Free The Burning City by Jerry Pournelle

they’d used them on Bull Pizzle boys. No one died, but a dozen of them were useless for a week, and Pelzed and the Bull Pizzle Lord had made a treaty not to do that again. Pelzed had been pleased. But here it was just a little red rash. Plants lost power here.
    â€œLet’s get something to eat,” Shanda was saying. “Serana doesn’t think I eat enough. She’ll be glad to see you.”
    The kitchen was warm and dry and smelled of foods Whandall could only guess at. Serana filled his bowl with soup and heaped bread on the table, then apologized for not having anything for him. “Will you be staying for dinner?”
    â€œIf that’s all right,” Whandall said. “Ma’am. This sure is good.”
    Serana smiled happily.
    They watched the gardeners, but they avoided everyone else. Shanda showed him the carp pools, with bright colored fish. A pair of servants got too curious, and Whandall was frantically trying to find answers when Shanda laughed and ran away with Whandall following. She led him to another part of the yard.
    There was a small, queer house, too small for Shanda and way too small for Whandall. There were rooms no bigger than a big man, and tiny passages they could crawl through, and open walls. The curious servants had followed. Whandall had to wriggle like an earthworm, but he followed Shanda deeper into the maze, into twists and shadows, until no eyes could reach them.
    He felt a moment of panic then. If this place should burn! They’d be trapped, wriggling through flaming twists. But the gardeners were all kinless, weren’t they? And he wouldn’t show the little girl his fear. He followed Shanda deeper yet.
    There was a small room at the center, just big enough for both of them to sit up.
    â€œWhy is it so small?” Whandall asked.
    â€œIt’s a playhouse. It was built for my little brother, but he doesn’t like it much, so I get to play in it.”
    A playhouse. Whandall could understand the notion, but he would never have thought of it. An entire extra house, just for fun!

    After dinner they lay on the balcony above the courtyard and listened to the Lords talk.
    Four men and three women lolled on couches that would have looked really nice in the Placehold courtyard. No one said anything until an elderly kinless brought out a tray of steaming cups. Lady Rawanda passed them to the others.
    Qirinty’s wife sipped, then smiled. “Really, Rawanda, you must tell us where you get such excellent tea root.”
    â€œThank you, Cliella. It is good, isn’t it?” Rawanda said. There was another silence.
    â€œQuiet lately,” Jerreff said. “I don’t like it.”
    â€œThen you should be pleased,” Samorty said. “We caught a sneaker last night.”
    â€œAny problems?” Jerreff asked.
    â€œNo, there was a Jollmic ship in port. We got a nice burning glass for him. Quintana, isn’t it your watch tonight?”
    â€œI traded.”
    â€œTraded with who?”
    â€œWell, actually—”
    â€œHe paid Peacevoice Waterman extra,” Qirinty said. He produced a grapefruit from thin air and inspected it.
    Samorty shook his head sadly. “Bad practice,” he said.
    Quintana laughed. He was round and pudgy and looked very contented on his couch. “What can it hurt? Samorty, you may like parading around all night in armor, but I don’t! If there’s need, I’ll turn out—”
    â€œIf there’s need, the watchmen will be taking orders from Waterman, not you,” Samorty said.
    â€œNot to mention that Waterman will get any loot they find,” Jerreff said dryly.
    â€œYou worry too much, Samorty,” Rawanda said. “You think the city will fall if you don’t hold it up—”
    Samorty laughed thinly. “It fell once. To us! But peace. It won’t fall tonight. More wine?” He poured from a pitcher on the table.
    Shanda stirred and