The mass of his body swung round and Carnelian could see the hand held out in the firelight. He approached it. On the palm there was something like a hole. He reached out and took it. It was hard and warm. A ring of iron. A blood-ring that entitled him to cast votes in the elections of the Masters. He turned it in the firelight. Around the band's edge were the raised glyphs for his names and the spots and bars of numbers.
'He was given it by the Wise who had it set aside for you.' He gave his son a tender look that Carnelian did not see. The ring had him wholly in its spell. Its symbols were in mirrored form so that it could be used as a seal with both ink and wax. The eleven numbers confirmed the fractional tainting of his blood. He knew that it should be put on the smallest finger of the right hand. As the right hand signified the world of light so its smallest finger signified purity. It was too big.
There is no time for proper ritual. Even the preliminaries take many days. But there is much that is not essential. It is the Examination and the Rite of Blood that are the very nub and core of it.'
Carnelian looked up warmly at his father, then froze when he saw Aurum's face floating beyond his father's shoulder. Turning round he saw that Vennel was there too, his pupils the merest spots, and Jaspar with his idolic smile. Carnelian felt betrayed, as if his father had led him into an ambush.
Suth saw the change come across his son's face and said quickly, 'Witnesses are essential.'
The Masters circled Carnelian like sleek predators.
'Shall we begin?' said Aurum. His voice reverberated round the chamber. 'Lord Jaspar, it might please you to read the rings.'
Jaspar gave a little bow and accepted something from Aurum's hand.
The blood-rings of the Lord Suth and of his Lady wife, now long expired,' said Aurum. He turned to Vennel. 'Perhaps, my Lord, you would care to read the scars.'
'My hands do not have the seeing of the Wise.'
'Nevertheless, my Lord, we wish to be certain of impartiality, is that not so?'
'Oh, very well!'
Vennel began to move round behind Carnelian who, alarmed, turned to keep the Master in sight.
'Keep still, my son,' his father said.
Carnelian stopped turning and felt Vennel come up behind him.
The robe must be opened for your taint scars to be read as proof of your parentage.'
Carnelian fought a grimace as he felt the robe begin to slip off as Vennel undid the hooks down his back. He hunched his shoulders so that the robe would not fall to the ground.
'Exquisite,' he heard Jaspar say.
He closed his eyes. His perception was all in the skin of his back. He could not suppress a shudder when he felt Vennel's hands on him. Fingers sliding down the right of his spine, feeling the bumps and ridges that had been put there by the Wise at his birth, with a scarring comb.
'Zero, zero… three, aaah…' Vennel was reading out his father's blood-taint, 'fifteen, ahhm… nineteen, another fifteen.. . ten… two, no, three, now two, a final ten.'
'Is that what is inscribed on Lord Suth's ring?' asked Aurum.
'Exactly,' said Jaspar.
Carnelian felt the fingers lift away. He waited, grimacing. Vermel's hand was there again, to the left of his spine.
'Zero, zero, zero, two, one… three… nineteen, aaah… nine, six… teen, aaah… seventeen and a final… ten.'
The eleven fractions of his mother's taint. 'Confirmed,' said Jaspar. 'You can do the boy up, Vennel.' 'I certainly shall not. Am I now to become a body slave?'
'I will do it, my Lords,' said Suth.
Carnelian's shoulder was squeezed and the robe quickly hooked up. He turned and glared at the other Masters. Vennel was rubbing his hands as if he had touched something unclean. Jaspar was smiling. Aurum was as impassive as marble.
The Rite of Blood,' he said.
He came towards him until Carnelian was enveloped in his odour of lilies. He held out a vast leaf of a hand. An oval bowl lay along the palm, of jade so thin it might have been water.
This is the edge of the night,' intoned his father. Carnelian saw that his left hand held a razor of obsidian like a mussel shell. It sliced into the palm of his other hand. The cut beaded blood all along its length. The bowl in Aurum's hand was there to catch each drop.
Thou art my son, dewed from my flesh, Chosen. The ichor of the Two will burn thy veins; the same that once gushed from the Turtle's rending.' His father dipped his finger in the bowl. 'With this fire I anoint thee. In the names of He-whose-face-is-spiralling-jade.' He daubed a vertical stroke upon Carnelian's forehead. 'In the unspoken names of He-whose-face-is-the-mirror-in-the-night.' Dipping his finger once more, his father applied a second stroke beside the first.
Then Aurum's hand offered Carnelian the bowl. He stared at it, not knowing what it was he was supposed to do.
'Drink now thy father's blood that its fire might ignite thine to its own… fierce… burning,' said Aurum.
When Carnelian took the bowl he could not avoid touching the Master's stone skin. He looked up at his face. It seemed fashioned from dead bone with only two points of living light. Carnelian resisted its menace and drained the bowl with a single gulp, grimacing at the metal taste.
'On this day thou art come of age,' his father said.
Truly thou art chosen a Lord of the Hidden Land,' the others chanted, then they glimmered away like a tide on a moonless night leaving Carnelian angry, amazed, uneasy that he was now fully one of them.
'Soon the fire will begin its burning in your veins,' sang Vennel.
'Some days it will course like naphtha in a flame-pipe,' Aurum growled.
'It is one of the myriad burdens that we bear,' said Jaspar.
The price that must be paid for near divinity,' said Aurum. .'Nothing is without cost,' said Vennel.
Suth allowed his hand to brush Carnelian's. 'Yet, for many years, I have felt no burning.'
'How so?' said Vennel, his eyes frost.
Suth shrugged. 'Perhaps so far from its source its vigour fades.'
'Perhaps,' said Aurum. 'Perhaps.'
Tell me, my Lord Suth…' said Vennel.
Suth raised his eyebrows.
'Why did you have us perform this ritual here and now?'
'My son was past his time, and we had the ring here…'
'Aaah, the ring. My Lord Aurum was so thoughtful to remember to bring the ring. But still, are you sure that the Wise will consider it valid?'
The ritual had my Lords as witness,' said Suth.
'Are we qualified?'
'Our journey will be perilous. The awakening of his blood might afford my son some protection.'
Vermel nodded sagely. 'I see. And I suppose this coming of age could have nothing to do with the fact that the Lord Carnelian is now entitled to cast his twenty votes.'
'I do not entirely comprehend your meaning, my Lord.'
'My meaning, Great Lord, is that with your son and one other of us,' he glanced at Aurum, 'you can henceforth determine every decision that we make in formal conclave.'
That presupposes that my son will always choose to vote with me.'
'My Lord,' Carnelian said. His stomach knotted when his father turned towards him. 'My Lord, this conflict is unnecessary since I have decided that I shall stay with our household and follow after. It is for the best. I could be nothing but an encumbrance to you.'
His father's face hardened. He turned to the others. 'Great Lords, it would seem that I have need to talk with my son. It would be unforgivable that we should presume so much upon your patience, my Lords, as to expect you to stand by while we resolve a matter internal to our House. The baran is ready now. If the wind be not against us we shall depart on the morrow. I am sure my Lords must have numerous arrangements to make.'
Vennel looked amused. Jaspar looked uncharacteristically serious. He stepped forward. 'Lord Suth, your rings.' Carnelian watched his father take them.
'Perhaps, Sardian, I should stay,' said Aurum, his eyes like evening sky.<
br />
Carnelian stared, startled by the use of his father's personal name.
'I would rather you did not, my Lord.' He was threading his blood-ring back onto his finger.
Aurum stood for a moment, then turned away. He and the other Masters drifted off towards the door like tall ships. Carnelian watched them to put off facing his father's anger. He could feel it beating upon his back like a scorching wind. The last of the Masters disappeared through the door. It closed.
Round the circuit of the chamber the shutters rattled. Twigs snapped in the fire and jiggled up a spray of sparks. Carnelian's forehead itched. He was determined to brave the heat of his father's fury. He turned. His father's face seemed cut from polished stone.
'Why did you feel it necessary, my Lord, to defy me before our guests?' his father asked in a quiet voice.
'I had made my decision and would inform you of it.'
'And no doubt you thought that if you spoke it in the presence of the other Lords you would ensure that my response should be constrained?'
Carnelian drooped. Though there were several reasons, my Lord, I am ashamed to say that was one of them.'
Tell me, my son, of this decision you have made.'
Carnelian looked up and saw his father's face had softened. 'Our people and the famine that will come here once the baran is gone – it is a betrayal, my Lord, that we should leave them here to face it all, alone.'
'But, Carnelian, they live to serve us. Besides, I have put into motion certain policies that might somewhat reduce the severity of their need.'
'Nevertheless, I would stay. I cannot find it in my heart to abandon Ebeny, but to mention one of them. Our people will miss your rule, my Lord, and though I would not presume to suggest I could replace you, I might provide some measure of compensation. The sight of a Master sharing their privations will give them hope, and hope is the mother of strength.'
'Ebeny is a stubborn woman. I will command her to come with us. I am leaving Grane to rule here in my stead and, without too much offending you, my Lord, I would suggest that it is evident that he would do it better than you. As for this notion of yours to share their privations, have you completely taken leave of your senses? You would choose to sink yourself down to their level? Do you forget who and what you are, my Lord? Where is your pride?'
'I have pride, my Lord, and because of it the feelings of duty that you taught-'
'It seems I have taught you badly. I blame myself. Too long have I made myself blind to your familiarity with our slaves. Perhaps indeed I have shared in it. Being so far from Osrakum we have sunk into a mire of barbarism. It should come as no surprise to me. But that you should dare to speak to me of your feelings of duty to my slaves. Do I hear you speak of your feelings of duty to your father and your blood? Is my blood to be so traduced in you? Does that ring you newly wear mean so little to you, my Lord?'
Suth had become a tower of wrath but Carnelian squared up to him. 'Your blood I cannot give back to you, but this…' He pulled off the blood-ring. This trinket you can take back to Osrakum or hurl in the sea for all I care, for I see that in the receiving of it I have acquired nothing.' He stopped. In the vibrating silence his father seemed to have narrowed to a blade.
'You will put that ring back on.' The tone was level, dangerous. Suth lifted up his hand. Upon it were several rings, but above his blood-ring was another, the Ruling Ring of House Suth. Its black adamant was forced into the centre of Carnelian's vision. 'While I still wear this,' the level voice continued, 'I will be obeyed within the borders of my House. Tomorrow you will leave with me, my Lord. The only choice you have is whether you shall walk down to the baran or be carried. Reconcile yourself, my Lord, for you will cross the sea with me.'
THE BLACK SHIP
They'll sew the black sail
Then we'll leave our dear land
For we've heard the voice of the sea.
(sea-shanty: amber trade route)
Frosty cobbles sparked with moonlight. Carnelian stood where the arcade had once been. Ghostly edges defined the column stumps in the blackness of the Great Hall. He turned round to survey the Long Court where the cauldrons lay abandoned. One had rolled over and spilt its lumps and liquids as an inky puddle. The walls behind were pocked with the dead eyes of window holes. Such were the ruins of his home.
Breath-clouds blossoming on either side of him made him remember his escort. It was bitterly cold.
Lamps stood in opposite corners of the room. Tain was hunched over a chest. Carnelian watched him for a while. His brother was sorting through his robes. He held one up and turned it into the light. He grunted, rolled it up and threw it onto a pile.
'Packing?' asked Carnelian, trying to sound matter-of-fact.
Tain whisked round. 'By the horns! Are you trying to kill me creeping up on me like that?' But then he saw Carnelian standing there like a tree, with his cold gold face. He bit his lip.
Swiftly, Carnelian reached up, unfastened his mask and dropped it into his hand. He did it before Tain had a chance to 'Master' him. He lurched forward. 'Here, let me help.' He tried to bend down but the robe's tightness resisted him.
Tain stood up. 'Come on. Let's get you out of that thing. Is it as uncomfortable as it looks?'
'Worse,' said Carnelian, and grinned.
Tain quickly undid the hooks and released him from the ritual robe. Naked, shivering, Carnelian threw on some of his old clothes. He sighed with pleasure. They were so comfortable, so familiar. 'I feel more like myself.'
'And you look more like yourself.'
'About earlier. I didn't mean to-'
'Don't worry, Carnie, I understand.'
'I wanted to stay too, but the Master has forbidden it. You'll come with me though, won't you?'
'Do I have any choice?'
Carnelian gave him a ragged smile.
'I see. I'm going whether I want to or not. If it makes you feel better, I'd go with you anyway.'
Carnelian reached out and pulled him into a hug.
Tain looked sheepish. 'My mother'd never forgive me if I didn't. Someone has to look after you.' He turned away. 'Come on, let's get this packing done. Or were those just words?'
They weren't,' said Carnelian cheerily.
They talked well into the night about the long summers of their childhoods, of the autumns when the trees turned gold, flamed red then were left black and naked. They recounted often-told anecdotes about the people they loved and found them freshly funny. Each gave the other reassurances: that the food would last, that it would really not be all that long before the household was together again in the Mountain. Wherever their talk went it always came back to the Mountain, Osrakum. Her dark alluring wonder lay heavy in the centre of their thoughts. Thus, journeying far away on imagination's wings, they found that they could leave their grief behind. Off into their dreams they soared, like gulls tumbling from a cliff into the wind. For Tain it was dragons. All his life he had longed to see dragons. Some people in the Hold swore they had seen them, had felt them shake the earth. His mother Ebeny had stood beneath one but was reluctant to talk about it. For Carnelian it was the home his father had spoken of, that lay in the crater of Osrakum beside the waters of the Skymere. As he spoke in a kind of rapture, he became aware that Tain no longer answered him. He sat up and saw that his brother lay with the faintest of smiles on his sleeping mouth.
Carnelian was alone. As he lay back, the vision darkened, contracting down to the black ship outside with her distending belly. Most of what brought warmth and comfort to his people she had consumed. Tomorrow he and his father would go down too and she would have eaten everything. He ached for his old life. He begged for sleep, but the night was merciless.
They were woken by the rapping on the door. A voice cried something on the other side. Carnelian sat up, confused. The voice cried out again.
'It's time to leave,' said Tain from somewhere nearby. He sounded surprised. He coaxed a light into being.
Carnelian squinte
d through his fingers at him bustling round the room. 'Yesterday, the Master sent this and that for this morning.' His brother was holding a jar and pointing at a bundle on the floor.
Carnelian rose and braved the cold. Tain pulled something on then came back and started cleaning him. 'It'll not be long now,' he said as he felt Carnelian's body shudder. He broke open the wax seal on the new jar and stirred the stuff inside. 'It's thicker than the usual paint and apparently proof against the sea air.' He began to apply it in wet strokes of chalky white.
'It smells disgusting.' Carnelian was still only half awake.
After he was finished, Tain produced some old clothes.
'I'm really to wear these?' said Carnelian.
Tain shrugged. The Master sent nothing other than the jar and the cloak.'
They finished dressing him. Tain shook out the cloak like a billow of tar smoke. He threw it over Carnelian, then did up its belts, managing to hoist it up so that only a little of it would drag upon the ground. He nodded sagely. 'You could be wearing anything under it and nobody'd be any the wiser.'
'At least it's warm,' said Carnelian, and pulled the hood over his head. Tain's clothing was flimsy by comparison. Carnelian went into a corner and came back with his gull-feather cloak. 'Wear this, Tain, it'll be better than that rag.' His brother put it on, protested that it was far too big but was clearly delighted.
There was another rap at the door. Tain went to see who it was. He came back. 'Well, this is it, Carnie.' He looked very young, very grave. They've come for our things and I'm to go with them… onto the ship.'
'We'll go together.' Carnelian put on his mask and stood by the wall, out of the light, as Tain let in the bearers. When he saw they were his people he came out of the shadows.
'Master,' they cried and fell flat on the floor.
'Oh, for the Gods' sake, get up.' Carnelian took his mask off and scowled at them. They gave him watery smiles and then started picking up the bundles.
Carnelian and Tain followed them out. Every door they passed was closed. There were no sounds other than the scuffling of their feet. Carnelian was glad. He was feeling numb enough already and could not bear any tearful farewells. 'Better to just get it over with,' he muttered. The face Tain turned to him was wooden.
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