!” Burning Tower shouted.

“I sure hope we make it that far,” Regapisk said. They were headed almost straight across the stream now, moving downriver with the flood but angling toward the bank, going as fast as the water flowed. “Hope the bottom's strong!” Regapisk shouted.

“It's ironwood, it's strong,” Flensevan said. “Hold on!”

“Left! Turn left, hard left!” Regapisk shouted. “Work the rudder! Row with the rudder oar!”

The boat turned downriver, still angled toward the bank. The bow touched ground, carved its way into the muddy river bank. When the boat slowed, it allowed more water to catch up with them. The water behind them was higher and pushed them further inland. They were over what had been dry land, now flooded with the remnants of the rushing storm water.

“Which way?” Sandry shouted.

“Doesn't matter,” Regapisk said simply.

The manna was gone.
Little Rainbow
settled onto a greasewood bush and hung there, heeling over slightly to rest on the nearly flat bottom. Water rushed past on both sides, then on the left side only, then receded. The storm waters passed, and
Little Rainbow
was at rest in what had been dry plains land only minutes before. Furious prairie dogs popped out of holes and shook off water. The river was twenty muddy paces away.

“Welcome to Crescent City,” Regapisk said.

Sandry asked, “Flensevan, are we stable?”

“Looks like.”

Squirrel put a hand on Regapisk's feathered arm. “You can sleep.”

“Sleep?” Regapisk tasted the thought. “I'm going to fall over now.” She helped him recline on the deck…and he was gone.

“Wedding nights are exhausting,” Sandry said. Burning Tower hugged him, then giggled. Nobody else even noticed.

S
andry climbed to the top of the boat rail and stared south. “Looks like about an hour's walk to the city.”

“Closer if you have a boat,” Egret said.

“One that floats,” Pink Rabbit agreed.

“But we don't. I'll walk,” Sandry said.

“We don't dare leave this unguarded,” Flensevan said.

“You stay here. I'll be back. Find me something to trade. Or some money.”

“Find Zeph.” Regapisk raised himself on one elbow. “Take a good talisman and find Zeph. He'll need a good one to get here, but if anyone can float
Little Rainbow
, it will be Zephans.”

Sandry shrugged. “I don't know how to find him.”

“I do,” Regapisk said. He tried to get up. “I suppose it can't wait.”

“It can wait long enough for you to get some rest,” Sandry said. “I'll hike into town and buy a wagon. Or hire one. Get some sleep, Reggy. Flensevan, find me some trade goods. Tower, you up to walking?”

“Not in these shoes,” she said. She looked down at the shreds of her wedding dress. “Or these rags, for that matter.”

“I'll go with you,” Clever Squirrel said. “Tower, I can buy you some clothes.”

“Find Jade Coin,” Regapisk said. “Ruser won't be back yet, but Jade Coin is a partner.”

“Another partner?” Flensevan demanded. “How many share our wealth?”

“Just four, now that Arshur is dead,” Regapisk said. “Jade Coin is a money changer. You, me, Jade Coin, and your brother. We all have shares in Ern's wagon train too.”

“If the wagon train escapes the Emperor's wrath,” Flensevan said.

Regapisk laughed heartily despite his weariness.

“The Emperor is amusing?” Flensevan demanded.

“No, but who will tell him the wagon train is escaping?” Regapisk said. “King Sandry?”

“I had not thought this through,” Flensevan said. “I have been in terror all the day, but you are right, there is no king! There is no one to tell the Supreme One that things did not go well in the river battle, and there will be no one to tell him of the escaping wagon train! We are safe for years to come!” He turned to Sandry and gave him a sweeping bow. “Majesty!”

Sandry grinned.

Flensevan became serious. “And there is Zeph,” he said. “He'll get a share of
Little Rainbow
and anything in her.”

Now Regapisk looked stern. “I never offered him any shares.”

“This is his boat,” Flensevan reminded him.

“Well, it's all right,” Regapisk said. “I liked him. Didn't like the salt farm much.”

“What about us?” Burning Tower demanded.

Flensevan looked sly.

“We never drew up agreements, but Squirrel has a right to the shaman's shares,” Tower insisted. “And Sandry was the guard commander. He fought too. He gets shares.”

Clever Squirrel was chuckling. “I doubt that the rules of the Bison Tribe on the Hemp Road apply here on the road to Aztlan.”

“Fair is fair,” Burning Tower said. “Tell you what, Flensevan: you choose a champion to fight Sandry, and a wizard to duel Squirrel, and we can settle the matter right now.”

Flensevan leaned forward to stare at her. “You are not serious.”

“Well, I might be.”

“We should charge you for passage,” Egret said. “King Sandry, Queen Burning Tower.”

“We don't even know what's left,” Flensevan said. “Whatever it is, it's all we have. We can never go back. I lived well in Aztlan.”

“So did everyone,” Egret said.

“Everyone whose heart didn't go into the wall,” Clever Squirrel said. “Are we going to argue until the next storm?”

“We are Feathersnake,” Burning Tower said. “Squirrel, my husband, and I. Feathersnake always makes things right.”

“Why have I heard this name, Feathersnake?” Flensevan asked.

“There were legends,” Pink Rabbit said. “A feathered serpent. The name gives me chills.”

“No need for chills,” Burning Tower said. “We seek only our own.”

“There is treasure in plenty, here and on the wagon train, and we are all safe,” Clever Squirrel said. “And I ask again, will we argue until the next storm comes?”

“I won't,” Sandry said. “I have more pleasant tasks. Squirrel, choose some trade goods, and a talisman for Zeph.” He looked to see if anyone questioned his right. None did.

 

Sandry and Squirrel reached the city gates at high noon. The guards shouted excitedly. “Sandry!” one called. “Lord Sandry!”

“The same. Let us in.”

“We have sent for the mayor. He will wish to greet you himself.”

Leaving us standing here in the sun,
Sandry thought.
At Aztlan they had the Caravanserai. And in Lordshills we have the guard rooms.

But the mayor came quickly, with a train of officials. He wore his robes of office, and all of them wore jewelry.

“Greetings, Mayor,” Squirrel said. “I see you no longer fear the birds.”

Mayor Buzzard at Play fingered his pectoral jewels. “Yes, things are back to normal. The birds no longer come when manna is exposed. But there is so little manna here!”

“That will change,” Sandry said. “Ern is coming with a wagon train of charged talismans. And we have many with us as well.”

“You are not with Ern,” the Mayor said. “You left by the east Gate with a wagon train. You return on foot to the River Gate. I believe you have a story to tell.”

“We do,” Sandry said. “A story, and treasure to show, but all that will be later. For now, we need wagons and draft animals.”

“These are scarce,” the mayor said.

“We have goods to trade.”

“And credit with Jade Coin,” Buzzard at Play said. “I am aware.” He stood aside and gestured to the guards to open the gates. “Welcome to Crescent City, Lord Sandry.”

T
he inn was called the Black Stone. It faced south, and from a small balcony there was a view of the sea, calm in the afternoon sun. Burning Tower sat alone at a table on the balcony. She wore a new skirt and blouse, buckskin and cotton, nothing like the finery of Aztlan, but it felt good to be dressed properly. A pretty waitress brought her tea. Her name was Laughing Rock. Regapisk had introduced her when he brought Tower and Sandry to this place where he had insisted that they would stay.

“Lord Reg is safe, then?” the girl asked.

“Very.”

The waitress smiled. “I had hoped he would come back.”

Tower nodded absently.
Tonight,
she thought.
Tonight.

“Did he have many adventures?”

“Yes.”

“But he did not marry?”

Burning Tower smiled thinly as she thought of the Lady Annalun and her charges. “No, he did not marry.”

“What happened to his friend?” the girl asked.

“He died.”

“Oh. I guess you don't want to talk about it.”

“Not now, thanks,” Tower said.

“Of course not now, I am sorry. But I became very fond of Lord Reg,” Laughing Rock said.

“Many have,” Tower said, but she said it under her breath.

The waitress went away. Of course she wasn't just a waitress—she was the owner's daughter, and Regapisk had insisted on coming to this inn and restaurant. To repay a kindness, Reggy had said. Sandry had looked startled.

Sandry often looked surprised at Regapisk.
There's so much I don't know,
Tower thought.
About my husband, about Regapisk, about the Lords.

“It's ready.” Clever Squirrel called from below.

For a moment, Burning Tower was startled. “Oh. All right.” She gathered her things and went down the stairs to where Squirrel was waiting.

“You look great,” Squirrel said.

Tower tried to smile. “Not much like a bride. Not in this outfit. Maybe I should have let them buy me a wedding dress. Sandry wanted to.”

“What for?”

“That's what I thought—what for? I will never look as pretty as I did in Aztlan, and no one will ever have a more lovely gown. Now it's all in ruins.”

“Are you crying?”

“Maybe a little,” Tower said.

“Over losing your gown?”

“Well, and everything.” She bit her lip. “Will he still love me? Am I really married?”

Squirrel looked serious. “Sister, you are married. May I never meet anyone more married! Before your gods and his, before Aztlan, with the Emperor and Coyote himself as witnesses! Don't worry about what you wear. Whatever you put on, you won't be in it long! Not after you use that charm thing of yours.”

“I don't want to use it.”

“Oh?”

“I'm afraid. Suppose I need it?”

“You don't need it,” Squirrel said. “You look great! And I never saw a man more obviously in love.”

“He's not here!”

“He's not far, and you insisted on shopping and bathing alone!”

They had reached the sweatbath. Squirrel ushered her inside.

 

Tower lay dreamily on the bench and felt the heat of the place. The walls faded, and she was somewhere else. She had never been there before, but she could see every detail. Trees, but all in gemstone hues. Something white flashed through the stone trees.

“Where?”

“Hush.” Squirrel's voice. “You rode past it on the High Road.”

“Is this your doing?”

“It's your vision.”

“Why am I having it?”

“Coyote sends it,” Squirrel said.

Nothing seemed to be happening. Just the stone forest, and something white at the edge of her vision. After a while she went to sleep.

 

There was a gorgeous red sunset when they came out of the sweatbath. “Even the skies put on a show for you,” Squirrel said.

Tower laughed nervously.

Squirrel hurried her along the harbor street to the Black Stone Inn. Black Stone himself stood in the doorway. “Exactly on time,” he said. His grin was infectious. “Your Lord awaits you inside.”

Black Stone led them through the main hall of the restaurant. Half the city officials had gathered there. “They hope to hear your tales of Aztlan,” Black Stone said.

“But—”

He grinned. “They can wait.” He showed Tower and Squirrel into a narrow hall. At the end of the hall was a closed door. Squirrel opened the door and pushed Tower inside. The door closed behind her.

Sandry was there. He had taken off his armor and was dressed in new clothes that didn't fit him very well. Tower thought he had never been so handsome. He stood and opened his arms.

After a while she became aware that she was hungry. A table was set for two, and everything smelled wonderful. Food and wine.

“We're alone?” she said.

“Alone, and there's another way out.”

“But the mayor and all his court will want to speak with us. They said so!”

“And they will,” Sandry said. “Tomorrow. There is a feast, and we'll have to go to it, but it's in the afternoon. We have the night to ourselves, and we can sleep as late as we want in the morning.”

“Oh.”

“Aren't you hungry?”

“I thought I was a minute ago.” She fingered the charm box in its leather pouch at her belt. The air in the small dining room seemed heavy.
I don't need this,
she thought.

“I guess I should eat.” She sat at the table. Sandry hesitated, then sat across from her.

Bison steaks. Vegetables, including some she didn't recognize. Honey cakes.

“Plain fare,” Sandry said. “They're still recovering from the siege. This may be the best meal anyone is having in Crescent City tonight.”

“Oh.” She smiled. “I thought I was hungry. Now I'm not so sure.”

“There will be wine and honey cakes in the room,” Sandry said.

She ate another bite of the steak. “Are we really alone?”

“Reggy will stay at the salt farm tonight. We'll see him tomorrow.”

She cut off another bite and chewed mechanically.
He's as nervous as I am!
she thought.
Sandry! Lord Sandry, warrior, king of Aztlan!
That made her feel better.

“Only once have you been more beautiful,” Sandry said.

“That was a wonderful gown.”

“Actually, I was remembering you in your costume, on the high wire, the first time I ever saw you,” Sandry said.

“That's sweet.” She stood abruptly. “Is that the door?”

 

Tower jerked awake with a water stampede roaring darkly through her mind.

It was nearly dawn. Sandry lay sprawled in exhaustion across the bed. Burning Tower rose, careful not to wake him. She pulled on a robe against the chill of the morning and went out to the balcony.

A thick fog rolled in from the sea, so thick she could not see the street below. As she stared into the fog, shapes appeared.

The stone forest. A flash of white. It came closer. Spike, running free in the stone forest. The bonehead looked at her and tossed his head, the great horn lifted high.

Tower thought she heard a soft nicker, not of rage or hatred. Perhaps wistful.

“I love you,” she whispered to the beast.

Sandry stirred, and Tower looked back at her sleeping husband, then at the vision ahead. “I love you, but I won't miss you at all.” She turned away from the vision.