The Burning City (7 page)

There were more
kinds
of food than Whandall had ever seen for one meal. Serana arranged trays of food, eyed them critically, sometimes changed the arrangements. When she was satisfied, the servants came and took the trays out to another room where the adults ate. It was like… the gardens here, and the neat little fence around the Black Pit… it was
orderly
. Serana was making
patterns
with her cooking.

Whandall couldn't take his eyes off the stove.

Once during dinner a tall woman with serious eyes and dark clothing looked into the kitchen. She nodded in satisfaction when she saw Shanda. “Did you study your lessons?” she demanded.

“Yes, ma'am,” Shanda said.

She fixed Whandall with a critical eye. “Neighbor boy?” she asked.

“From down the road,” Shanda said quickly.

“You behave yourself,” the woman said. She turned to the cook. “Did she get a good dinner?”

“I always make a good dinner for Miss Shanda, even when I've got guests to cook for,” Serana said huffily. “Don't you worry about that.”

“All right. Good night.”

After she left, Shanda giggled. “Miss Batty's not happy,” she said. “She wants to eat with the family, but they didn't invite her tonight.”

“That's as it may be,” Serana said. “Miss Bertrana's all right. Not like that other nurse you had. You be nice to her.”

Miss Batty was kinless. Whandall was certain of it. He wasn't quite as certain that Serana was Lordkin. And neither seemed to care much.

A servant came carrying a tray of dirty dishes. Some were piled high with uneaten food.

After dinner they went back to the balcony. The adults came out to the atrium to finish their own dinner. Whandall and Shanda lay on the balcony outside her room and listened to them.

The courtyard was lit by a central fire and by candles in vellum cylinders. There were four men and three women in the courtyard. Lazy wisps of steam curled up from the cups they were holding. One of the men said, “I thought that wizard was coming to dinner.”

“He was invited, Qirinty. I don't know what happened to him.”

“Stood you up, did he, Samorty?”

Samorty had a deep and resonant voice, and his chuckle was loud. “Maybe. I'd be surprised, but maybe.”

When Placehold men talked in the evenings, there were usually fights. These men smiled, and if anyone was angry, it was well hidden. Whandall came to believe that he was watching a dance. They were dancing with the rhythm of speech and gestures.

It was a thing he could learn. A Lordkin should have guile.

Qirinty's voice was feeble; Whandall had to listen hard. “We need a wizard. The reservoir's getting low again. If it doesn't rain pretty soon we could be in trouble, Samorty.”

Samorty nodded sagely. “What do you propose we do?”

“It's more your problem than mine, Samorty,” the other man said. He picked up two cups, interchanged them, tossed them lightly in the air. The cups were chasing each other in a loop, and now he'd added a third cup.

“Lord Qirinty has such wonderful hands!” Shanda said.

It enchanted Whandall that Shanda already knew how to lurk. He asked, “Are those Lords?”

Shanda giggled. “Yes. The big man there at the end is Lord Samorty. He's my stepfather.”

“Is that your mother with him?”

“Rawanda's not my mother! Stepmother,” Shanda said. “My mother's dead too. She died when Rabblie was born.”

“Rabblie?”

“My little brother. There. With her. He's five. She doesn't like him any more than she likes me, but he gets to eat with them because he's the heir. If she ever has a boy, he's dead meat, but I don't think she can have children. She had one, my sister, and that took a week. It was almost two years ago—”

Whandall tapped her arm to shut her up, because Lord Samorty was talking: “… Wizard. Can he do it again?”

“Would you want him to?” one of the others asked. “The iceberg damn near wiped out the city!”

The women shouted with laughter. The man with the clever hands said, “It did not, Chanthor! It crossed
your
farm.”

Samorty chuckled. “Well, and mine too, and left nothing but a plowed line three hundred paces wide and longer than any man has traveled. That cost me, I admit, but it didn't cross much of the city, and it sure solved the water problem.”

Chanthor snorted.

Qirinty snatched his cup and added it to the dance.

Samorty said, “A mountain of ice from the farthest end of the Earth. Don't you sometimes wish you could do that?”

“That, or
any
real magic. But he said he could do it only once,” Lord Qirinty said.

“He said that after we paid him. Did you believe him? I'd say he wants a better price.”

Qirinty set the cups down without spilling a drop. “I don't know if I believed him or not.”

One of the servants came in. “Morth of Atlantis,” he announced.

Morth?
Whandall knew that name…

He stood tall and straight, but Morth was older than any of the Lords, fragile and perhaps blind. His face was all wrinkles; his hair was long and straight and thick but pure white. He tottered very carefully into the circle of firelight. “My Lords,” he said formally. “You will have to forgive me. It has been twenty years since I was last here.”

“I would think Lordshills is easy enough to find,” Samorty said. “Even if you had never been here before.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Morth said. “To find, yes. To get to, perhaps not so easy for one in my profession. I came by the back roads. The ponies I hired could not climb your hill, and as I walked up, this change came on me. But you must know all this.”

“Perhaps we know less than you think. A dozen years ago a Condigeano wizard offered us a spell that would let cook fires burn indoors,” Samorty said. “Cheap too. He didn't have to cast it himself. Sent an apprentice up to do it. It worked, but since then the only horses that can get up the hill are our big ones. The Lordkin ponies can't make it. We don't know why.”

Morth nodded. He was amused without making a point of it. “But surely this—spell—has not lasted a dozen years?”

“No, he sends an apprentice to renew it. He's done that twice since. We've discussed having him cast it for other areas, but we decided not to.”

“Oh, good,” Morth said. “Very wise. May I be seated?”

“Yes, yes, of course. Dinner's finished, but would you like tea and dessert?” Samorty's wife said.

“Thank you, yes, my lady.”

Rawanda waved to a servant as Morth sat with an effort.

The fourth Lord was older than the rest. The others had come out with women, but he reclined alone on his couch. The servants treated him with as much respect as they treated Samorty. He had been quiet, but now he spoke. “Tell us, Sage, why is it wise not to cast this spell in the other parts of the city? Why not in Tep's Town?”

“Side effects,” Qirinty said. “The Lordkin need their ponies.”

“Yes, that and the fires, Lord Jerreff,” Morth said. His voice had changed slightly. There was less quaver.

“Could you cast such a spell if we asked you to?”

Morth cut off a laugh. “No, Lord. No wizard could do that. Only apprentices cast
that
spell, and I'll wager that it's never the same apprentice twice, either.”

“You'd win that wager,” Samorty said. “Is this spell dangerous?”

“Confined to a small area, no,” Morth said. “Cast throughout Tep's Town? I am certain you would regret it.”

“Fires,” Lord Jerreff said. “There would be fires inside houses, anytime, not just during a Burning. That's what our Condigeano wizard told us. He wouldn't tell us what the spell was. Just that it would keep Yangin-Atep at a distance. Sage, I don't suppose you will tell us either?”

Morth solemnly shook his head. “No, Lord, I cannot.”

“But you do know what the spell is.”

“Yes, Lord, I know,” Morth said. “And frankly I am concerned that a hedge wizard from Condigeo would know about—about that spell. I am also surprised that you would employ powerful magic you do not understand.”

“Oh, we know what it does,” Qirinty said. “It uses up the power in magic, the manna. Gods can't live where there's no manna.”

“I didn't know that,” Lord Chanthor said. “Did you know, Samorty?”

Lord Samorty shook his head. “All I bargained for was a way to let the cooks work inside. Does that mean the fountains aren't magic?”

“Just good plumbing, Samorty,” Lord Qirinty said. “But there is magic in running water—I suppose that's why our Sage looks better now. He found some manna in the fountains.”

“Astute, Lord. But very little, I fear.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “I do not believe you need pay to renew the spell this year.”

“Is that why the wizards can't bring rain?” Samorty demanded. “No manna?”

“Yes,” Morth said. “The manna is dying all over the world, but especially here in Tep's Town. The void you have created here isn't helping.”

“Where can we find more manna?” Chanthor asked.

“The water comes from the mountains,” Qirinty said. “Look there, if we can find the way.”

“There are maps,” Chanthor said. “I recall my father telling me of an expedition to the mountains. They brought back manna—”

“Gold. Wild manna. Unpredictable,” Samorty said. “Some of the effects were damned odd.”

“Yes, Samorty, and anyway, they got all they could find,” Chanthor said. “We wouldn't do better. But there was water. Can we get water from the mountains?”

“We
can't. Maybe nobody can.”

“We did once.”

“Yes, Jerreff, and long ago the kinless were warriors,” Chanthor said.

“Do you believe that?” Samorty asked.

“Oh, it's true,” Jerreff said.

“My Lords, we are neglecting our guest,” Samorty said. He turned to Morth. The wizard was quietly sipping tea. He looked less ill than when he had come to the table.

“Sage, if we don't have water, there'll be a Burning, sure as anything. How can we stop it?” Qirinty asked. “Can you bring more water?”

Morth shook his head. He spoke solemnly. “No, my Lords. There is not enough manna to bring rain. As for the gold in the mountains, you don't want it.”

“Isn't it magic?”

“Wild magic. I've heard some very funny stories about gold's effect on men and magicians, but in any case, I would not survive the rigors of the trip.”

“There are other mountains,” Jerreff said. “The Barbar Mountains remain. Too far to go by land, but we could take ship.”

Morth smiled thinly. “I fear I must decline that as well,” he said.

“The ice. Can you bring more ice?” Qirinty demanded. “We will pay well. Very well, won't we, Samorty?”

“We would pay to have the reservoirs filled again, yes,” Samorty said. “You would not find us ungenerous.”

“Alas, as I told you then, I could do that only once. Loan me a charioteer and I could fill your reservoirs, but I do not believe you would care for salt water.”

“Salt water?” Samorty demanded. “What would we want with reservoirs full of salt water?”

“I can't imagine,” Morth said. “But it is the only kind I control just at the moment.” His smile was thin and there was a tiny edge to his voice. “It would be difficult but not impossible to drown the city and even parts of the Lordshills, but the water would be sea water.”

“Are you threatening to do that?” Samorty demanded.

“Oh no, Lord. I have worked for many years to prevent that,” Morth said. Mother's Mother's humor sometimes matched this old man's: they laughed at things nobody else understood. “But do not be deceived, it could happen. For example, if you were to use in Tep's Town the spell that that idiot Condigeano used here, you might well find the sea walking across the city. May I have some more tea?”

“Certainly, but it is a long way back, Sage, and I perceive you are not
comfortable here,” Samorty said. “With your permission I will arrange transportation with our horses, and an escort of guards.”

“Your generosity is appreciated,” Morth said.

Morth
. “He's too old,” Whandall murmured.

The girl asked, “Too old for what?”

“He's not who I thought.”
Too old to be the Morth who killed my father and put my uncle to flight
. But wasn't that also Morth of drowned Atlantis? Mother's Mother had told another tale. “The wizard who wouldn't bless a ship?”

“Yes, that's him,” Shanda said.

Samorty clapped his hands for a servant. “Have the cooks prepare a traveler's meal for the wizard. We will need a team and wagon from the stables, and two guardsmen to accompany Morth of Atlantis to the city.”

“At once, Lord,” the servant said.

“He will see to your needs, Sage,” Samorty said. “It has been our honor.”

“My thanks, Lords.” Morth followed the servant out. He leaned heavily on his staff as he walked. They watched in silence until he was gone.

This powerless wizard couldn't be the Morth who had killed Pothefit. Was it a common name in Atlantis?

“Well, he wasn't any use,” Chanthor said.

“Perhaps. I want to think about what he
didn't
say,” Jerreff said.

“What I learned is that he can't get us any water. So what do we do now?” Samorty demanded.

“The usual. Give out more. Increase the Mother's Day presents,” Chanthor said.

Whandall's ears twitched. More Mother's Day presents was good news for the Placehold, for Serpent's Walk, for everyone! But Lord Qirinty said, “The warehouses are getting empty. We need rain!”

“There's a ship due with some sea dragon bones,” Chanthor said. “Magic to make rain, if Morth is as good as he says he is.”