The Standing Dead sdotc-2

by Ricardo Pinto

  'I'd better stay here. This land is strange to you and dangerous.'

  'We can look after ourselves, barbarian,' said Osidian, coldly.

  Fern could not withstand the pressure of the Master's gaze. His eyes fell. Suddenly his face grew fearful. 'Sit. Sit quickly.'

  'What?' said Carnelian.

  'Your feet…' said Fern.

  Carnelian looked down and saw his feet and legs caked in dust to the knees.

  'Please, Masters,' Fern pleaded, 'remove your feet from the earth.'

  Carnelian remembered the ranga shoes the Law had demanded a Master wear so as not to touch any earth outside Osrakum.

  'You believe the earth will taint us?'

  Fern looked up wide-eyed, confused. The Mother, taint you? How could…? Not that…'

  Osidian's eyebrows raised and he smiled. 'Surely you don't believe our feet will taint the earth?'

  The Mother only suffers women to walk unshod upon her. Please. You do yourselves great harm and you endanger all of us besides.'

  Carnelian turned to Osidian. 'We should do as he asks,' he said, adding, in Quya: 'Whatever he believes, we would be taking the same precaution the Wise themselves recommend.'

  The smile froze on Osidian's face. 'Do you imagine, Carnelian, we have come this far in our captivity unsullied?'

  Carnelian could not answer him but searched Osidian's eyes to see if accusation lay in them.

  Oblivious to his probing, Osidian turned to Fern who had been looking from one to the other with pained impatience. 'Are we then to walk across this land upon our hands, barbarian?'

  'I shall make you shoes, just please, please sit down.'

  Osidian looked suddenly weary. 'Oh very well, we shall indulge your superstition.' He sank to the ground and laid his back against the tree and Carnelian sat down beside him. With furious speed, Fern cut some ferns upon which to put their feet. Then, after seeming to pray before a nearby tree, he peeled from it a sheet of bark from which he cut the soles of four shoes and, pleating rope from fern stalks, he bound them to the feet of the Standing Dead.

  It was nearing dusk when the hunters returned to lay their catches at Osidian's feet: two saurians, the size of children but more slender; long of tail and neck, with narrow hands and bird-claw feet. Carnelian's gaze lingered on these for a moment but he was more interested in the faces of the hunters.

  'Did you rub charcoal on your faces as a sign of mourning?'

  Their eyes seemed very bright as they stared at him.

  'In a manner of speaking, Master,' said Ravan. 'By wearing the Skyfather's colour we declare ourselves his children so that our saurian brothers might give themselves to us.' He indicated the dead creatures.

  Osidian sat as impassive as an idol. Ravan and Krow regarded him as if they might at any time kneel in adoration.

  'Night is fast approaching,' said Loskai, sending a ripple of unease through the youths. Carnelian saw that several of them were scouring the fernland with narrowed eyes. He rose to his feet.

  'What is it they fear?' Osidian asked Carnelian in Quya.

  The darkness, apparently,' replied Carnelian. Osidian gave him an unpleasant smile. 'And so they should.'

  Ravan's black face was regarding them with a frown of incomprehension.

  'Are we in some danger?' Carnelian asked, reverting to Vulgate.

  'It is often at the beginning and the end of each day that the great raveners stir themselves to hunt.'

  Carnelian's heart jumped inside him as he remembered the monster's attack. For a moment he and Fern locked eyes, mutually understanding each other's fear, then the Plainsman turned to his brother.

  'Ravan, take some of the others. Go, find some dry dung. Gather enough to make a fire that'll burn all night and make sure you keep your eyes sharp.'

  As Ravan reluctantly obeyed him, Fern crouched and scooped one of the saurians into his arms tenderly, as if he feared he might wake it. He rose cradling the creature whose head hung wilted over his arm.

  'Where are you taking it?' Carnelian asked Fern.

  To prepare her for eating.'

  'Can I help?'

  'If you want.'

  Carnelian lifted the other saurian. Unnervingly, it was like holding a baby.

  As they walked off side by side, Carnelian glanced over at Osidian who was sitting with his eyes closed, his back against a tree.

  'How is he?' asked Fern.

  'As worn out as the rest of us.'

  Carnelian was relieved when Fern accepted that. His friend was peering into the gathering night. He shook his head. 'I prayed we'd left the madness behind in the forest, but now the sun is going down, I feel the dread creeping back.'

  Carnelian shuddered, feeling the same growing despair. 'Do you think we've been affected by the rotten djada?'

  Fern's eyebrows raised. 'Perhaps.'

  'At least you're home,' Carnelian said, affecting cheerfulness.

  Fern stared at him.

  This… is the Earthsky, isn't it…?'

  'A part of it, but far away from any we know.' Worry welled in his eyes. 'And we are flightless without our aquar.'

  Carnelian decided not to push for more. Carefully, Fern laid his burden on the ground and Carnelian put his down beside it. Fern brought out a flint from his ragged robe, then began to cut the newest growth from the fern croziers round about. Carnelian offered to hold the cuttings. The green smell rising from the tight spirals seemed a kind of hope. When Carnelian's arms could hold no more, Fern indicated a spot beside the saurians and Carnelian crouched there and spilled the spirals out onto the ground. Fern knelt beside him and began sorting them.

  'What're they for?' asked Carnelian.

  Fern looked up and grinned. 'You'll see.'

  Carnelian watched as Fern used the desire the cuttings had to curl to skilfully, weave them into a mat. He rolled the saurians on to it, then began to sing a lament. Carnelian could not understand more than one word in twenty. His friend's eyes were focused devoutly on the saurians. Puzzled, Carnelian waited until he had finished.

  'Why…?'

  Fern looked at him. 'Why do I sing?' Carnelian nodded.

  'Don't you sing farewell to your dead?'

  Carnelian looked down at the saurians, trying to imagine them as kindred creatures. Fern stroked his hand up the neck of one and, when he reached its throat, carefully straightened its head. He picked up a clawed hand using only finger and thumb and slowly flexed the tiny wrist. He looked up.

  'Aren't they as much the children of this sky and this earth as we?'

  'But you killed them nevertheless?'

  'We have to eat, but we give our little sisters here thanks for sustaining our lives through their sacrifice.'

  Carnelian considered this as he watched with what tenderness his friend sliced the bellies of the saurians open. He scraped out their entrails and, articulating each limb in turn, began to joint them. The head, hands and feet he put into a hole he dug in the ground and then covered them up.

  'Returning them to the Mother,' Fern murmured. He took hold of the mat by two corners and lifted it carefully so the blood that had pooled around the jointed saurians poured out over the ground. 'Having no women here it's up to us to make sure the Mother gets her due,' he said as the redness soaked into the earth.

  Ravan, Krow and the others were returning at a trot, their arms bulging with soft boulders which Carnelian realized must be dung. Dumping their burdens, they turned to look back the way they had come, searching. Fern distracted them by making demands. One of the youths gave him some herbs. Carnelian watched them dig a pit, line it with fern fronds, lay the saurian joints over these, sprinkle the herbs on top, and cover it all with more leaves and a thin scattering of earth. It was on top of this that they arranged the dung and some kindling. Fingers clumsy with anxiety spun the fire-drill. At last, a teasing of smoke rose from the kindling which, when it was fed with crumbled dung, was soon followed by tongues of flame.

  Chattering with relief, th
e Plainsmen squatted around the fire. Without trying to understand what they said, Carnelian enjoyed the murmur of their talk as he too drew comfort from the flames.

  'It'll be ready soon,' said Fern to Ravan. 'Go and ask the Master if he wishes to eat with us.'

  A while later, Ravan appeared with Osidian. Seeing him standing deathly white at the edge of the fire, Carnelian realized he had been deliberately putting him out of his mind. Carnelian tried a smile but it felt dishonest. As Osidian sat down beside him, Carnelian noticed the Plainsmen fell silent.

  The night grew pitchy black. A bellow swelling from the far distance chilled Carnelian to the marrow. After that, only the fire spoke, its crackling enlivened by pops that shot sparks up into the air. Following these pinpricks of gold up in the smoke, Carnelian became lost in the Plainsman sky. It seemed to him a bleak god who lay behind such chill white stars. With a shudder, he pulled his gaze back down to earth and the comfort of their fire.

  They must be done,' said Ravan.

  It took some moments for his words to break their huddling circle. Carnelian felt he was coming slowly awake. With a broom they had improvised, the Plainsmen brushed the embers aside and then the smouldering earth. With much yelping and a jerking back of hands to lick burnt fingers, they plucked off the blackened fronds, releasing delicious steam. The youths produced a stack of little mats they had woven and with these to protect their hands, they fished out pieces of meat and passed them round. Ravan made certain it was he and not Krow who offered Osidian a portion.

  Carnelian began eating with the others. Silence fell, interspersed with grunts of pleasure. Carnelian closed his eyes to better savour every mouthful.

  'This must be the most delicious food I have ever tasted,' he said, the juices running down his chin.

  When Fern translated what he said, Carnelian was rewarded with grins and looks of pride. He looked round and saw Osidian's food lying untouched in his hand and that he was squinting into the heart of the fire. When he spoke, everyone jumped.

  'How do you plan to get to your homes?'

  'We must go east until eventually -'

  'On foot?’ said Loskai.

  Fern looked grim. 'Have you a better idea?'

  Loskai glared at Fern, who Carnelian could see was unhappy about the effect the confrontation was having on the others. He decided he would try to break the impasse.

  'Fern, you were saying that if we go east we would eventually end up… where?'

  His friend gave him a look of gratitude. 'At the Backbone, which we can follow to the Twostone.'

  Krow looked up eagerly and Fern smiled at him. 'Once there, our kin tribe will lend us aquar to get us home.'

  Krow smiled as he nodded, but then his smile fell away and Carnelian guessed the youth was imagining the day when he would have to tell his tribe about Cloud's death.

  '… and, besides, they'll have news of our tributaries,' Ravan was saying and glanced over at Osidian.

  'Describe this "Backbone",' he said. 'It is the Mother's own that rises out from her earth.' 'Do you mean a basalt ridge running deep into the south?'

  'Basalt?' Fern frowned at the strange word. 'Black stone,' said Osidian.

  Fern broke into a nod. 'Yes, it runs straight and true further south even than our koppie.'

  Carnelian saw the calculation in Osidian's eyes. 'You knew of this already?'

  Barely glancing at him, Osidian momentarily dipped his chin, then turned his fiery eyes upon Fern. 'Your destination lies near this Backbone?' He waited just enough time for Fern to nod before continuing his interrogation. He wanted to know how long the Plainsmen took, once they had descended from Makar, to cross the Leper Valleys to the Earthsky and, from there, how long a ride it was to the koppie of the Twostone. The other questions Osidian asked, Carnelian deduced, must be designed to determine the pace at which these journeys were carried out.

  Osidian smiled. 'Why then not go directly to the Twostone koppie?'

  'Because, Master, we have no idea how far south we are,' said Loskai, triumphantly.

  'Can you not judge by looking at the cliff of the Guarded Land?' asked Carnelian.

  Fern shook his head. This part of the Earthsky is foreign to both the Ochre and the Twostone.'

  'I shall need two spears,' said Osidian.

  They stared at him, recognizing the tone as that of their guide through the madness of the forest. They had grown used to obeying it.

  When Osidian had his spears he laid them across his knees and, taking a blade from Ravan, began to gouge regularly spaced notches along their lengths. Carnelian could only stare with the rest. No better than they could he imagine what Osidian had in mind.

  When Osidian walked off into the darkness carrying the two notched spears, Carnelian followed him. Hearing footfalls, he turned to see Ravan silhouetted against the fire.

  Til go with him. There's no need for you to come.'

  'You don't understand the dangers, Master,' said Ravan.

  The youth had a point. Glancing round, Carnelian saw Osidian was already far enough away to be almost invisible in the night.

  He turned back to Ravan. 'We'll be all right. You stay here.'

  Sensing that the youth was on the verge of rebellion, Carnelian considered explaining to him that Osidian was in a dangerous mood. A stubbornness in the set of Ravan's shoulders suggested he would not be amenable to argument.

  'Do what you're told,' Carnelian said, more harshly than he intended, causing the youth to shrink back. Carnelian would have apologized except he feared he would end up trapped in a discussion. Instead, he turned his back on Ravan and set off after Osidian.

  When he caught up with him, Osidian was working one of the spears into the ground.

  'What are you doing?' Carnelian asked.

  Osidian looked up. 'Good. You can help me.' He walked around the spear adjusting it slightly. He looked at Carnelian.

  'Is it vertical?'

  Carnelian moved round it. 'Seems to be.' Osidian pointed to a point halfway up the spear. 'Hold it here.'

  When Carnelian hesitated, Osidian, stooping, took hold of his right wrist. Carnelian allowed his hand to be positioned on the spear. 'Make a fist about it.'

  Carnelian complied. Osidian took some steps away, lifted the other spear, rested its haft on Carnelian's fist and asked him to hold it in place. Osidian held the other end and raised it until it was level.

  There should be a gouge near your fist.'

  Carnelian searched for it and found it; one larger than the others. Osidian slid the spear towards Carnelian until the gouge lay above his fist.

  'Is it a perfect cross?' Osidian asked.

  The spears intersected at Carnelian's fist. After some adjustment, Carnelian declared they met at right angles. Being careful not to move the spear out of alignment, Osidian crouched and looked along it.

  'What are you doing?' asked Carnelian, increasingly exasperated.

  'Sighting the horizon.'

  Carnelian turned and looked to the north where the starry sky ended in blackness. 'Why?' 'Let your fist slide down a little.' Carnelian complied.

  Osidian nodded. "That's good. Now with your other hand, hold the top of the spear.'

  As Carnelian did this, Osidian continued to speak. 'I am trying to determine the height of the axis stars.'

  Carnelian stared up at the sky. The axis stars?'

  Osidian loosed one hand to point. That pair, just above the horizon.'

  Carnelian followed the pointing finger and, with some more help from Osidian, found the stars.

  'Of course, this instrument is laughably primitive… Let your right fist slide a little down the spear.'

  Carnelian did so.

  'Not so far.'

  Carnelian moved his fist up a little. 'A little more.' Carnelian obliged.

  The Wise use finely calibrated cross-staves.' He whistled softly. Their books do not lie: this far south the stars do sit very low.'

  'What does it matter?'

&nbs
p; Their height will tell us how far south we are.' Carnelian frowned. 'Sorcery?'

  Osidian chuckled. 'Of a sort. The sky turns around the axis stars. The Wise say it is the suspension point of the carapace. The earth is formed on the dome of the lower half of the shell of the Turtle. The further south one is, the shallower the angle at which one views the axis stars.'

  Osidian had Carnelian check the cross was perfect and then Carnelian had to adjust his right fist a little. 'Now, stay perfectly still.'

  Osidian carefully lifted the horizontal spear off Carnelian's lower hand and came to peer at the vertical one. Carnelian flinched when Osidian produced a blade. He lifted it so that it touched Carnelian's upper hand and there cut a mark into the spear shaft. He did the same just above Carnelian's lower hand.

  'You can let go now.'

  Carnelian did so and stepped back as Osidian plucked the spear free. He lifted it up and peered at it. Carnelian could see his lips were moving.

  'You're counting?'

  The notches.'

  'And?'

  'There were almost exactly five between your fists.'

  'Which means?'

  The angle is five twentieths.'

  Carnelian made a noise of exasperation that caused Osidian to look up from the spear.

  The Labyrinth in Osrakum is eight twentieths, nine four-hundredths and fifteen eight-thousandths.' 'Blood fractions?'

  'Quyan fractions which are used for describing the blood taint but which here indicate the inclination of the axis stars.'

  'Did we not already know we were far to the south of Osrakum?'

  'We did, but now we also know exactly how far south we are. If my memory serves, Makar is close to the most southerly point of the Guarded Land, which I recall to be five twentieths and eighteen four-hundredths. Estimating distances from what the barbarian told me, the reading we have just taken suggests we are north of our destination.'

  'Which means?'

  'Which means, my Lord, we shall proceed across this plain a little south of east.'

  'What if we miss the Twostone koppie?'

  'No matter. We cannot miss the basalt ridge. Once we reach that, the barbarians should be able to lead us the rest of the way.'

  Carnelian looked back where the fire was glowing in among the Plainsmen like a candle in a lamp. Osidian gathered up the spears.