Burning Tower Read Free

Sandry’s Firemen. Another band ran into a house and began carrying out goods. “I am possessed of Yangin-Atep!” one shouted. The others laughed. And more came out of the smoke. Some carried clubs. No knives were drawn yet, but any moment now…
    This was the pity of it: Lordkin fighting a fire made a fine target for a rival band. There had never been anything stronger than truce between Serpent’s Walk and Bull Pizzle, and usually there wasn’t even that much peace. What would Wanshig do? Sandry raised a hand and waved, but nothing else. Wait for Wanshig…. Wanshig was the proud leader of Serpent’s Walk—Lord of Serpent’s Walk in Lordkin parlance when the Lords weren’t listening. He would accept help, but he’d never ask for it, and if help was offered when it wasn’t needed, there could be trouble. Sandry hadn’t been aware of all this when he took the assignment to build a Fire Brigade, but he’d learned.
    And Wanshig was special. Wanshig was Burning Tower’s uncle.
    Burning Tower! He hadn’t seen her in nearly a year, and still the memory was exciting. Long red-brown hair, deep brown eyes, slim legs dancing on a tightrope, perfect bare feet on the taut hemp line. She wasn’t like any of the girls in Lordshills, not like any girl he’d ever known. And she would be coming back soon…. He shook his head. No time for this.
    Wanshig threw his bucket and had his weapon in hand and was screaming warning as he leaped. A Pizzle ducked the bucket but not Wanshig’s knife. Did Wanshig actually need help?
    But when he counted thirty more Pizzles, Sandry knew this was a major raid, not just a group of Lordkin pretending this was a Burning, even though some carried torches and shouted of their possession by the fire god. The new chief of Bull Pizzle had to prove himself. This would be the way he did it.
    Sandry frowned at the empty leather bow case on his chariot. He hadn’t really expected to fight. There were two throwing spears in their larger quiver. Have to do, he thought. He raised both hands high in signal, then shouted: “The Fire Brigade is under the protection of the Lord’s Witnesses! All not part of the Fire Brigade are ordered to leave this area immediately. This I command. I am Lord Sandry acting under the authority of Lord Chief Witness Quintana and the Lords of this city! Leave now or you will be killed.”
    Some of the Pizzles looked up, astonished, and a few turned to run. A dozen others, all shouting to Yangin-Atep, came on, throwing rocks and screaming challenges, and ten more moved into another house to gather.
    â€œPeacevoice Tatters! Forward the guards!” Sandry commanded.
    â€œAye, My Lord!” The shout came from upwind. There was the clatter of hooves. Five chariots riding abreast came out of the smoke and fog. “Stand ready to throw! Throw!”
    Spears arced from the chariots. They weren’t throwing to kill, not yet, but two of the raiders went down. The others scattered.
    Armored Lordsmen came from the shadows. Sandry smiled to himself. If those idiot Pizzles had thought to look, they’d have seen where Sandry kept his troopers, and they could have raided elsewhere. But would they? Or was there some crazy point of honor involved? Sandry didn’t know. He knew more of the ways of the Lordkin than most Lords, but they were still a mystery. No one really understood the Lordkin.
    The shouts of “Yangin-Atep” and “I am possessed!” quieted as the Pizzles realized they were trapped and defeated. For a moment Sandry thought of his options. If he killed them all, there would be trouble. Bull Pizzle wasn’t as powerful as it used to be, but it was still large and powerful enough to challenge Serpent’s Walk. A real war between Pizzles and Snakefeet would harm everyone. Most of his Fire Brigade would quit to go fight, and many of them would be killed, and he’d