Burning Tower by Larry Niven Page B

looked gray. I was worried about him.”
    â€œHe’s all right,” Sandry said. “I gave him the day off and ordered him to take it. Thank you for asking. The bird is here, behind the guard barracks.”
    He led them to a stone house with a barred window in a strong door. A face looked out, then there were the sounds of bolts being withdrawn. They passed into a stone guardroom with four guards all in armor and all alert. There was a boy, perhaps twelve, seated in one corner. He had a waxed tablet board and an iron pen, and unlike the guards, he didn’t stand when Lord Sandry came in.
    Sandry recognized the guards, four from Fullerman’s detail, survivors of yesterday’s battle in Peacegiven Square. He acknowledged their courtesies with a wave. “Carry on, lads. Good work yesterday.”
    â€œThank you, Lord,” the oldest guard said.
    An iron barred cage on wheels stood against one wall.
    â€œCold iron,” Green Stone said. “Good. Magic won’t get them out of that! How’d you happen to have that cage?”
    Sandry shrugged. “Henry?”
    The oldest guard said, “I think we have always had that Lordkin cage, Lord Sandry. Don’t use it much.”
    The caged bird was huddled like a brooding hen. The feathers didn’t seem so bright, but that might have been the light. Guard Henry asked, “Wagonmaster, you’ve fought these too, haven’t you?”
    â€œAll year, and yesterday,” Green Stone said.
    â€œHope we don’t see too many of them,” Henry said. “We lost some good men yesterday.”
    â€œAgreed,” Green Stone said.
    Twisted Cloud stood close to the cage, peering in. “Too close,” Green Stone said sharply.
    â€œMind your own business, child. This is mine,” she said.
    Guard Henry asked, “Is it magical?”
    The shaman frowned. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But nothing I can detect, anyway. How long do I have, Lord Sandry?”
    Sandry said, “I’ve allowed plenty of time. Dinner is after lamplighting.”
    The shaman sat on the ground and stared at the bird, her eyes gradually closing, first to slits, then all the way. Finally she stood. “Nothing. Maybe the wizards know something.”
    â€œWe’ll find out tonight.” Sandry turned to the boy. “You know anything, Wale?”
    The boy grinned slightly. “My Lord, I—”
    â€œYes, I know—you report only to your master. Well, carry on.”
    â€œWho was he?” Burning Tower asked when they were outside.
    â€œApprentice to the Sage Egmatel,” Sandry said. “Don’t you have apprentices, Twisted Cloud?”
    â€œOur craft runs mostly in families. My daughter was my apprentice. Now I learn from her. We may as well go to your house, Lord Sandry. I can’t learn any more here.”
    Â 
    Burning Tower walked beside Sandry as he led them into the City of Lordshills. She kept glancing at him. He was much taller than she and carried himself so that he seemed even taller. Long brown hair combed neatly back. Plain kilt of good cloth, plain jacket, a gold brooch. One gold ring. Nothing elaborate, everything quietly expensive. His eyes seemed to miss nothing, and he looked at her often.
    â€œIt’s not far,” he said.
    She looked around eagerly, not trying to hide her interest. So this was how the Lords lived! Like the great merchant princes at Road’s End, or the Captains of Condigeo. Those were the only palaces she had ever seen, although she’d heard of others farther along the Golden Road, at the Great Bay in the northwest, and in the burning hills far to the south of Condigeo.
    But I’ve never been to those places, she thought. I’ve seen Condigeo only in sand paintings. And this is wonderful enough. She was aware that others envied her home, New Castle, which Whandall Feathersnake had built not far from Road’s End, but it was