The Standing Dead - Stone Dance of the Chameleon 02 (75 page)

When
they
had
come
close
enough
to
hear
the
voices of
their
enemy,
it
was
Fern
who
stopped
them
turning back.
He
gave
a
battl
e-cry
and
sent
his
aquar
careering in
a
charge.
As
his
voice
rode
away
from
them,
fear
was swept
away
by
shame.
They
would
not
allow
one
of
their own
to
die
alone.
Carnelian
sat
startled
as
he
heard their
shrieks
sweep
by
on
either
side.
With
his
heels,
he held
his
aquar
where
it
was
and
heard
their
voices
thin as
they
sped
away.
He
was
almost
unmanned
imagining the
mayhem
lying
there
waiting
for
him.
Fern's
battl
e-cry
sounded
again
and,
cursing,
Carnelian
coaxed
his beast
to
furious
speed
desperate
to
catch
him
up.

They
huddled
in
the
black
heart
of
the
night.
A
gash ached
in
Carnelian's
forearm.
A
whimpering,
wounded boy
was
trembling
against
his
thigh.
The
darkness
was filled
with
shaky
breathing
and
moaning.
Many
must
have been
wounded.
Some
had
been
lost.
Voices
were
whispering
names
insistentl
y.
Someone
pushed
in
beside
him. 'Carnie?'

'Fern,'
he
replied,
dazed,
glad
to
his
core
to
have
him near.

'Are
you
bleeding?'

Carnelian
fumbled
and
grabbed
his
friend's
trembling arm.
The
solid
feel
of
it
opened
a
way
for
his
voice.
The whirling.'

'It
was
my
first
battl
e
too.'

'It's
like
the
darkest
dream.
I
felt
the
soft
give
of
flesh, the
screaming
...
Oh,
dear
mother,
the
screaming.'

They
crushed
into
each
other.
A
shadow
loomed
beside them.

'It
will
pass,'
said
Galewing
in
a
strange
remote voice.
'It's
always
hard
to
kill
a
man,
even
if
he's
your enemy.'

'Were
we
victorious?'
a
childish
voice
asked
suddenly.

It
was
Galewing
who
answered:
'We
were
routed.
They were
ready
for
us.
They
were
too
many.'

'Even
the
Skyfather
fought
against
us,'
someone
said, his
tone
incredulous,
recalling
the
rain
that
had
flung
its needles
at
their
faces.

'Are
we
safe
now?'
pleaded
a
boy.

Over
Fern's
shoulder
Carnelian
scanned
the
darkness for
their
enemy.

They'll
begin
their
hunt
for
us
with
the
morning
light,' said
Galewing.

'We
must
flee,'
said
Loskai.

'We
can't.'
It
was
Ravan.
Too
many
of
us
are
wounded. We've
lost
too
many
aquar.
Even
if
some
of
us
escaped,
do you
think
they'd
be
enough
to
defend
the
Tribe
against the
revenge
of
the
Bluedancing?
We
must
wait
here
until dawn.'

Groans
were
the
only
answer.

'No,
it's
best
we
wait,'
said
Ravan,
insistently.
'If
we can
get
some
sleep
then
at
least
we
might
be
able
to
sell our
lives
dearly.'

They
might
spare
us,'
said
Crowrane.

'Would
you
beg
them
for
mercy?
Would
we
have
given any
if
our
situations
were
reversed?'

Fern
disengaged
himself
gently
from
Carnelian. They'll
show
mercy,
Ravan.
We're
all
Plainsmen.
No tribe
has
ever
destroyed
another.'

'Go
and
tell
that
to
the
hearthkin
of
those
we
killed
and maimed,'
said
Ravan.
They'll
show
no
mercy.
We
must make
an
end
of
it
here.
At
least
the
sons
and
daughters
of the
Tribe
might
live.
The
Bluedancing
might
adopt
them to
swell
their
strength.
The
most
we
can
do
is
to
make sure
our
people
don't
remember
us
with
shame.'

Sobbing
broke
out
here
and
there.
Carnelian
despaired for
Poppy.
She
had
lost
so
much
already.
At
that
moment something
like
the
moon
came
out
from
the
clouds
and, drifting
towards
them,
resolved
into
a
ghostly
face.

The
Master,'
gasped
several
voices.

Carnelian
saw
it
was
Osidian
who
stood
before
them, personifying
the
darkness.
He
spoke.

'In
my
right
hand
I
hold
defeat:
in
my
left,
victory. Which
will
you
have
me
open?'

As
Ravan
translated
Osidian's
words,
even
through
his relief,
Carnelian
was
overwhelmed
by
a
sickening
foreboding,
for
the
Wise
taught
that
the
left
was
the
hand
of darkness.

THE BLUEDANCING

The most elegant system of domination is one in which the dominated are unaware of t
heir state: they believe the worl
d has always been and always will be as they know it; that the order under which they toil is as immutable, as unassailable as the sky.

War is a clumsy means of enforcing su
ch dominion. Not only is it costl
y and wasteful of resources, but it is difficult to control and subject to catastrophic and unforeseeable changes of fortune.

Famine is a surer tool of statecraft, with the crucial proviso that it must be seen to arise naturally from the land. Hunger will keep not only the body, but the mind in chains.

(from a treatise on statecraft compiled in beadcord by the Wise of the Domain Lands)

At
first
light,
Osidian
led
them
to
the
edge
of
a
lagoon.
He spent
time
surveying
the
ground
and
eventually
settled them
on
a
ridge
on
the
shore.
After
a
brief
conference with
Carnelian,
he
rode
out
across
the
dried-up
bed
with the
better
half
of
the
warband:
he
had
chosen
only
the unwounded
and,
of
those,
predominantly
the
young. Ravan
went
as
interpreter.
Galewing
had
volunteered
to go
to
represent
the
Elders.
Krow
had
chosen
to
stay behind.
That
Osidian
had
not
objected
to
this
made Carnelian
suspicious
that
the
youth
had
been
left
as
a
spy.
Standing
on
the
shore
with
the
rain
flying
in
his
face,