Miraculous light was seeping towards Carnelian through the trees. He could hardly believe that it might be the forest’s end. As it grew brighter he looked around him as if he were coming awake. The trunks’ grooved drapery folds reminded him that they were not trees but gods, and then only gods of carved stone. As they passed between the last of them into the clearing, the nightmare was already lifting.
His chair stopped, suddenly, shockingly. He had learned to know all its rhythms save stillness. Half-black faces looking back past him made him crane round. Stooping, Jaspar’s people were stumbling out from the columns that faded away behind them into impenetrable darkness. ‘Just a cave,’ Carnelian said, but his shudder betrayed the lie.
Jaspar came alive in his chair. ‘My . . . Lord . . . cousin?’
Carnelian focused on the Master. ‘The Labyrinth . . . it is only a cave.’ He tried to force conviction into his voice.
Jaspar’s mask stared at him for some moments before turning away. ‘The stair.’ His voice sounded dreamy.
Carnelian looked and was crushed as if the green cliff rising all around them were a tidal wave of water.
‘The Pillar . . . of course,’ he muttered, daring to lift his eyes.
They were in a fissure of the Pillar rock that opened raggedly to the north-west. Up it funnelled, shadow-mottled, filled with heads and limbs. The fissure was all carved. His eyes floated higher and higher. The rock turned black but still it climbed and Carnelian’s eyes could find no end to it. He gaped, stunned. This mountain dwarfed even the cliff edge of the Guarded Land, yet it was carved all the way to the sky.
‘The Rainbow Stair,’ said Jaspar.
Carnelian’s eyes came clambering back down the crags. They took a while to grow accustomed to the nearer scales. He could see nothing like steps, only, in the shadows, rills of water winding down among the mossy men. The ground was sodden, with a road crossing it. He narrowed his eyes to look out through the fissure’s open side. He blinked several times. The stone forest of the Labyrinth fell away down a slope till over its green undulating roof he could see the Yden’s melting emerald spreading out to meet the Skymere. His gaze crossed the causeway to where the wedge of the Valley of the Gate was cut into the girding mass of the Sacred Wall.
‘We have waited for them long enough!’ cried Jaspar, his anger stinging their chairs into movement.
Carnelian hung over his chair’s arm, reluctant to disengage his eyes from the glorious vision of the crater. After the Labyrinth its airy freedom was a salve for his eyes. The mouldy smell of the Pillar’s stone drew him back to the creatures that lurked in it. Like ferns, they grew up from the boggy earth, uncurling their limbs and smiles over the heart-stone. He saw the stair. Steps, striped with red chalcedony and amber, gold, jade, turquoise and lapis blue, and, where they touched the Pillar’s wall, bordered by a band of amethyst. Among the green spiralled men, the stair’s rainbow ribbon climbed as far as he could see.
They climbed the Rainbow Stair into the sky. The Labyrinth’s roof stretched below as a vast scrubby plain merging its edge into the emeralds of the Yden. Beyond was the blinding blue of the Skymere. Humid air rose carrying hints of perfume that mixed with the wafting sweating of the bearers. The sun’s heat was terrible. Carnelian was glad of the cowl of his robe.
The stair darned its way back and forth across the fissure. They kept to the red and amber bands so that if on one flight they were walking close to the fissure’s carved wall, on the next they would be at the stair’s edge where Carnelian would be able to see down the great fall to the ground. Parties of ammonites and Sinistrals passed them, returning to earth.
When the floor of the fissure looked the size of a shield, doorways began appearing among the carved men. The rock became riddled with window, with stairs as steep as ladders. Hanging banners proclaimed the presence of Masters whose retainers were huddled up the steps. Tattooed faces turned to watch them pass as Jaspar’s party picked its way through them.
They came to a long landing. On one side the Pillar’s rock rose carved with avatars and balconies, all pierced with doors and windows. On the other a narrow pool ran alongside the rainbow paving. Here Jaspar had his chair put down and Carnelian, observing him climbing out, took the chance himself of stretching his legs.
The pool ruffled with sunlight. Its furthest edge was a bone of rock beyond which was the vast fall. Carnelian saw that Jaspar’s people were hoisting chests up a stair to one of the apartments cut into the cliff. Two of them were feeding an Imago dragonfly banner over a balcony.
Carnelian went up to Jaspar. ‘Are you planning to stay here?’
‘This is as good a halfway house as any to spend the night.’
‘The night?’
Jaspar’s mask regarded Carnelian with contempt. He sighed. ‘It is customary to spread one’s journey up the stair over two days.’
‘Why?’
‘Because, my Lord, otherwise one can be afflicted by the sky sickness.’
‘My Lord?’
Jaspar looked up and his mask mirrored the sheer cliff of the Pillar they still had to climb. ‘Up there one breathes the sky. Even the Chosen must accustom themselves gradually to such purity.’
Carnelian gazed. The mountain was lodged like a thorn in the infinite depths of the heavens. ‘One recovers from this sky sickness?’
‘In time.’
‘A day or two?’
Jaspar’s hands made a gesture of exasperation. ‘Sometimes three.’
‘I am young, my Lord, I will take the hazard. I intend to see my father today.’
‘It is unlikely they will let you see him.’
‘Nevertheless, I will go, my Lord.’
Jaspar stood motionless, looking up the next flight of the stair. He shook his head. ‘I will not come with you, my Lord.’
‘I will gladly go alone.’
Jaspar gave a snort. ‘Even the lowest Lord of the Lesser Chosen would not appear at the Skygate without an escort.’
‘I was hoping my Lord would see fit to lend me some of his people.’
‘You did, did you?’
‘Currently, I am one of the Lords Imago. As such, I would not wish to bring such shame upon your House.’
Jaspar’s mask regarded him.
‘If I have to, I will go alone.’
‘Oh, very well! If you will insist on this ludicrous course of action I will not stop you.’ Jaspar clapped his hands and one of his guardsmen came instantly to throw himself before his Master. Jaspar arranged an escort, then turned to Carnelian. ‘You will need a household.’
‘For one day I can do without one.’
‘One day, my Lord?’
‘A household is being sent up from my coomb.’
‘Indeed, my Lord, and you expect it to be up there with you so soon?’ He made a fist. ‘They will not.’
‘But Jaspar, how can I use your people?’
‘Aaagh, the delicate sensitivity shows itself again like the horns of a snail. My dear, I will give you blinded slaves who will suffer no punishment whatsoever should you appear before them unmasked. Does that assuage your scruples?’
Carnelian nodded.
‘Well, let us give thanks that at least we have managed that.’
Carnelian sighed his relief as the Sinistrals carried him away from Jaspar. Behind him came dragonfly-faced guardsmen leading two blind slaves. Once they were out of sight of the pool, Carnelian settled into the gentle rhythm of his chair. They had to pass other halfway houses with their encampments of retainers. When at last they had left these behind, Carnelian was isolated in the rushing wind, watching the graven gods slip by or gazing out over vertiginous views of the crater.
The air grew progressively cooler until Carnelian was forced to pull his robe tightly round him for warmth. The crater had become a remote mosaic floor. Several times when the stair doubled back at a northern landing, he glimpsed the disc of the Plain of Thrones. However high they climbed, there always remained a vast mass
of the Pillar looming above.
In a keening gale, they came to the Rainbow Stair’s last step. Towering up behind it, the Skygate was an immense oblong of bronze studded with turtleshell sky glyphs. Carnelian’s Sinistral bearers put him down and backed away to allow his Imago guardsmen to flank him as he climbed out of the chair.
Carnelian felt a surge of euphoria. Strangely, even the thought that his father’s death might soon be confirmed did not darken his mood. More Sinistrals appeared wrapped in flapping cloaks of green and black. Collared with tarnished silver, eyes averted, their half-black faces looked out from horned casques.
Carnelian was about to shout to them over the wind when they opened a path in their midst leading to the gate. Bending to keep his cowl from blowing off, he walked along it trailing Jaspar’s men. He struck the gate and waited. Glancing up he saw one of the sky glyphs hanging over him as large as a chariot. The Skygate gasped open and a thick perfumed exhalation streamed past him. He walked through. The ground shook as the gate closed behind him, cutting the wind off like a tongue with a knife.
A cavernous hall ran off to what seemed to be the edge of a forest. Quilted with a tang of lilies, the air was pulsing. Carnelian thought he was hearing his own blood, but when he pushed his hand to his chest he found his heart was beating faster. Concentrating, he thought perhaps it might be a drum playing somewhere in the faraway forest.
‘Seraph Imago, you were not expected till the morrow.’
The voice made Carnelian start. He turned to see the silver face of an ammonite beside him. He could not think what to say.
‘Which of the Seraphs Imago are you?’
For answer Carnelian removed Khrusos’ ring and handed it to the ammonite, who examined it, then returned it.
‘Will he that is to be Imago be joining you, Seraph?’
Carnelian shook his head.
‘Fortunately, chambers have been made ready to receive you, Seraph. If the Seraph would deign to follow.’
Carnelian reached out to stop the man turning away. ‘I must see the Ruling Lord Suth.’
The ammonite’s silver mask regarded him as if he were mad. ‘Seraph, even if you were Imago, it would take days to arrange an audience with the Regent.’
‘The Regent? He is well, then?’
The ammonite shrugged. ‘Seraph, I do not understand.’ The man hunched his shoulders, beginning to fall into the prostration.
‘I assure you that he will want to see me.’
The ammonite made vague gestures with his hands but would not look up at him. ‘Seraph, perhaps I should go and fetch one of my Masters?’
‘No,’ Carnelian said, feeling a stab of fear. The Wise must not be involved. Carnelian thought furiously. ‘If I had something that I wished to give the Regent, could you make sure that he received it?’
The ammonite took a step back. ‘My Masters, perhaps . . .?’
Carnelian reached into his robe and pulled out the chain with his father’s Ruling Ring. He snapped the chain to unthread the ring. ‘This should be given to the Regent. It belongs to him.’
The ammonite hesitated. Carnelian grabbed his hand and forced the ring into it. The silver mask regarded the hand.
‘Give it to your Masters if you must, but get it to the Regent.’
The ammonite put the ring away into his robe, bowed, and then led Carnelian and his Imago guardsmen down the hall. He found a door down the left-hand side. The Sinistrals who guarded it stood aside and the door opened into a corridor of more human proportions that curved out of sight, its left wall regularly set with doors. They walked down this until Carnelian had given up counting the doors.
At last the ammonite stopped at one, opened it a little, jerked a bow and moved quickly away. Carnelian pushed the door fully open. It gave into a long narrow chamber that had steps at the end rising to another door. He crossed to open it and found another similar chamber. Seven such chambers brought him to a flight of steps leading up to a more imposing door. He climbed to open it and walked into a bedchamber. Over the rattle of shutters, he could hear the wind careening through the sky outside. He returned to the door and urged the Imago retainers to make themselves comfortable, then he closed the door and went to sit on the bed to wait. The distant heartbeat was the loudest sound in the chamber. He listened to it with the taste of copper in his mouth, wondering if this was a symptom of the sky sickness.
SYBLINGS
My reflection was my brother
Wheresoever I did go
He was bound to follow
(Chosen nursery rhyme)
CARNELIAN SKIMMED SLEEP LIKE A FLYING FISH. BENEATH ITS WAVES SLID nightmare shadows, driving him to struggle out of the water’s leaden coat up into the air. He longed for their mouths to swallow him and end the nausea of fear, but still with a slap and a flick he managed to evade each lunge and fly free, winnowing the wind, frantically rowing the air. He would see the fire in the chamber, perhaps his stone fingers, the gloom pulsing with his heart, and then first his head and then his spine would suck back into the sleeving sea.
He was shaken awake. All he could hear was his beating heart.
‘Carnelian.’
Impossibly, his father’s voice, his father’s face quivering with the drumbeat of Carnelian’s heart. It was his father sitting on the bed in the flickering firelight clad in some peculiar close-fitting garments. Carnelian reached out for him and they clung to each other.
Suth pushed him gently away and looked at him. ‘Why are you here?’
Carnelian’s head throbbed. He reached up to feel for the spike hammering into it. ‘My heart,’ he said, not understanding how this could rhythm his father’s words.
His father frowned, looked puzzled. He turned his head to one side, listening. ‘No, not your heart, the God Emperor’s.’ His face darkened. ‘Why are you here, my Lord?’
‘I came to . . .’ He saw the Ruling Ring on his father’s finger and pointed. ‘Good, they gave it to you.’
His father looked at his ring, frowning. He rubbed his finger over its cypher and showed Carnelian the ink stain on his skin. Carnelian felt that his father’s eyes were seeing into his head. ‘This is not the time to examine what has transpired in the coomb, but be assured, my Lord, that you will have to provide me with a full account. Now, why did you come?’
The ache in Carnelian’s head made it difficult to think. ‘Your letter—’
‘Contained nothing about your coming here.’
Carnelian began shaking his head but stopped when it increased the hammering.
The look in his father’s eyes softened. ‘You are in pain, my son?’
‘Just an ache . . . The letter you sent purported to be from you but was written in another’s hand.’
‘I should have explained that in the letter. The drugs the Wise have been giving me—’
‘Your wound, father!’ Carnelian felt sick that he had forgotten it.
‘Do not concern yourself. Under their supervision it heals well enough.’ Suth lifted trembling hands. ‘But you see how it affects me?’ Carnelian stared at his father’s hands. They looked so frail. His father rested them on his knees. ‘What did you hope to achieve by coming here?’
‘To discover if you were still alive. To make sure that Aurum was not using your . . .’
‘. . . corpse?’ His father snorted a smile. Then his face hardened again. ‘What part has Jaspar played in this?’
‘How do you—? Of course, his people outside. Are they suffering like me?’
His father made a dismissive gesture. ‘Not as much as you. Why are they here?’
Carnelian grimaced. ‘It was the only way I could think of getting to court.’
His father’s eyes narrowed. ‘Who put this idea in your head?’
Carnelian considered it. ‘Spinel, I suppose.’
‘Did he indeed. Was it also his idea for you not to come as yourself ?’
Carnelian nodded.
His father rolled his eyes. ‘W
hat price did Jaspar ask for aiding you in this farce?’
‘None.’
‘Do you really believe the Lord Jaspar would do this from kindness?’
‘His father’s murder made him my natural ally.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Ykoriana murdered his fath—’
Suth slapped his hand over Carnelian’s mouth. ‘You must not make such accusations,’ he hissed. ‘Here, you must take care even when speaking that name.’ He looked round as if there might have been ears lurking in the shadows. ‘We are in the very heart of her power.’
‘Still. You can see what I mean, Father?’
‘What you suggest is utterly impossible.’
‘Ammonites . . .’
‘No. The Wise would never conspire with her to give her the leverage to topple the Balance.’
‘Surely you could not imagine that any of Jaspar’s household would have dared such an act?’
His father shook his head. ‘There is another suspect.’
‘An enemy among the Great?’
‘Someone much closer to home.’
Carnelian thought it through. His jaw dropped. ‘His own father . . .’
Suth nodded slowly, giving his son time to let it sink in. ‘While we were crossing the sea, she gained control of Imago, and with him their faction.’
‘But to kill his own father . . . surely he will be punished.’
Suth made a sign of doubt. ‘If there were proof, the Wise and the Clave together would send him for ever into the outer world . . . but he will have left no proof.’
Carnelian saw again the crucifixion. ‘Even now he washes away his guilt with their blood.’ Carnelian shook his eyes free of the nightmare and looked at his father. ‘Why did he bring me, then? To curry favour with you?’
‘No, to make me vulnerable through you.’
Carnelian sagged and his head felt close to exploding. ‘Then I must return immediately to the coomb.’
‘That would change nothing. The damage is done, but perhaps we can still turn this to our advantage. Whether you stay or go you must remain here at least until you have recovered from the sky sickness.’
The Chosen (The Stone Dance Of The Chameleon) Page 40