Carnelian stood up, laughing as he pointed at Fern soaked, caked in dust. Fern scooped some water at him. Soon they were splashing around like boys, delighting in the cool flying diamond spray.
Dripping, they set off across the rocks. Through the dazzle, it took concentration. The footing became treacherous. Sometimes a route would end at a deep rush of water which they dared not ford for fear it should sweep them over the falls. They pushed on.
Closer, the banyan trunks rose scabrous black, taller than it had seemed possible from the other shore. Seeing its hall of columns, Carnelian recalled what Osidian had said.
'Labyrinth,' he said in Quya. 'What?' Fern demanded.
Carnelian turned and saw Fern's barbarian look of incomprehension. His hands rose to mask his face from the dark eyes. Fern's horror shocked Carnelian free of his mood.
'Why are you staring at me like that?' Fern shook his head.
'What?' Carnelian demanded, knowing he was in the wrong.
Fern grew angry. 'You were looking at me the way the Master does.'
The Masterly pride that had woken in him would not allow him to apologize. 'We can go back now, I've seen enough.'
Fern bared his teeth. 'You were the one who wanted to see this accursed place and see it you will.'
He pushed past Carnelian who, cursing, followed him.
As they neared the shore of the island, they began to slip and fall because the banyan commanded their stares. Around its feet, what had appeared to be tangled driftwood was not that at all.
'Bones…' Fern said staring.
Yellowed white, immense spars snagged in a log jam that clung to the shore of the island. The black roots of the banyan snaked among them as if it were feeding on the dead. A vast carcass lay broken among the bones, grey-brown tatters of skin hanging on the skeleton. It seemed to Carnelian even more sinister than the slaughter of the heaveners. He peered upstream.
This river in flood must bring corpses.'
Looking back to the other shore, the aquar and its drag-cradle looked tiny beneath the black cliff of the Backbone. Carnelian longed to return. Fern was peering into the cavernous darkness imprisoned by the trunks.
Carnelian's eyes again became tangled in the banyan. Its breath was sweet decay.
'What are you staring at?' Fern demanded.
'I have…' He stopped, seeing Fern's incomprehension. He realized he had been speaking in Quya again. 'I've seen this place before.'
Fern looked incredulous. 'How could you have?'
Carnelian was unwilling to explain. Could this be the model for the Labyrinth? They were too far from Osrakum. No Masters save he and Osidian could ever have been here.
Fern, terrified, was framed by the banyan rising like night behind him. Neither of them could bear to be there a moment longer. As fast as they could, they made their way back to the safety of the other shore, arriving bloody and bruised from many falls.
Neither spoke as they coaxed the aquar with its fully loaded drag-cradle towards the camp. Carnelian had fallen back to put the bulk of the creature between him and Fern. He was embarrassed. After having all but forced his friend to go to the island, it was he who had most wanted to flee and that after having behaved abominably. Now they were past the impaled man and among the baobabs, it seemed as if it had been someone else who had panicked.
A commotion was echoing from the crown of the knoll. Fern made the aquar stop. Carnelian continued walking and they looked at each other. Fern began running. Carnelian looked around, decided the aquar could look after herself and took off after him. He felt the creature's footfalls through the earth and looking back saw she was loping after them, the drag-cradle rattling after her, shedding waterskins. They slid, and bounced and burst open, splashing water everywhere. Carnelian grimaced, but turned his back on the debacle and raced on.
As he and Fern crossed the ditch into the camp, they saw the backs of Plainsmen who were focusing on something in their midst. Unable to make himself heard above their roar, Carnelian pushed his way through. Some responded violently, but sprang aside when they saw who it was. Silence spread through their ranks. A path opened to the centre of the crowd, where he saw a sartlar at bay, hair risen in a mane.
'Kor?' he said. 'What are you doing to her?' he bellowed, striding round the front row of men, shoving them aside. They drew back, awed by his rage. A growling made him turn. The animal sound was coming from the sartlar woman.
'Kor…' he said, gently, approaching her. The woman snarled at him and he pulled his hands up and stepped back to give her space.
'Have they hurt you?' he said, his voice slow, soothing.
Kor glared at him. Keeping a wary eye on her, he looked around. 'What's this about?'
'Salt,' one man cried, and many others took the word up in a chorus.
At first Carnelian did not understand, but then he noticed the snowy grains frosting the ground. Kor had more in her hands, more crumbled down her rags.
'She came with a great slab of it,' said Krow. 'She wouldn't give it to us, nor tell us where it came from.'
Avarice gleamed in every eye. Seeing Kor still looking hunted, Carnelian crouched beside her.
'It's all right now, little mother,' he said.
He continued talking until Kor relaxed, straightening up as much as she could.
They tore it from me, Master,' she said and indicated the salt strewn earth with her gnarled fists.
'It doesn't matter, Kor.'
He was trying to get close enough to lead her off before she said anything else but she backed away from him.
'I only came to ask the Master where he wants us to put the slabs we've cut.' Carnelian groaned.
Ravan broke through into the circle. There's more…?' he cried, staring at the sartlar.
'Caves of it,' said Fern. He stamped the ground. 'Here beneath our feet.'
The Plainsmen erupted. Carnelian glared at Fern, who grimaced. 'We have kept this from them too long.'
Carnelian gave a weary nod of acceptance.
Ravan's eyes burned with excitement as he looked out over the men. 'With so much wealth we could recruit a vast host' He raised his arms. 'We would become invincible.'
He turned on Carnelian.*Even against the Master and his Manila.'
'Do you imagine the Standing Dead would not notice the drying up of their recruits? How long do you think it would be before they came to punish your impudence?'
Ravan's lip curled up from his teeth. 'More threats, Master?' He stabbed a finger at Carnelian and looked round at the men. 'Does this one seem so terrifying that we must quake at the very mention of their retribution?' He circled Carnelian. 'Are these Standing Dead really so much mightier than us that we should obey them as if they were gods? What is the basis of their power except terror? I say that should we choose to be men and defy them, we will find their power is nothing more substantial than a mirage.'
Fern closed on his brother. The Master has possessed you as he has us all.' He surveyed the crowd. 'We have become murderers and thieves. He has made us forget our ancient ways, our humility, our honour and piety. He has made us give insult to the Mother.'
He looked at Ravan, shaking his head sadly. 'As for you, my brother, I do not hear wisdom but rather the bitterness of a lover spurned.'
Ravan clenched his fists and bared his teeth. 'You accuse me of that, you who are to him' – he pointed at Carnelian – 'in everything his wife.'
Fern swung and struck his brother a blow which made him reel but then return screaming. 'Do you want to hit me again? Come on, do you?'
Fern looked horrified. He seemed to become suddenly aware they had an audience. He threw himself bodily at the crowd, who made way for him.
Carnelian almost ran after him, but Ravan was staring, his face already bruising.
'Master, where shall we store the salt?' Kor asked.
Carnelian swung round and she cowered. 'Where do you normally put it?'
The sartlar angled her head towards the Is
le of Flies.
'Store it in the caves.'
She fell into a prostration. As he looked at the white-flecked ground around her, he wondered if the creature could really have so little idea of how precious salt was that she innocently brought such a slab into the Plainsman camp.
He became aware of the men around him staring. 'Haven't you seen enough?' he bellowed. They ducked their heads and began dispersing. Carnelian asked Krow to look after Ravan and then he went to find Fern.
Carnelian found his friend standing at the chasm edge gazing across at the Isle of Flies. They stood side by side in silence.
'I couldn't bear to hear the Master's voice coming out of him,' said Fern at last. 'I know,' said Carnelian. 'It really is as if he is possessed.' 'In many ways he is.'
Water fell around the dark face of the Isle of Flies like hair. Carnelian felt the question forming on his lips as his heart pounded.
'Is that why you hit him?'
Sensing Fern turning towards him, Carnelian looked round and their eyes met with an intensity that snatched away his breath. Fern's irises were all black.
'He insulted us both.'
Carnelian controlled anger. 'Do men among the tribes never love each other?'
Fern looked pained. 'Boys do.' 'And when boys become men?'
'Once we are married, such feelings are discouraged. A man should love his wife and his children above all others.'
Carnelian saw the desire burning in Fern, but knew now he must not let it ignite his own. 'Perhaps Ravan was acting from fear. We must assure him we will not tell the Master of the… arguments we've had with him.'
Fern was looking at him very seriously. Carnelian made light of his feelings and laughed. He slapped Fern on the back.
'Come on, let's go and see if any of the water survived our return.'
Days later, shouting brought everyone in the camp running down armed towards the Ladder. As he ran to it with the others, Carnelian saw smoke wavering up from the chasm. His heart raced as he recognized Osidian's signal. He pushed his way through the Plainsmen to peer over the edge. Far below, from where the smoke was rising, a dark mass of men could be seen gathered at the base of the Ladder and others were already climbing it.
'Manila,' said Fern who was beside Carnelian.
They glanced at each other. Even at that distance, it was hard to believe these were all Oracles.
The Master's not there,' said Ravan.
'He must be,' said Carnelian. 'He told me he would send up smoke to signal his return.' 'I can't see him.'
'He's there somewhere,' said Krow. 'I'm certain of it.' The anxious way he was searching suggested otherwise.
Ravan pulled back from the edge. 'We must cut the Ladder.'
Fern rounded on him.
Ravan ignored his brother's glare. 'Am I the only one who can see those are Manila warriors?'
Fern turned frowning to Carnelian. 'He's right.'
They both eyed the Plainsmen and saw how uneasy they were.
Carnelian knew it was true. If Osidian was there then it seemed he did not trust them and was sending up these warriors in advance of him. Warriors? There had been no talk of warriors.
Ravan had moved towards the anchor trees. 'Are we all just going to wait here to be slaughtered?'
As most of the Darkcloud moved to Ravan's side, Carnelian could see they meant to support the youth.
'We can't ignore the threat,' said Fern.
Carnelian nodded. 'Ravan is right, we must take precautions. You all have your spears. Let's form a hornwall.'
Ravan gaped, confused, as Carnelian formed the Plainsmen into a crescent surrounding the head of the Ladder. He interspersed their line with Ochre who had experience of the formation from the battle against the Bluedancing. Then they waited, hearing the approach of the Manila in the vibrations of the Ladder cables.
SCREAMING
Pleasure can stir a voice to song. At the extremes, pain will always exceed pleasure in intensity. How much more powerful, then, is the impetus pain can give a voice? Do the Wise not teach that the sounds of agony are the vocal mode the Dark God most prefers? If this is so, then it follows that the most sublime form such a performance might attain is that in which the vocalist is skilfully excruciated and held shimmering at the very brink of death.
(from 'Of This and That' by the Ruling Lord Kirinya Prase)
At the centre of the hornwall, Carnelian watched the Marula spill out from the chasm. Gleaming black, massive limbs banded with wood, bodies hidden beneath beaded corselets that rose up behind their heads like the backs of chairs. They bared their teeth and hissed as they saw the hedge of spears awaiting them.
Carnelian felt the hornwall losing cohesion and steadied it with a bellow. More and more of the Marula were coming up, until he began to fear that should he not act now, his men would be overwhelmed.
Then he saw a taller figure at their rear.
A murmur rose from the hornwall. The Master.'
Carnelian glanced round at Fern. They shared the same deadly intent. Carnelian faced the Marula and Osidian, ready to give the order to push them all back into the chasm.
Osidian's Quya carried clear across the tumult. There is something strange in the way you look at me, Carnelian.'
A hush settled as everyone listened to the beautiful voice.
The reading of faces is an art practised in the House of the Masks. You, my dear, unlike many of the Great, have not acquired the skill to conceal your thoughts.'
Carnelian tried to blank his face, almost unmanned by its betrayal. More and more Marula were swelling the wall before Osidian. Ashen Oracles were gathering round him.
'You have perhaps become more Chosen than I expected, Carnelian.'
'Carnie?' cried Fern, shocking Carnelian free of Osidian's mesmerizing voice.
Glancing at him, Carnelian saw Fern's urgency to settle the matter. Before he could think, Osidian spoke again.
These Marula have been told that should any harm befall me… or the Ladder, then their kin shall all be given to the Oracles for sacrifice. This, not to mention that they have their backs to the chasm, should ensure they put up a vigorous fight.'
Carnelian went cold. Not only had Osidian become aware of his intention to kill him but, worse, he now saw the enormity of his mistake: Osidian had returned with an army of his own.
'Excellent, you have understood the new balance of. power.'
Carnelian sensed the men round him wavering. The Plainsmen are still more numerous than your Manila.'
Osidian inclined his head. 'Mounted, they might prevail. With me to lead them, however, I believe my Marula would have a decisive advantage.'
Carnelian felt sick. The time for rebellion had passed.
Perhaps if he had charged when Osidian had first appeared
'Come now, Carnelian, shall we two really do battle and cause such unnecessary bloodshed?' Carnelian was crushed.
'Have your men put up their spears and retire.'
A desperate hope made Carnelian look towards their fortified camp. His glance took Osidian's gaze to the knoll.
'I would starve you out and then would take the most terrible reprisals.'
Carnelian hoped at least to save his men. This was all my doing.'
'Really?' The humour in Osidian's voice was chilling. 'You need have no fear for them.' He glanced at Fern. 'Not one of them will suffer as long as they serve me.'
Carnelian knew it was finished. He ordered the Plainsmen to stand down. As here and there along the wall spears fell, Fern spoke out, anguished.
'What's going on, Carnie?'
Fearing for him, Carnelian snarled: 'Retire with the rest.'
Scowling, Fern obeyed him and, as he did so, the horn-wall dissolved.
With a gesture, Osidian sent the Manila swarming forward to take control of the anchor trees and the Ladder ropes. As they unblocked the top of the Ladder, a tide of tiny, honey-brown men was released, struggling under baskets densely packed with fern
root. Distracted by these pygmies, Carnelian started retreating but stopped when he saw Osidian beckoning. Carnelian hesitated, seeing Morunasa and other Oracles around Osidian like pale crows.
'What, my love, do you fear I will harm you?' Carnelian marched towards him his spear still in his hand, a desire beating in his chest to plunge it into Osidian.
'Carnelian, cast aside your weapon.' Osidian sounded alarmed. 'The Marula are not fully under my control. They might kill you.'
Carnelian came to a halt, confused that after all that had happened, Osidian might still care for him.
Osidian spoke again. 'Even were you to slay me, the Marula would destroy your Plainsmen.'
Carnelian saw how merciless were the yellow eyes of the Marula. As he threw away the spear, their ranks responded by opening before him. He advanced into their midst. As he closed on Osidian, it felt strange to look into green eyes again.
'Since we are being open with each other,' Osidian said, 'did you enter the caves that lie beneath our feet?'
Carnelian nodded.
'I thought you might. Does anyone else know what they contain?'
Carnelian considered lying but knew it would soon be found out. 'Everyone.'
Osidian's eyes widened. 'It amazes me you could be so stupid.'
Carnelian almost blamed Kor, but he felt this unworthy and decided he could bear Osidian's contempt.
Osidian moved forward. 'Well, it seems then there is no reason why the Plainsmen should not help load the pygmies with salt.'
'What for?'
Osidian took in the Marula with an elegant sweep of his hand. 'I had to buy them with something.'
Carnelian feared the Plainsmen would resist such work. 'Can you not use the Marula?'
They are warriors.'
'So are the Plainsmen,' said Carnelian. 'Nevertheless, it is my will that they should do it.' Carnelian saw a harshness in Osidian's eyes and knew that not only did he want to make it clear to the Plainsmen that he was now their master, but he also wanted to make Carnelian understand this was a punishment they would suffer on his behalf.
Carnelian looked for the Plainsmen and saw they had retreated to the knoll. As he pushed into the flow of pygmies, they moved from his path as if his touch were poison. He broke into open ground. Approaching the Plainsmen, he saw how bewildered they looked and lost the courage to reveal his errand. 'Carnie?' said Fern.
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