The Standing Dead - Stone Dance of the Chameleon 02 (31 page)

Ravan scowled at his mother, but did as he was told.

Carnelian had to pass several bowls to Ravan before he could keep one himself. The earthenware held some kind of stew with what appeared to be dumplings floating in it. He felt a handle being pushed into his hand and, looking up, saw a little girl was offering him a spoon. Thinner than the other children, she did not seem to share their fascination in the stranger.

Thank you,' he said, quietly.

The girl looked up at him through her lashes. There was a shadow of grief around her eyes. When he smiled at her, she looked away and moved on down the line distributing more spoons. Carnelian leaned close to Fern. 'I don't remember being introduced to her.'

Fern raised his eyebrows as he watched her. 'I've no idea who she is.'

'Fernie.' It was his wife, Sil, sitting across from them. Twostone,' she mouthed, slid her gaze over Carnelian's face and, balancing her baby, began to eat.

Carnelian dug his spoon into the bowl and scooped up a dumpling with some gravy. He put it in his mouth. Chewed it.

He nudged Fern. This is good.'

'I'm glad you think so,' said Fern. 'It's what we eat almost every night.'

Carnelian
concentrated on the stew, trying to work through his earlier upset. Fern had a wife and child and that was it. Osidian had been right: he did have feelings for Fern. He would suppress them and they would fade.

Scraping the last spoonful, he looked up to find Sil staring at him. She turned her focus on the baby on her lap.
Carnelian
decided Sil was rather pretty. He watched her chew food to the front of her mouth, then stoop to transfer it into her baby's mouth. It seemed something an animal might do, but then he remembered that he had done the same for Osidian.

All around the hearth, people were discussing him. He tried to distract himself by listening to them but could only pick out a few words and even that grew tiring.
Fern
was giving all his attention to his bowl though Carnelian could see it was empty. His friend looked sad. Carnelian realized he had been so busy trying to adapt to his new world he had forgotten about Fern's punishment. Carnelian wanted to know what he had meant by labouring as a woman. Fern's look of dejection did not bode well.

Whin's voice carried across the chatter. 'Skai, fetch me Carnie's bowl. If his appetite is in keeping with his size, I'm sure he could do with some more.'

'Whin,' said Akaisha, a note of warning in her voice.

Carnelian
lifted h
is gaze and found that, defying
Akaisha, Whin was regarding him coldly. Without taking her eyes off him, she nudged a boy standing beside her. 'Do as you're told.'

As the boy came towards him Carnelian tried to decipher the expression on Whin's face. She seemed to be waiting for something to happen.

Skai, who was about eight, was the second boy Carnelian had seen before with Whin. The boy stood in front of him, looking at the ground, his hands extended for Carnelian's bowl. Carnelian could not avoid seeing the glyphs tattooed on the boy's right hand. 'Kumatuya Seve
nteen', he read, knowing instantl
y the boy had been selected for the following year's flesh tithe.

Carnelian raised his eyes. Whin was wearing an expression somewhere between triumph and anger. Everyone else was motionless, staring at him.

Fern snatched the bowl from Carnelian's hands and thrust it at the boy. 'Do as your grandmother told you.'

Carnelian was startled by his friend's anger. When the boy returned with the bowl refilled, Carnelian thanked him and began eating, even though he had lost his appetite. The eyes looking at him were loaded with reproach. He could see their pain at knowing they were going to lose Skai. Carnelian stared down, stirring the meat and dumplings in their gravy. How did the boy cope, knowing he would be taken from his kin for ever? He thought about the people of his household who had been taken from the Earthsky. In Osrakum, the marked boy might very well be chosen to serve House Suth.

'Don't show your feelings,' said Fern in Vulgate.

Carnelian looked up.

Fern's expression was severe. 'Guilty looks will only stir up the Tribe's lust for retribution.' 'I regret -'

'You might as well regret the rising of the sun.' Carnelian followed his friend's gaze to the baby cradled in Sil's arms. Fern became aware Carnelian was looking at his child.

'Leaf was born after the last visit of the Gatherer. Next year, when he comes again, she'll have to be put forward with the other children. If we lose her, we lose her.'

Carnelian could hear the bitterness in Fern's voice but could think of no way to soothe him. He watched Sil kiss-feeding her baby.

'You want to hold her?'

Carnelian turned to find Fern glaring at him.

'Well... if you ...' Carnelian flustered.

Fern jerked to his feet and, putting his hands out, asked for his child. Everyone fell silent. Uncertain, Sil glanced down the line of women to her mother, Whin. This enraged Fern.

'Give me my daughter,' he said in a dangerous tone.

Sil glared up at him, chewing vigorously. Bending, she put her lips to her child's and transferred the food. She wiped the baby's mouth and held her out to Fern, who took her, then offered her to Carnelian. He flared his palms in front of him.

'I'll not take her against her mother's wishes.'

'Hold her,' Fern commanded.

There was no denying the determination in his eyes. As Carnelian took the baby and cradled her, around the hearth there was a catching of breath. Sil protested. Whin said something in anger.

Fern turned on her. 'As much as she's your granddaughter, she's my child.' He pointed at Carnelian. 'He's not like the rest of his kind. Look at the way he holds her. Is that the way you would hold a slave?'

Carnelian felt the little girl warm against his heart and, looking down, became trapped in her brown eyes. He could not help smiling at her.

'Does the way he holds a baby make him less of a danger to the Tribe?' Whin demanded.

This hearth is in their debt,' said Fern. 'Isn't it our tradition to honour our debts?'

That works for Plainsmen, not for the Standing Dead,' said Whin.

'He saved the souls of my husband and my son,' said Akaisha.

It made Carnelian miserable to be the reason for such conflict.

'By sacrilegious means,' said Whin.

'Do you doubt that I will make sure my son makes full recompense for his crime?' asked Akaisha. When Whin did not answer: 'As for the Standing Dead, here I am hearthmother and so I say that they are now as much a part of this hearth as are you.'

Whin looked outraged. 'And how will they earn their keep, my mother? Or does my mother intend we should slave for them as do the children they steal from us?'

Fern glanced at Carnelian holding his baby. They'll do as other men.'

'Work in the ditches with us; hunt?' one of the men said, startled.

'I can vouch for their strength and valour,' said Fern.

'So can I,' said Ravan.

Carnelian had forgotten he was there. He rose, the child safe in the crook of his arm, and reached out to clasp Fern's shoulder with his free hand. 'What's your punishment?'

Fern flushed. 'I'm to work beneath the Bloodwood Tree.'

Carnelian was none the wiser and felt he had only served to embarrass his friend in front of his kin. He made his decision even though he had no idea what he was committing himself to. Then I'll work with you there.'

Ravan leapt to his feet. The Master can't do that.'

'Sit down,' said Fern. 'Can't you see Carnie was only speaking for himself.' He turned to Carnelian. 'I appreciate the offer, but you don't understand. This is the Mother's work; something which men don't do, only women.'

'Nevertheless, I'll join you,' said Carnelian. He went over and gave Sil her baby. She looked from him to her husband, then back again. He sensed she had become aware of the feelings there were between them. Trying to hide his confusion, Carnelian pushed past Ravan, stepped over the rootbench and walked away.

'Carnie.'

Carnelian turned to see Akaisha following him. He watched her approach. Her voice when she spoke was low and conspiratorial.

'If you're determined to work with the women, then tomorrow you should come with me down to the earthworks.'

He smiled. 'Where I can cause you trouble as I did just now?'

'Don't you worry about Whin, she'll come round. The day after tomorrow it will be the turn of our hearth to work under the Bloodwood Tree. Tomorrow, the women there will be under the authority of Ginkga.'

'She voted for my death?'

Akaisha nodded.

'Nevertheless, my mother, I'm determined to share your son's punishment.' 'Why?'

There was anger in Akaisha's voice. Carnelian stooped and took her hand. 'I'm at least as responsible for Fern's sacrilege as he is himself and owe him many debts of gratitude. How could I let him suffer the punishment alone?'

'Is that all it is?'

Carnelian was glad the twilight hid his embarrassment. Take care where your emotions will lead you.' She gave his hand a squeeze and then returned to her hearth.

* * *

The twilight was thicker under the branches than it had been at the hearth, so that Carnelian had to take care picking his way across the root-ribbed hillside. He could just make out Osidian in their sleeping hollow, his face and hands like patches of moonlight.

The sky here is very deep,' a voice said.

'Are you not hungry?'

'Only to wake from this nightmare.'

Carnelian slipped into the hollow and stretched himself out beside Osidian.

'We can live here,' he asserted.

'I do not believe I can.'

Stars were coming alive in the darkening sky.

'We will have to work with them.'

'A Master shall not be seen to labour,' growled Osidian.

'What will you gain by quoting the Law at me? If we do not work, they will not give us food.'

Then I shall starve.'

Carnelian sat up but found he could not make out Osidian's face. Morning would be a better time for them to talk. He reached for a blanket and shook it open over them. He leaned across Osidian to make sure to cover him. His body seemed carved stone.

Carnelian lay back. Osidian would come round. He had to. Despair began catching at the edges of his mind. A burning vision of Osidian as he had been in Osrakum: a prince among
books,
music,
palaces,
slaves;
all
of
such perfect
beauty;
the
exquisite
distillation
of
millennia.
All wealth.
All
power.
Osidian
was
to
have
been
God.
How could
life
among
rude
barbarians
ever
compare?
There
he lay
beside
him
between
the
roots
of
a
tree.
What
had he
condemned
him
to?

Carnelian
tried
to
find
hope
in
the
stars,
but
they seemed
nothing
but
ice
in
a
bleak
sky.
What
had
he thrown
away
for
the
sake
of
a
love
that
must
surely
die?

Never
again
to
see
his
Ebeny.
Never
to
see
Tain
nor
any other
of
his
brothers;
not
one
of
the
people
he
had
known all
his
life.
For
him,
all
were
now
dead.
His
yearning
for them
was
an
ache,
but
there
was
a
deeper
grief
choking him.
His
father.
The
father
he
had
abandoned
to Ykoriana's
web.