Burning Tower by Larry Niven Page B

were amused. Burning Tower noted that Lady Shanda was not amused at all. Guests had criticized her hospitality for, of all things, ants!
    She’d given some kind of signal. Now servants took away the honey cakes and other delicacies, then brought a cauldron of beef and vegetables cooked with corn. A silence fell while they wandered among the guests, serving them. Caravan folk carried their own bowls, but Shanda’s servants were offering fine, fragile ceramic. The meat dish was unfamiliar, touched with spices Burning Tower couldn’t identify. Caravan cooking would have been different: less bland.
    Hunger appeased, the guests relaxed and sipped a wine Green Stone would have sold cheap. Lord Quintana said, “I have not had a chance to visit the market myself. Green Stone, do you carry carpets? And those little bottles?”
    â€œOh, yes. Here, I brought these. I hope they please you.” He distributed them among those present: tiny bottles of glass blackened by cold iron, the side effects of Morth’s year-old war. “They sold well last year.”
    â€œAnd you have an interest in horses?”
    â€œIf the price is right.”
    â€œHorses are expensive,” Quintana said. A bit defensively he added, “Ask around; you’ll find it’s true.”
    â€œPity.” Green Stone’s face gave nothing away.
    Burning Tower suddenly noticed that Lurk was gone. She tried to catch Green Stone’s eye, gestured with her nose at his empty place, and got a grin. Then Quintana asked, “Wagonmaster, how did you find the Gate facilities at the Deerpiss?”
    Green Stone said, “Much changed,” and laughed aloud.
    The corners of Quintana’s mouth twitched upward; they were both remembering the battle with the Toronexti, the Lordkin tax collectors Waterman had replaced. Now he asked, “Have you dealt with the Captains at Condigeo?”
    Hesitation. “My brother has. He’ll be in conference with them now.”
    â€œThe Council of Captains rules Condigeo. They rule the trade routes too, of course; it’s their major interest. They still control whatever reaches Tep’s Town by ship. Before the caravan came here through the firewoods, they owned us. Now they don’t, quite. I’m very serious when I ask you: Do you have any complaints whatever about what you found at the Gate? You’re Waterman’s first real test.”
    â€œAh. Well, he took out some birds for us. That counts for a lot. His men were badly battered, not up for much, but they had water and fodder for our beasts. Otherwise, we dealt with Lord Sandry and his men, and they gave us some help at Peacegiven Square.”
    â€œEverything all right there?”
    â€œVery nice. Everything was in place yesterday evening. We’ve had a profitable day, sir.”
    â€œGood! Now, I know everyone around Lordshills who raises or keeps horses. Is there anything else you’d like to find? Anything marketable, I mean.”
    â€œI would like to find those cursed birds gone,” Green Stone said.
    Sandry grunted agreement.
    â€œI don’t want to be misunderstood, Lord,” Green Stone said. “I know how much effort goes into tending boneheads. Bison aren’t much better. Of course horses will be expensive. If you ask too much, we’ll buy something else. Whatever you’re selling, we’ll take it or buy something else and count our costs at the end of the year and make our decisions.
    â€œBut our costs this year include damage done by flocks of terror birds, and four men dead, and a girl. They’ve never come in flocks before. They seem to come from the south and east. We approach Tep’s Town and Condigeo from the north. If the birds are…well, migrating…some of my wagonmasters are thinking of opening new routes further north. We can’t keep losing people to the birds.”
    When Quintana didn’t speak, Lady Shanda said,