Carnelian caught her up and fell in step. ‘Migration?’
‘A few days at most.’
‘Why do we delay?’
‘We daren’t expose the Tribe to the plain until we are certain the raveners are gone.’
They walked on some more in silence. The charcoal reek of burning still persisted disturbingly in the Grove.
‘I’m worried about Ravan, the others,’ said Carnelian.
She stopped and looked him in the eye. ‘Don’t you think their mothers are too? Thirst will bring them in.’
She took leave of him and he watched her go. Peering out through the cedar canopy, he hoped she was right. He imagined Osidian and the others out there alone in what had become a desert. If he came in, it was certain the Elders would have him killed. They had waited long; had suffered enough humiliation. A turmoil of emotions churned Carnelian’s stomach. It was a while before he remembered that Osidian’s death might be closely followed by his own.
Next day, half the Tribe came down to the djada field to bale the dried meat and load it on to the drag-cradles that had been laid flat on the ground in neat rows. Night was falling when the job was done.
With Poppy, Carnelian proudly surveyed his stack of djada coils. ‘It took longer than I thought.’
‘It always does,’ said Fern. ‘Come on or we’ll be late for the feast.’
‘Feast?’ Carnelian asked seeing how sad Fern had become.
His friend glanced at Poppy. ‘Tonight is Skai’s Tithing Feast. Tomorrow, he leaves for the Mountain.’
The girl took his hand and clung to it. Sharing the pain, Carnelian was relieved his friend’s eyes held no blame.
Together they wandered up past the rows of drag-cradles.
‘There’s a lot of djada, isn’t there, Poppy?’ Carnelian said. The girl gave the merest nod.
‘It’ll have to feed us all until we return, as well as the aquar on the journey,’ said Fern.
‘How long will we be away?’
Fern shrugged. ‘Until the Rains come: between four and five moons.’
Carnelian squeezed Poppy’s hand. ‘It’ll be quite an adventure, won’t it?’ She gave him a watery smile.
He and Fern continued making conversation about the migration as they passed under the Old Bloodwood Tree. The ferngarden on the other side of the Outditch was black and barren.
‘I can’t get used to the stench of burning.’
‘The Rains will wash it away,’ said Fern.
His friend’s blank expression made Carnelian certain Fern was thinking about his daughter. Carnelian walked the rest of the way brooding about whether he would survive to suffer the day of Poppy’s Tithing Feast.
They did not hear the usual talk and laughter as they approached the hearth. Instead there was a murmur, as if people were afraid of making echoes. They formed two rows of shadows enclosing the fire glow. One rose; it was Akaisha coming to meet them.
‘We’ve been waiting for you,’ she whispered, then led them back towards the hearth.
As Carnelian came fully into the firelight, he made a smile for all the sad faces ruddy in its glow. There was one among them he had not expected to see.
‘Ravan,’ he gasped. ‘Have the others returned with you …?’
Vestiges of hunting paint deepened the shadows around the youth’s eyes. ‘They choose to remain with the Master.’
‘Then why are you here?’ said Fern.
‘I’ve come as the Master’s emissary.’
Fern snorted a laugh. ‘“Emissary?” Do you really believe you’re going to impress anyone with those airs?’
Ravan reddened. ‘I suppose you consider yourself fit to speak for the Tribe. I would’ve thought the past season hardly prepared you for anything better than carrying offal.’
Fern’s murderous advance on Ravan was stopped by Akaisha’s voice. ‘Shut up, both of you! You shame me even more than you shame yourselves. Have you forgotten whose night this is?’
Fern paled and returned to his place. Ravan remained standing, not even looking at his mother, still glaring at his brother.
‘Sit down,’ Akaisha hissed through her teeth.
Ravan glanced at her, then shrugged before dropping insolently on to the bench. Separating from Poppy, Carnelian waited to see her in her place, then he walked round Ravan to sit beside Fern. Sil was watching her husband with concern. Akaisha was looking down at her lap. When she lifted her head sorrow was softening her face.
‘Whin, dear, will you be first?’
As Whin rose, Carnelian saw Skai sitting where the rootbenches met; Akaisha’s traditional place. Leaning over the pot, Whin ladled some of its contents into a bowl. She held it up to Skai and looked at him through her tears.
‘My heart will ache for you for ever, my little one.’
Carnelian watched as one by one his hearthkin took the bowl, put a little more broth into it and pledged him their love. Then Akaisha told Carnelian it was his turn. He glanced at Whin, at the boy’s parents. He was overcome that they should show no hatred for him on such a terrible day. It was all he could do to manage the ritual without spilling the bowl along with his tears.
Beneath the Crying Tree, the Tribe formed a ring around the five tithe children and the men and women who were to accompany them to the Mountain. Appraising the gathering with a Master’s eye, Carnelian saw a crowd of unkempt savages standing around a brown-leafed tree among the ashes of a dying land. In their midst the tithe children seemed a beggarly tribute to pay the Lords of the Three Lands in Osrakum. Carnelian looked around him at the dark faces and saw their human pain. Shame crushed his false aloofness. It was in his blood, his bones, that he felt the value of what was being given up. These children were flesh torn living from the body of the Tribe. It only took the thought that the following year Poppy would be standing there for him to be suffering with them. He drew her closer to his side.
‘Why is he here?’ cried a woman’s voice.
Harth, pointing at Carnelian, drew the eyes of the Tribe to him. He broke into a sweat and horror. Akaisha clasped his shoulder.
‘As a member of my hearth, Carnie has as much right as any to be here.’
Fern and Sil, holding each other and their baby, both gave him a solemn nod. Whin’s bleak eyes saw nothing but her grandson.
Scowling, Harth looked away. Beside her Crowrane kept his glare fixed on Carnelian but people were turning back to the tithe children.
‘We go, fathers and mothers,’ said the men and women standing beside them. ‘We go, brothers and sisters.’
Those going looked at those remaining and they in turn looked back. Ash floated in the air like infernal snow.
‘Son,’ a father cried and ran in to embrace one of the children. His action released many others. People streamed across the divide; the sound of their grief a winter wind.
Ginkga, her voice none too steady, commanded that they must all face this bravely. The ring re-formed slowly. The sobbing died to a groaning, then to a rocking of heads. Aquar were brought laden with djada, fernroot as well as cone-nuts and the other few luxuries the Tribe had managed to hoard for this day. Solemn-faced, Harth held aloft a loaf of salt which she showed to the Tribe.
‘The blood of our men,’ she said, then wrapped the loaf lovingly in an oiled cloth before handing it to one of the tribute-bearers. A gap appeared in the further curve of the ring and the tributaries moved out through it. The whole Tribe walked with them across the Poisoned Field and down to the Outditch, where the tributaries had to wait for them all to cross. They followed them across the blackened ferngarden to the Newditch and out on to the gold of the plain.
The whole Tribe stood watching as the aquar carrying their tribute took the first steps of their long journey to the distant Mountain. Looking back with tear-striped dusty faces, the children were soon lost beyond a veil of dust.
The Tribe buried their grief in the feverish final preparations for leaving. Carnelian went down with Fern and others
to the djada field to fetch the packs their hearthmates would be carrying on the migration. Poppy aside, the children did not seem haunted by the hearth’s loss and ran around in shrill excitement. Whin and her sisters frowned, but most looked on indulgently, glad these at least they had kept. Carnelian felt people were trying not to look at him.
Most of the cooking pots had been stowed and so that night they had the first meal of what promised to be many of djada washed down with a mouthful of water. The taste brought back to Carnelian memories of his journey from the Guarded Land. These forced Carnelian to confront his feelings for Osidian and what he was doing. Ravan had returned to him that morning. Carnelian shared the Tribe’s desperation to see their young men return safely. All day he had been finding it difficult to stay silent when he saw the accusing looks the Elders were getting from everyone. Time was running out. Osidian must return. It was inconceivable he had not planned for this. There was hope in Ravan’s visit. Surely he had come to bring the Elders some proposal from the Master, but if they had come to any arrangement, they were keeping it to themselves.
He looked for Akaisha in the root fork and found it was empty. He leaned close to Fern.
‘Where’s your mother gone?’
‘Preparing the guardians for the Grove gates.’
‘Guardians?’ Carnelian said, wondering who was being left behind.
‘Huskmen.’
Carnelian rose. ‘Where will I find her?’
Fern pulled him back. ‘Waking the huskmen is a ritual tinged with death and thus dangerous to all but the Elders.’
Carnelian nodded and sat down again. The hearth felt dead without its fire. He was cold and unhappy. Glancing at the packs all lying neatly stowed against the trunk of the mother tree, he realized he was already feeling homesick. He looked up into her branches and smiled. He would miss her and her perfume. Looking down, his eyes met Poppy’s. She looked away sadly, glancing in the direction of the sleeping hollows. Where, Carnelian thought, her own tree lies buried.
The Tribe rose with the sun. Poppy’s face was beautiful in its melancholy. ‘Today we go to the mountains.’
‘To the mountains,’ said Carnelian, searching for Akaisha. He spotted her by the rootstair marshalling the men. He set Poppy to stowing their blankets to keep her out of his way. As he approached Akaisha, the men began filing down the hill. She regarded him with a frown.
‘Where are they going, my mother?’
‘To hitch the aquar to the drag-cradles. You should go and help them.’
‘May I first speak with you?’
Akaisha thought about it. ‘Wait here a moment.’
He watched her go and give some final instructions to the women, then she beckoned him. As he neared her, Sil walked past him avoiding his gaze.
Akaisha watched her move away, then glanced at Carnelian. ‘You two should be better friends.’
Carnelian would have asked Akaisha what she meant but saw she had more important matters to attend to. He accompanied her as she toured the hearth. They checked each sleeping hollow to see nothing had been left behind. Then they moved towards the mother tree and made sure everything had been properly stowed among its trunks. As she strummed ropes and tucked in the corner of a blanket Akaisha mumbled at him. ‘We don’t want to come home and find this stuff all rotted by the rain.’
‘The Master …?’ he began, but the stare she gave him struck him mute.
‘My care is more for the lads he has with him.’
He thought of protesting but saw her mind was only half with him and could not bring himself to speak. Instead, he waited while she busied herself checking what she had already checked before.
She turned to look at him. ‘Will he bring them in?’
Carnelian grew excited. ‘Did he say he would?’
‘My son …’ Her brows creased. ‘Ravan said the Master would on the condition that we should vow not to raise a hand against him. We swore on our mothers’ and our fathers’ bones.’
‘When will they come in?’
’ Akaisha shrugged.
‘Will we wait for them?’
Akaisha flared to anger. ‘We cannot. We dare not consume another day’s water here.’
Carnelian caught her eyes and saw how powerless she felt. So Osidian had won. He saw Akaisha’s need for reassurance.
‘He will come. Even he cannot survive here without water.’ Then, as an afterthought, ‘You have all the water there is.’
She put a warm hand upon his arm. ‘Stay with me.’
They came round the tree and found the women already gone. All that was left was Carnelian’s djada pack with their blankets that Poppy was trying to pick up.
‘What are you doing?’ Carnelian said, walking up to her.
‘I just thought I’d carry it for a bit.’
He laughed. ‘It’s nearly as big as you are.’ He kissed her and hoisted the pack up on to his shoulder; then, giving her his hand, the three of them began walking off towards the rootstair.
Carnelian touched Akaisha’s shoulder. ‘I’ve forgotten something, my mother.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘We’ll wait.’
‘You may as well go on, I’ll soon catch you up.’
Akaisha shrugged, took Poppy’s hand and they set off. Carnelian ran back to his sleeping hollow. Certain they were now well out of sight, he began digging where he and Poppy had buried her mother tree seed. He was despairing of finding it when he felt it in the earth. He lifted it carefully. Though its wing was black and tattered, the seed was still whole. Perhaps one day Poppy might be allowed to grow her mother tree in some garden in Osrakum. He slipped the seed carefully into an inner pocket and then ran towards the rootstair.
Carnelian and Poppy stood with Akaisha by the Lagoongate, watching the aquar go by pulling drag-cradles that sagged under their loads of swollen waterskins.
‘You two can go ahead,’ Akaisha told them. ‘I’m just waiting to seal this gate.’
‘We’ll wait with you if we may, my mother,’ said Carnelian.
He had already counted sixty drag-cradles and he could see an apparently endless line of them stretching off round the Homing under the cedar trees. It was strange to see aquar allowed into the Grove. Even though the morning was still cool, he savoured the comfort of having the canopy over his head.
Carnelian gazed out over the golden plain. ‘No doubt we’ll soon miss this shade.’
‘Be sure of it,’ said Akaisha.
Eventually the last drag-cradle scraped past and they were followed by a party of Elders led by Harth. She gave Carnelian a look of disapproval before addressing Akaisha. ‘What’s he doing here?’
‘Keeping me company.’
Harth looked up at Carnelian. ‘So you believe you’ve beaten us?’
Carnelian did not know what to say.
‘How many times have I told you, Harth: Carnie is on our side.’
Harth gave a snort and moved away. Carnelian saw the other Elders were carrying two jars and, on a drag-cradle, something covered with a blanket. They came through the gate and put everything on the ground. Akaisha closed the gate and then one of the old men dipped his hand in one of the jars and brought it out black and reeking of charcoal. Reaching up, he drew his hand across the gate leaving shiny black daubs on its wicker. Harth did the same with red chalky ochre.
When they were done, the Elders all stood back and began a grumbling incantation. The blanket was pulled back to reveal a bony cadaver of a man, leathery brown, with holes for eyes, his papery lips pulled back from a yellow grin. Carnelian was reminded of nothing as much as one of the Wise he had seen unmasked, which made him shudder. He felt Poppy clutch his arm and slip her body round behind his leg.
‘He can’t harm you,’ he said, gently.
Harth whisked round. ‘He has more power than you might imagine against our enemies.’
Between them, the Elders raised the huskman and propped him up against the gate. Drawing back they began shouting a
t him, arraigning him with the crimes he had committed against the Tribe, promising him that if he should fulfil his duty well and protect their home, one day they would expose him on the summit of the Crag tower and allow his soul to be carried up to Father Sky.
Leaving that wizened sentinel, they wandered under the trees along the Lagooning, walking in the ruts the laden drag-cradles had gouged in the rusty earth. Fern and Sil, with Leaf strapped to her back, were waiting for them by the final gate. All together, they walked across the earthbridge into a world drenched by the gold of the sun. The Tribe and the aquar with their drag-cradles were dark motes beneath a copper sky.
Akaisha and the other Elders moved in among the people dictating the order of their march. Slowly, the aquar were formed up around the people with their burdens. Riders floated in dust clouds further out. With thin warbling cries the Tribe stirred into movement, fading Carnelian’s view of the world behind their dust.
A weaving of withered ferns held the parched earth in thrall. Trees waved flags of scorched leaves at the Ochre as they passed. The herds were gone. Dust spat at them on the torrid breath of the wind. The heat was terrible. With a leaden heart, Carnelian had given up looking for Osidian. Making sure Poppy was well protected, he wrapped the cloth of his uba around his face and bowed his head to protect his eyes from the grit and glare. Blind, he trusted to the feeling in his feet, using the burn of the sun upon his forehead to tell him in which direction their path lay.
‘The lagoon,’ said Fern.
Carnelian looked at the handful of cloudy water-holes. Pointing, Fern undulated his hand and Carnelian saw the faint curves printed on the earth that were the ghosts of the vanished water. He lifted his eyes up to the featureless heat-grey sky and could not believe it would ever rain again. Around him the Tribe were marching across the cracked lagoon bed. Carnelian watched with curiosity as some women brushed the ground with their feet. Youths hung around them keenly waiting.
‘What are they doing?’ he asked Sil.
‘We’ll show you.’
Sil felt the earth with her calloused foot, she smiled and tapped the sand with her heel. Fern fell on his knees and dug where she indicated. Carnelian joined him. The earth had been baked so hard that at first it was like clawing stone. Then it began to soften, grow moist. Fern sat back to watch him.
The Standing Dead (The Stone Dance Of The Chameleon) Page 36