Burning Tower by Larry Niven

her carefully. She was chattering, just as he had been, but about what? His mind caught up. “You mean the hemp.”
    â€œYes, the hemp.”
    Hemp was harmless in Tep’s Town. But the magic was leaking back into Tep’s Town, with blown dust from other lands, and wild hemp tried to strangle people. Sandry’s folk would need years to get used to a world where everything was like the chaparral, potentially sentient and malevolent….
    Tea and cakes arrived.
    â€œYou said you have one in a cage,” she said.
    â€œOne—oh, you mean the terror bird we captured.”
    â€œYes! I’ve never seen one that wasn’t trying to kill me. May I see it?”
    â€œIt will be halfway to Lordshills by now,” Sandry said. “Lord Quintana sent for it as soon as he heard we had it. He wants our wizards to examine it.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œBut you can see it tomorrow before dinner.”
    â€œOh, good. And Twisted Cloud too.”
    Sandry nodded. Of course it wasn’t likely that a Hemp Road shaman would learn anything not obvious to a professional wizard. “I’ll arrange it, and I’ll make sure the wagons are here early for you tomorrow.”
    â€œGood. I want to see where you live.”
    Burning Tower nibbled a cake, finished her tea, made her excuses, and went. A young kinless stepped out of her way; she smiled at him. No sense of rank. Sandry grinned.
    And now he was left with enough bean cakes for two. He brushed one off and ate it in two bites, wolfishly hungry.
    The kinless kid seemed frozen, staring at him. Sandry looked back…kinless? “You’re with the caravan,” he said.
    The boy started to speak, stopped, then said, “Yes, Lord. We have met before.”
    Last year, then. But the boy didn’t seem familiar at all. “Join me. Have a cake. I’m sorry—I don’t seem to remember you.”
    The boy grinned. “Few do. My name is Nothing Was Seen. They call me Lurk.” The boy sat. He brushed ants off a cake and ate it.
    â€œI remember now. You were poisoned by the chaparral, and that Atlantean Morth had me chasing antidotes. But you look different now. Hah, that’s a good act. It’s not just the right clothes—you act right. What were you staring at?”
    â€œAnts, Lord.”
    Well, they were a nuisance. “Don’t you have ants on the Hemp Road?”
    â€œNot to be seen.” The boy actually shuddered.
    â€œThen why didn’t Burning Tower…” Good manners. She just picked up that cake and ate it. The lady had excellent manners and nerves of pure copper.
    Lurk said, “Lord, I think Twisted Cloud could help.”
    â€œWith ants?”
    â€œYes, Lord.”
    Practicing, Sandry thought. Practicing the elaborate deference the kinless used. Why would he want to learn how to be kinless? But he certainly couldn’t pass for Lordkin!
    â€œI will find her, Lord. She will not charge much. Have the innkeeper find honey and parchment.”

Chapter Eight
The Caged Bird
    H e hadn’t begun preparations for his dinner party when Roni came into the kitchen from the back garden.
    â€œHi,” Sandry called. “No time. Unless you want to help—”
    She grinned slyly. “Want me to play hostess?”
    â€œTep’s Teeth! No!”
    She giggled. “Your face. Sandry, I’d love to help—it would be good practice—but you don’t have to worry about dinner.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œMother says she will be pleased to have you and your guests to dinner tonight.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œThe Lord Chief Witness has asked her to be hostess,” Roni said. “So it’s a big deal, and you don’t have any choice.”
    Not that I would, given that it’s Aunt Shanda. “Tell Lord Chief Witness Quintana there will be four,” Sandry said. “The Wagonmaster, whose name is Green Stone, his sister