The Standing Dead - Stone Dance of the Chameleon 02 (96 page)

As Osidian walked away, Carnelian followed.

'The overthrow of the Elders has been an exercise which the Wise would probably consider trivial. Still, I have never presumed to achieve their level of mastery, though I have gleaned many techniques from their treatises on statecraft.'

Carnelian's mind was fixed on getting Osidian between him and the edge. He spoke hoping to disguise his manoeuvring: The Elders have wisdom of their own.'

'Whatever wisdom the old may have pales before the beauty, the youth and vigour of the young. This fracture is present in all peoples but cuts deeper into the tribes of the Earthsky than most. It was not overly difficult to hammer some wedges in and so cleave the young from the old.'

Carnelian clutched at one last hope to delay the act of murder. 'People? You concede then that they are people? They love each other, their children, as the Chosen do; suffer pain similarly, loss. Even they have pride and beauty and honour.'

Osidian turned fierce eyes on him. 'I have borne this predilection you have for these savages long enough! I cannot understand why you are unable to overcome the deficiencies of your upbringing.'

Anger rose in Carnelian. 'Do you still delude yourself they believe us angels? They have seen we become weary, that we sleep, that we bleed as they do.'

Wrath set Osidian's eyes alight. 'We do not bleed as they do. Forget your blood if you wish, but I will not allow you to forget mine. In my veins, blood runs infused with holy fire.'

Seeing him there unrepentant, Carnelian was about to run at him, not caring that they would tumble together from the Crag when, shocked, Osidian moved away from the edge. 'You would slay me?'

He pulled the uba from his face and stared, gaping. 'I cannot believe...' He motioned Ravan and the others away when they began voicing their alarm.

Osidian's desolation struck at Carnelian's heart. Osidian moved further from the edge, never taking his eyes off Carnelian.

'Have you forgotten when I said to you that my blood ran in your veins?'

Carnelian recalled the night when they had made their vows of love to each other. It was the same night they had been captured in the Yden, just before they were cast into the outer world. He saw the long agony of time that had brought him to this rock where he wished only to see Osidian dead.

Osidian looked close to tears. 'Never once has my love for you wavered.'

Carnelian hardened his heart. 'Do you believe that excuses what you have done?'

He saw Ravan's shadow moving in the corner of his eye.

‘I
tested your love, you know?' said Osidian.

'You mean you baited a trap for me!' Carnelian spat back.

'It was your choice to take the bait.' Carnelian was seeing him through tears. 'What else could I do?'

Osidian shook his head again as if he could not believe what he was hearing.

'What would you have done if I had said nothing to the Elders?'

Osidian shrugged. The truth is, I never for one moment doubted you would betray me.'

Tears were running down both their faces.

‘I
should kill you,' said Osidian.

'You should. I will not cease fighting you.'

Osidian nodded, considering it.

'But you will not kill me,' said Carnelian, wiping his eyes. 'Seeing any Chosen die would diminish your glamour in their eyes.' He indicated Ravan and the others gaping at them.

Osidian looked as vulnerable as a child. That may not always be so.'

They gazed at each other, feeling the depth of what they had lost. Carnelian was the first to speak. 'What now?'

i go to conquer,' Osidian said, his face turning to stone. 'You will remain behind and conduct yourself with due care, my Lord, or else those you seek always to protect will suffer my displeasure.'

Saying this, he broke through Ravan and the other guards and, sweeping across the Crag summit, disappeared down the steps leaving Carnelian impotently to contemplate his failure and his betrayals.

No one at the hearth blamed Carnelian for failing to rid them of the Master, but Sil was not the friend she had been and Whin was colder. Akaisha had grown suddenly old. Bent almost double, she never seemed to leave her place in the root fork by the fire. Gradually, Whin took on more and more of the duties and powers of hearthmother.

Tortured by guilt, Carnelian threw himself into the continuing struggle to cure the heavener meat before it spoiled. Great hunks were smoked until they looked like wood. Fires burning day and night were fed with the magnolias cut down from the margins of the ferngarden. The Killing Field had long been abandoned to the ravens. Drifts of them turned the carcasses into ivory ruins. When, rarely, a breeze would blow from the west, a sickening stench wafted over the djada field. But it was the east wind everyone feared most, for then the hill of offal soaked the air with its miasmas and Carnelian and the Bluedancing would be forced to slave even in the hottest part of the day with their faces swathed in cloth.

The men whom the Master sent to bring them water brought also news. The warriors of the Tribe and their allies the Woading were digging another earthwork, to the north-east, at the crossing of the lagoon nearest to the koppie of the Smallochre. From this earthwork they daily harried them when they came to fetch water. Scuffles had already broken out. It was only a matter of time before the Smallochre would be stung into giving
battl
e.

Carnelian was down in the Eastgarden watching the Bluedancing braid the heavener djada into rope when, pointing, Poppy let out a cry. Smoke was rising from the Crag. Fern and the others returning, thought Carnelian, and began running towards the Blooding. Poppy's shouts pulled him up short. Turning, he saw she was running after him. He returned, scooped her up and ran on.

They found the gate to the Grove unguarded. They met Sil and some others of his hearthmates halfway up the rootstair moving at Akaisha's pace. Anxious as he was to find out if the signal really meant their men were back, Carnelian walked the rest of the way with them. He glanced furtively at Akaisha. He could not bear to see how fragile she had become.

When they reached the clearing before the Ancestor House they found many of the womenfolk gathered there and, near the Crag steps, many of the Elders craning to listen to a woman up on the summit. Her words were passed back.

The Master and Ravan.'

The woman on the summit was shouting something else. Her words came accompanied by a murmur of fear. They're bringing dead.'

People began to move to the opposite side of the clearing where a path led to the Lagooning, but Ginkga climbed the first few steps up the Crag and urged them to wait. Her face hardened when her words were ignored by many. Carnelian decided it would be better if he waited.

At last a massive figure appeared at the edge of the clearing repelling the crowd. It was the Master and, beside him, Ravan. Together they walked through the Elders to the steps and began to ascend them. Behind them came a procession carrying drag-cradles on which lay shrouded bodies. No one could tell who they were because their faces were hidden by ubas. As the crowd moved back to let the drag-cradles be set down, their murmuring began tearing into sounds of grief.

'Why do you mourn when you should be joyous and proud of your noble dead?' said Ravan from the porch of the Ancestor House. Behind him the Master was just a shadow.

'Fern?' said Carnelian beginning to move forward but Sil's hand stayed him. Til go.'

'See here,' cried Ravan and from his hands hung tresses of grey hair loaded with salt beads. This is the tribute the Smallochre pay you as the Woading did before them.' He shook the tresses and they could hear the beads tinkling. This salt and more like it means our men will never again have to go and serve in the legions.' He pointed with his fists at the dead. These heroes died to bring this blessing to the Tribe. Honour them.'

Sil returned pale from the women swarming the dead. She shook her head. 'He's not there.'

Carnelian, Akaisha and Sil shared the relief. A pale movement made Carnelian look up to see Osidian's hand signing.

Come up and talk to me.

Still worrying about Fern, Carnelian began moving towards the steps.

'Where are you going?' asked Akaisha. The Master summoned me.'

Akaisha looked from him up to where Osidian was climbing up to the summit. 'What sorcery could let you know his thoughts?'

'None, my mother.' He lifted his hands meaning to explain, but Sil caught them.

'Find out about Fern.'

Carnelian looked into her eyes and nodded, before he began pushing his way through the mourning crowd.

Ravan was waiting for him at the Ancestor House. He had transferred all the beaded hair to one hand. Carnelian examined it distastefully, almost expecting to see bloody fragments of scalp attached to the roots.

'Where are the rest of the men?'

Ravan smiled. 'You mean my dear brother?'

Carnelian searched the youth's eyes for Fern's death.

'Oh, he lives. The Master left him commanding a joint force of Woading and Ochre in the Woading earthwork.'

Carnelian caught some resentment in the youth's voice. 'Not you?'

Ravan scowled. 'He needs me as his interpreter.'

The youth lifted his empty hand towards the steps leading up to the summit and Carnelian took the lead.

Climbing up onto the summit, Carnelian saw the signal fire was still smoking. Osidian was there with some guards. As Carnelian approached him, the guards put themselves between Osidian and the edge. Carnelian ground his teeth, angry at that reminder of his failed assassination.

'So you have absorbed another tribe into your empire, Osidian.'

The first of many.'

They stood gazing at each other; only their eyes exposed. Carnelian felt Ravan standing behind him.

'How goes the curing of the heavener meat?' Osidian asked.

'Well enough.'

'If the slaves have been worked hard then the process should be nearly complete.' 'It is.'

'Good. I have other work for them.'

Carnelian waited, dreading it already.

They will cut a new ditch to annex more of the plain. The ferngardens must be greatly expanded if I am to pasture the multitude of aquar I intend to gather here.'

Osidian turned and swept his arm round, pointing out an arc as far from the Newditch as the Newditch was from the Grove.

'Surely you don't mean to take this ditch all around the Koppie?' Work on the margin of the Killing Field had taught Carnelian what a vast labour that would be.

Osidian nodded.

'But that would take for ever.'

T have calculated it will take four years if they work without ceasing.'

They are not to accompany us on the migration?'

That would be impractical.' Osidian sketched some gestures in the air.
Aquar, the valley, many impediments...

'How do you expect them to stay here without water? The cistern would not hold nearly enough to give drink to so many mouths.'

'We shall dig new cisterns.'

There's not enough time.'

'You are in error.' He pointed out along
the
Lagooning. 'We shall dig them there where my men can most easily fill them. If we put them close to the path they will be in the shade of the magnolias.'

He looked back at Carnelian. The cisterns will hold enough for the Bluedancing but also for the warriors of the Ochre and the four other tribes I shall rule before the migration.'

Carnelian knew there must be reason behind this madness but he could not see it. The Tribe has to be escorted to the mountains. You must see that.'

'All my tribes will be escorted. Their warriors will take them as far as the mountains and then return here.'

'Why would you want...' He fixed Osidian with a stare. 'You fear that in the mountains their Elders and their women might work them free of your dominion.'

There, you see, you can think like one of the Chosen when you want to.'

Carnelian knew what was to come and raised his hand. 'Please, Osidian, spare me your threats. I will do as you ask.'

Thank you for being so understanding.'

Carnelian controlled his anger. Nothing would be gained at that moment from violence. He would bide his time.

The next day Carnelian began work on the cisterns. He had explained to Sil that the Bluedancing were going to stay in the Koppie during the withering. Once she had overcome her disbelief, then horror, she helped him find women to act as overseers.

By the end of the second day, the first cistern had been cut: a rectangular hole in the ground the bottom of which was bedrock. He had sent the men Osidian had given him to the lagoon and, when they returned, their drag-cradles were sagging under the weight of the clay they had gouged from its banks. This was tipped into the hole, where the Bluedancing used it to plaster the walls and floor. When it had dried, waterskins were carefully emptied into the cistern. All that day, drag-cradles arrived laden with more. Slowly the level of the pool rose brown and murky up the clay sides of the pit. When it had nearly reached the top, Carnelian laid over it covers of woven fernfrond strengthened with scouring-rush poles. The structure sagged a
little
but held. Days later, as the Bluedancing and the others were digging the next cistern, Carnelian had the covers lifted off the first. A sigh of relieved delight rose from his Ochre helpers as they saw the clay had
settl
ed, leaving the water clear.