They both turned to see Osidian there. Half his mask blazing in the sun; the other half in murky, glimmering shadow. Carnelian felt compassion for him, but he could not long resist the siren fascination of Osrakum. He turned back to feast his eyes upon her wall.
It was a diamond flash somewhere near the earth that woke them from their trance. Another and another, pulsing in a repeating pattern. A heliograph.
Carnelian turned to Osidian, but realized he was equally unable to read the signal. So he sent Poppy to fetch one of the homunculi. Watching the diamond flicker, something occurred to him. ‘If that’s the next tower…’ Fern was supposed to have been there. Carnelian’s heart faltered from fear of what might have befallen him. Who could be operating the device there?
‘Not the next one, but the one beyond it,’ said Osidian.
Carnelian saw that, indeed, the spine of Fern’s tower rose to the right of and slightly higher than the flashing. ‘What does it mean? Are the Wise trying to contact us?’
Osidian’s mirror face gleamed sinuously as he shook his head. ‘The pattern is too repetitive to carry any complex communication.’ He became stone. ‘My brother is close.’
Carnelian shielded his eyes and scanned the northern horizon. With all the excitement he had forgotten Molochite must be nearby, waiting for them.
The sounds of someone climbing up onto the platform made him put his mask in front of his face before he turned, to see it was Poppy approaching followed by the homunculus. The little man stopped to peer at the flashing.
‘Well?’ barked Osidian at last.
The homunculus flinched and sketched a gesture of apology. ‘I cannot read it, Celestial. The signal is faint, but I have the impression it carries no words.’
‘What then?’ Carnelian said.
The homunculus gestured again. ‘Perhaps some diagnostic.’
‘To check the integrity of the system?’
‘The sandstorms have been blinding the mirrors, Seraph.’
Osidian shifted his weight. ‘Perhaps it seeks to detect any discontinuity.’
Carnelian tensed. ‘They are looking for us.’
‘Homunculus, could we answer it from here?’
The little man knitted his brows. ‘At this distance, Celestial, lucid communication might be difficult.’
Osidian gave a nod. ‘As I thought.’ He turned to Carnelian. ‘My Lord, I will ride to the next tower. Will you bring the army there?’
‘But it could be a trap.’
‘If so then we must scout as far forward into the enemy position as we can. It is critical that it is we who decide when and where we are to give battle.’
Osidian’s mask regarded Carnelian until, reluctantly, he agreed. He made a gesture of thanks and, then, taking the homunculus with him, left the platform. Carnelian lingered, brooding, until he saw, below, Osidian hurtling northwards along the leftway, a clot of Marula flying after him. Carnelian’s heart was heavy with foreboding. He glanced round at the black smudge of the approaching Rains, the ocean of sartlar, and then fixed his gaze upon the glowing Heaven Wall, wondering if this was the calm before the storm.
Rolling with Earth-is-Strong’s ponderous gait, Carnelian sat in his command chair, gazing at Osrakum. As the sun rose higher, it seemed to heat the Sacred Wall into a bar of white-hot gold that branded his vision so that he blinked its ghost whenever he turned away.
At some point the heliograph began to signal again, but this time its beat was complex. He watched the flickering, silent voice and knew Osidian must be holding a conversation, but with whom? The Wise? Molochite? Carnelian feared Osidian might make some mistake. There was even a part of him that feared he might be betraying them all.
‘We shall go no further today, but make a camp here.’
Upon the leftway, Osidian was half in the shadow of a monolith. Dragon towers formed a battlement running back along the road. Carnelian had come up to meet him the moment he had arrived. He had climbed up through the stable levels frowning. This was watch-tower sun-nine. There were only eight more between them and Osrakum.
‘What has happened?’
‘Under my promise of safe passage, the Wise are coming here to conclave with us.’
THE COMING OF THE WISE
Each of the Chosen can be considered as a two-pronged blood-fork lying in the flow of time. Upstream, the tines connect to the blood-taint nodes of the parents. The handle extends downstream the length of the lifespan and terminates at the death node. Of the other temporal nodes, the most significant are those of conception and birth. The node of conception locates the meeting of the prongs and handle. The birth node lies approximately nine months further downstream. These five nodes constitute the critical input into the astrological calculus.
(extract from a beadcord manual of the Wise of the Domain Blood)
Blots of shadow, their palanquins in the dusk. Along the leftway they came in a sombre procession. Preceded by a dense formation of guardsmen encased in articulated green bronze; one side of whose faces appeared the crystallization of the darkening east. Cruel billhooks and halberds in their hands. Cloaks merging so that they seemed borne forward on billows of tar smoke. The palanquins seemed to float upon the silver stream of their ammonites’ masks.
Carnelian had not seen Sinistral Ichorians since he had quit the Halls of Thunder in Osrakum. As they filed past he could smell the sweat that was causing the densely tattooed half of their bodies to gleam like polished leather. The lead palanquin swayed as it approached and he saw it was not black as he had imagined, but midnight purple. The front ranks of ammonites swinging censers wove thick garlands of myrrh into the air. Carnelian watched as the palanquin settled to the ground upon silver legs in the form of infants.
For two days he and Osidian had waited. They had decided Carnelian would greet their guests. A pair of ammonites now approached bearing a ladle in whose cup blue fire danced. Drawing the device back, they swung it forward to release its contents in a sheet. The fire spread its blue and violet flame across the stone, turning it black as it died. Through the myrrh smoke Carnelian saw a panel in the side of the palanquin sliding open just enough to allow a pale, gloved hand to put out two high ranga. The panel opened more and two childlike feet emerged seeking the shoes. A shape encrusted in purple brocade was soon standing there, its silver sleeping-child face allowing Carnelian to see a warped reflection of something else stirring within the palanquin. The homunculus reached in and fetched out two more ranga which were fully a third of its height. Once these were set up, the little man gave a nod. Two pairs of ammonites appeared, each bearing between them a staff that blossomed high above their heads into silver spirals like the croziers of some frozen fern. Two gloved hands emerged from the palanquin to take hold of these staves, then two long feet sheathed in ivory silk slipped into the high ranga. A vast rustling dark shape rose immense upon the ranga, its face the long, shield-like, single-eyed mask of one of the Wise. The ammonites knelt. The Sapient released his hold upon the croziers, extended a four-fingered hand to its homunculus and allowed himself to be guided forward like an aged grandfather by his grandson. As the Sapient loomed over him, Carnelian tried not to be awed. He saw the panels of beadwork that formed the slopes of the Sapient’s robe. He could smell the dusty pungency of ancient myrrh.
‘Are you a Grand Sapient?’
The homunculus removed its master’s gloves and raised one pale hand to its neck. The other hand rose on its own. Eight colourless fingers meshed around its throat. It murmured. The fingers flexed.
‘I am only a Second of Lands,’ the homunculus sang. ‘You are not the Lord Nephron.’
‘He awaits your masters upon the summit of this tower.’
‘Prepare it,’ intoned the homunculus.
Ammonites fluttered past like a flock of startled crows. Most disappeared behind the monolith into the tower. The Sapient began a stately progress in that direction and Carnelian made to follow. The Sapient halted and turned an eyeless prof
ile. Carnelian felt the need to explain himself. ‘I am to attend the meeting.’
The Sapient’s blank face hung motionless for some moments, then with one hand he reached for the homunculus’ neck and his fingers made a burst of frenzy. ‘Then you will have to be cleansed, Seraph.’
Carnelian had a protest on his lips, but the Sapient was already slipping behind the monolith and so he followed him. The chamber within glowed violet as tiny flames scurried over every surface. Carnelian’s cloak was pulled off him. Reacting to this, he was suddenly enveloped by smoke. The chamber reeled. More Sapients appeared through the doorway, overseeing the pale chrysalises of capsules being carried in. Carnelian observed with what quick hands the ammonites hitched these up to hooks. Soon the capsules were rising into the watch-tower.
The sky had darkened enough to reveal a moon that was the merest rind of ice. The fire that had rained violet sparks down through the grating had left only its shadow soot. Three capsules rose like pillars of salt. Before each stood two Sapients, their homunculi in front of them. Carnelian glanced at Osidian, who alone had refused the cleansing. Censers in a ring around them all were growing a hedge of myrrh smoke. Silently the Sapients raised pale hands to the capsules, whose ivory made their skin seem whiter than the nearly eclipsed moon. The Sapients pulled the lids back and knelt before their masters within. Three Grand Sapients, masked, their arms crossed upon their chests, their homunculi, also masked, standing in place between their legs. One of each pair of Sapients rose to hold a staff up before his master. Carnelian started as the homunculi within the capsules took hold of these staves. Each held a finial of ruby fire before the chest of its Grand Sapient as if it were his heart freshly gouged out for display. The pale spiders of the Grand Sapients’ fingers began to writhe. Pale petals opening and closing. Gestures that were bringing life back into sleep-frozen limbs. Until, at last, they reached down to sensuously strangle the throats of their homunculi.
‘We are Law,’ said the leftmost one.
‘Tribute,’ said the homunculus on the right.
‘Lands,’ sang the one in the centre.
‘What do you hope to gain, Celestial, by taking up arms against the Commonwealth?’ said Law, to which the other two Grand Sapient homunculi murmured an echo.
Osidian fixed the sightless masks of the Grand Sapients with an expression Carnelian could not read. ‘To put right a wrong.’
‘Though you have cause to be aggrieved, Celestial, what has been done cannot be undone. The moment the rituals were completed, your brother was made. They and your life became forfeit without hope of appeal. In your desperation to preserve yourself you have wilfully precipitated a calamity greatly disproportionate to your grievance. The Balance of the Powers is fractured. The Law so closely bound to it is in peril of dissolution. Have you forgotten that the Law is the foundation upon which stands the Commonwealth? Without Law, Chaos is lord. Your brother has escaped Osrakum. Even now, given time, we shall subdue Them with those pleasures that They have demonstrated They are slave to. Your apparent futile intention to challenge Them in battle will only serve to make Them more uncontrollable. All you will achieve is to further imperil the Balance.’
Osidian’s eyes were eagle sharp. ‘What do I care for your Balance? Do you imagine, my Lord, that I grieve with the jailors from whom my House has managed to break free? As for the foundation of the Commonwealth, that is terror. What we hold’ – Osidian extended his hands as if he held the world in them – ‘we hold through power and because to rule is our divine right. Raw power is the law that all must obey.’ His hands came apart in a gesture of disdain. He half turned away, snarling, then fixed the Grand Sapients with a baleful eye. ‘And I would advise my Lords not to make the error of assuming we are already defeated.’
The three homunculi mumbled on, then fell silent. Carnelian became aware of the oceanic murmur of the sartlar who inhabited the dark vastness of the land beneath.
‘It is true, Celestial, the Commonwealth has also for foundations terror.’ The homunculus who spoke was the one who had identified its master as Tribute. The Grand Sapient’s fingers were working at its throat. ‘But by your statement you must surely realize that the Commonwealth exists only in the minds of men. What power to coerce the Chosen possess is itself in the minds of their subjects. The Commonwealth is, in truth, only a dream given solidity by belief. We have made our dream the universal dream but, at the margins of the world, our dream competes with others. You must realize this who have dwelt among the barbarians. Did you not impose your dream upon those creatures, Celestial, in opposition to the Commonwealth?’
Carnelian saw the truth of it and, glancing round, saw Osidian’s certainty weakening.
‘Why do you think it is we bring them here to the centre of the world? Even now they are gathering in ever increasing numbers before the gates of Osrakum. Why do you think, Celestial, we seek to bring them into the very heart of the Hidden Land?’
The question hung bright in Carnelian’s mind. He saw the answer. ‘To show them the dream in all its terrible, beautiful reality.’
The homunculus continued as if Carnelian had not spoken. ‘Because monolithic power seen close up will tower over them. Far away, its terror fades. In its presence, it saturates their minds. Witnessing our grandeur, they are reduced to nothing. How can their petty dreams hope to withstand such glory, such wonder?’
The vision in Carnelian’s mind faded more slowly than the sonorous voice.
‘And yet, Celestial, at this very time, you intend to show that power, that glory, divided against itself. At the very moment we have designed for them to see the Commonwealth as immutable as the stars in the heavens, you would show them contention.’
Carnelian felt like a child, made aware of how petty were his notions, how foolish. Osidian, too, looked crushed. Carnelian felt panic seeping into him. Had they fooled themselves? Had he led them both into error?
Osidian’s voice shocked Carnelian. ‘They shall see the Gods Themselves and the seraphim making war.’ Osidian had returned from his depths possessed. ‘By this display of power they will be more cowed than all your subtle theatre could hope to achieve.’ Fury burned in his eyes. ‘What have we to fear from being observed quarrelling? Do the sun and moon fear the vermin that crawl upon the earth as they contend for mastery of the sky?’
Carnelian looked to the Grand Sapients to see if Osidian’s words had made any impact on them. Their three identical eyeless masks hung in the darkness, implacable, unyielding. Grand Sapient Lands’ fingers began to move. ‘You have interfered with my management of the Land. Because of you the harvests have not been gathered. The fields, unirrigated, turn to dust. Already it is too late to avoid a famine.’
‘You hope to appeal to my compassion?’ Osidian’s tone was incredulous, his lips twisted into a sneer. ‘What is it to me if a few barbarians starve?’
‘Not a few, Celestial, but most of the Commonwealth will suffer hunger.’
Osidian swung his arm in an arc to take in the land below. ‘Am I a child, Lands? Though the number of sartlar we have gathered is vast, I know that they are but a scoop from the ocean of those that remain upon the land.’
Once the murmuring of the homunculi ceased, Carnelian was aware of the Grand Sapient’s fingers faltering. They came alive again. ‘Even now the sartlar of several provinces are coming in response to your summons.’
The sneer grew thin on Osidian’s lips. He frowned. ‘Several provinces?’ The homunculi gave his words a ghostly echo. Osidian looked at Carnelian, the question an accusation in his eyes. Carnelian could make no sense of it himself. ‘I only put into action the same process that yearly brings sartlar to repair the roads.’
The murmurous homunculi became a background to Osidian’s questions, to which Carnelian provided the best answers he could.
Lands’ homunculus interrupted. ‘The summons was yours, Suth Carnelian?’
Wrathful, Osidian replied. ‘He told me he did it in response to a dre
am.’ He seemed to draw strength from his own anger and perhaps, Carnelian thought, from the feeling that the Grand Sapients had lost their stranglehold on the discussion. ‘A dream that promised me victory. The God has Himself promised me this.’
Lands choked his homunculus quiet before it had finished relaying Osidian’s words. ‘Do not delude yourself, Celestial: victory is impossible. Already twenty legions are ranged against you and more arrive each day. Return to the Southern Plain. There you can have a domain beyond the knowledge of the Chosen. If we have erred it is in having disrupted your empire among the barbarians. Return. We shall send you any luxuries that you desire.’
Osidian’s face was childish in its utter outrage. ‘Do you imagine my ambition so small? That I would be satisfied being a sovereign among vermin?’
Carnelian gazed in wonder at Osidian. It seemed that at any moment he was going to break into tears. Then he saw the rage rising. Osidian’s face hardened. ‘I will take back what is mine.’ His voice like extruding glass. ‘Though I was cast out of Osrakum, I shall enter her by force if need be. However mighty the host my brother brings against me, I will vanquish him and then, my Lords, you shall kneel to me.’
The Grand Sapients seemed as unstung by the venom as if already dead.
‘Then we have failed,’ said Lands. ‘You will be destroyed. In your fall will be encompassed much of what we have built, but we are patience incarnate. With time we shall rebuild everything as before.’
Rage was burning Osidian up. He bared his teeth. ‘What if I was to slay you here, now? What then for your reconstruction?’
The Grand Sapient actually shrugged in his capsule. An incongruous sight. ‘What you see before you is merely three branches. The tree remains beyond your reach. To stop us you would have to uproot us all.’
Osidian bowed his head and Carnelian watched the fight leach out of him.
‘We shall depart immediately,’ said the homunculus. ‘It would be better if instructions be given below that none are to impede us.’
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