Fire is the heart of living.
'Where are you going?' asked Carnelian as he saw Osidian begin to move towards the steps that led down from the Ancestor House.
Osidian half turned. 'Away from this filthy hovel.'
'Fern's mother asked us to wait here.'
Osidian's face distorted with rage. 'Since when do the Chosen obey savages?'
Carnelian saw a guard coming up the steps, looking at them uncertainly, a spear ready in his hands. When Osidian swung round, the man flinched. The spear lowered to point at Osidian's chest in reaction to him advancing on the guard. Carnelian could see the man's narrow-eyed fear and the way he was adjusting and readjusting his grip on the spear.
'Let me pass,' Osidian growled in Vulgate.
'I must stop you descending,' the man said, in Ochre, and threw a nervous glance down to where one of his companions was mounting the steps to his aid.
Osidian looked back at Carnelian. 'What did the creature say?'
'He has been commanded to bar our descent.'
'Has he indeed,' Osidian said, turning the menace of his face on the guards, both of whose spears were now questing for his throat.
'Osidian!' cried Carnelian.
Behind him the muttering of the Assembly faltered. Osidian seemed intent on throwing himself upon the guards. Carnelian saw their flint blades and how narrow were the steps, how high the fall. He lunged forward and took hold of Osidian's upper arms and pulled him back.
'Release me,' Osidian hissed as he struggled.
Carnelian held on, cursing.
'Let me go,' bellowed Osidian.
Voices were speaking behind him but Carnelian ignored them. Osidian pulled and almost broke free. For a moment Carnelian believed Osidian was going to be dashed upon the ground below.
'Do you want to die?'
Osidian sagged back into Carnelian, who embraced him. Osidian turned within the circle of his arms and looked at him with infinite sadness.
'What is there left to live for?'
Carnelian looked deep into his eyes. 'You still have me.'
He became aware of the dark faces staring and felt naked under their gaze. He did not know what tongue he and Osidian had been speaking but was certain the two guards could see the way it was between them. Osidian looked as vulnerable as a child. Carnelian became aware Galewing was regarding them from the doorway of the Ancestor House.
'He's still weak… illness… I'll look after him,' he said, in the Ochre tongue.
The Elder ducked back behind the leather curtain. His hand still clasping Osidian's arm, Carnelian's attention returned to the guards. The smile he gave them caused them even more confusion. His gaze scaled to the heights.
He looked for and found steps climbing from the porch to the summit of the Crag.
'Can we go up there?' Carnelian asked the guards in Ochre.
They looked startled, uncertain, so Carnelian made the decision for them. He coaxed Osidian towards the steps and gently urged him to climb. Careless of his own safety, he shadowed Osidian with his hands all the way up, terrified he might miss a step.
The summit was windblown and scorching in the sun. Even with the uba covering most of his face, Carnelian had to squint. The place was more extensive than he had expected: an uneven floor of blocks and cracks and shadows. Three men were sitting on a promontory. One of them rose, staring at him. Soon all were staring.
'Lookouts,' said Carnelian indicating them with a jutting of his chin. 'See the beacon ready to be lit.'
Osidian was gazing out over the plain, turning slowly as if searching for something. Carnelian allowed his sight to soar. A vast sky fell into a single encircling, melting horizon. Trees danced in the heat. He saw the mirrors of lagoons, the ragged drifts of herds. The curves of the two outer ditches were betrayed by their borders of magnolias. At his feet, smoke was rising through chinks in the cedar canopy.
Carnelian turned to Osidian. They are better organized than one might have expected of barbarians,' he said, hoping to encourage a more optimistic outlook on their situation.
They merely ape the Chosen,' said Osidian. 'How so?'
'Can you not see this place is marked out in the form of a wheelmap or a legionary camp?'
Carnelian looked again and saw the three concentric ditches: the outer two each containing a swathe of land divided by the crooked spokes of smaller ditches into ferngardens; the third the grove of cedars on the koppie hill. If the first were the Outer Lands and the second the Guarded Land, then the hill and stone upon which he stood would represent Osrakum. The sight of these fortifications forced through his hope the bleak awareness that he and Osidian were Masters powerless among people who had every reason to hate them. His eyes fell on the ivory roof of the Ancestor House, in which their fate was being decided by the Elders. What would they do to Fern? Surely his mother, Akaisha, would be able to protect him. Carnelian recalled the look of need in her eyes. Tiny figures were moving through the inner ferngardens. Faint voices drifted up from the cedar grove; bright laughter and the smells of cooking. Had this really been Ebeny's childhood home? Even the possibility warmed his heart a little.
He turned to Osidian. 'You know, Ebeny, my nurse? It seems certain to me she came from this tribe. Of all the koppies, that we should end up here…' Carnelian shook his head in wonder.
Osidian was looking at him as if he were listening to an echo.
Carnelian smiled remembering her. 'In my heart, she is my mother.'
Osidian's lips curved into a sneer. 'When will you realize, Carnelian, these sensibilities are an affectation? You are Chosen. Your persistent desire to hide from what you are is a delusion I find increasingly repulsive.'
Fear that Osidian might be right only made Carnelian despise his cold Master's face. 'Do you know, Imago Jaspar once said something very similar to me.'
At the sound of that name, Osidian's face became as rigid as a mask, but Carnelian did not care. He delved inside himself for the truth of what he felt and was sure his love for Ebeny was real.
'Besides,' he said, burning up in her defence, 'it is perhaps those very sensibilities that might secure sanctuary for us here.'
Osidian's face sagged. 'Here? How can you expect me to live here?’
Seeing the distress bleeding out of him, Carnelian could not sustain his anger. He remembered who Osidian had been. He remembered the pressure he had put on Osidian to go with him to the Yden one last time before the Wise made him God Emperor. Despair soaked through his confidence. He tried to rally.
'Even if we care nothing for ourselves, there are others we cannot abandon.'
'Your precious half-caste, for example?'
Carnelian was stunned. 'You mean Fern? That half-caste saved your life not once, but many times.'
'Do you hope to blind me by throwing that in my face? Do not play me for a fool, Carnelian, I have seen the way you two look at each other.'
Osidian's bitter words struck Carnelian like blows. 'I don't…' He shook his head. 'I really don't know what you are talking about.'
Osidian shrugged, then went seeking a shadow in which he might find refuge from the sun.
Carnelian was dozing in the shade when he heard a scuffle of feet approaching. Sitting up, he saw it was Fern with Akaisha, Harth and some other woman Elders. Carnelian nudged Osidian awake and rose to face them. He tried to read Fern's face. As their eyes meshed, Carnelian could not help considering what Osidian had said. Fern gave him a brave smile that was hiding some pain.
Harth stepped forward. 'You understand my words?' Concerned for Fern, Carnelian gave her a nod even as he realized Osidian had not bothered to get up.
'We have decided to postpone our decision as to what we are going to do with you. In the meantime, Mother Akaisha has offered to keep you in her hearth. You will be under her authority. The first time you disobey her you will both be put to death. What do you say?'
Carnelian glanced at Fern, then at Akaisha, who was searching his face as if she were looking for a sign.
From the sour look on Harth's face, Carnelian deduced it was Akaisha who had bought them a reprieve. 'Will the Tribe accept this arrangement?'
Harth raised an eyebrow. The Elders have accepted it. We are the Tribe.'
Halfway round the Crag, Akaisha took a rootstair down into the mottled shade of the cedar grove. Fern was giving her news of Ravan.
'He should have appeared at the hearth before you went to the Assembly.'
A shake of his mother's head made him scowl. She reached out to take his arm. 'Most likely he fears my grief.'
She half turned her head. 'We're nearly there.'
Carnelian nodded, but his attention was on a group of people under a nearby tree who had stopped everything to watch them pass.
'It is considered impolite to stare into another's hearth,' said Akaisha and looked surprised when he apologized.
Some children began following them, daring each other to run in close to the white giants. Osidian frowned, studiously ignoring their dash and screaming flight, until Akaisha turned on them. Her scolding sent them scuttling for cover. The gurgles of their furtive laughter made Carnelian smile and remember his own childhood.
'We're here,' said Fern gloomily, stepping from the stair onto the hillside.
A cedar spread its branches above them. Its trunk was the centre of the arc they walked, crossing the radiating ridges of its roots. Carnelian heard squeals of delight and saw some children chasing each other in and out of the shade. Ahead, Akaisha seemed to catch fire as she reached a space unroofed by the tree. Carnelian approached, narrowing his eyes against the dazzle. He stumbled over a root that ran across his path. He could smell the smoke but it was too bright to see the flames. As Carnelian's eyes adjusted, he saw a woman standing with two boys at the edge of the long, oval clearing.
'Whin, these Standing Dead are to be our guests for a while,' Akaisha said.
She turned to Carnelian. This is Whin, a daughter of my hearth who, next to me, is the nearest to the roots of our mother tree.'
Whin was possibly forty, though her weathered skin looked older. She regarded the Standing Dead with a severe face. To avoid her eyes, Carnelian looked at the boys, who were also staring, their cheeks flushed from the heat of the fire. He smiled and they smiled back. Sharply, Whin told them to resume stirring the earthenware pots sitting upon the embers.
Fern moved round the fire towards the woman, who lifted her hand. He touched his palm to hers and their fingers meshed.
'May our roots grow together,' both said.
Their hands fell.
'You are to be punished, Fern?'
Fern winced. 'For my sin against the Mother, I am to labour as a woman, Aunt Whin.' He sneaked a look at her face.
'You deserve worse,' she said, but her eyes warmed a little.
They grew cold when her gaze fell on the Standing Dead. 'Go, Fern, give our guests some bedding and let them choose hollows. I wish to speak to your mother alone.'
Fern seemed to be waiting for her to look back at him.
'Whin, has Ravan been here?' said Akaisha, anxiously.
'Ravan, your mother wants to see you,' cried Whin.
From the gloom gathering round the trunk of the cedar, Ravan emerged using his arm to shield his eyes from the glare. He came to a halt, looking at the ground.
'Son.'
Ravan glanced up at his mother and then saw the Standing Dead.
They're to stay with us a while,' she said.
Ravan's smile was dazzling as he gazed at Osidian. Carnelian noticed the momentary frown with which Akaisha observed this.
'It warms my heart to see you again, my son.'
Ravan disengaged his gaze from Osidian and looked at her.
Akaisha opened her arms. 'Will you not kiss me?'
Awkwardly, Ravan advanced into her embrace and planted a kiss on her cheek. Carnelian could see how unhappy they both were as they separated.
Whin looked over. 'Are you still here, Fern?'
Grunting something, Fern motioned for the Standing Dead to follow him. Ravan made to join them but Whin stopped him.
'You stay with us, dear.'
Uncomfortable, Carnelian followed Fern into the shadows, then up a hollow lying between two roots. Where the hollow narrowed into the trunk, it was packed with jars. Above their heads, ropes hugged packets and bundles to the bark. The shoulders of the branches were hung with coils of djada, with fernroot forming the rungs of ladders. Fern took hold of some loops of rope and pulled himself up into the tree. Carnelian watched him walk out along a branch and undo a bundle. He tugged two black blankets free, hesitated, tucked one back and pulled a russet one out instead.
'Catch,' he cried, then let them drop. Carnelian caught both. Fern landed on the ground beside them. Carnelian crushed the blankets with his chin so that he could look over them.
'Where do we sleep?'
Fern did not answer. Squinting, he was watching his mother and his Aunt Whin talking as they cooked. Ravan was sulking beside them. Fern looked at Carnelian.
'Eh?'
'Sleep. Where do we sleep?'
Fern looked puzzled and then brought Carnelian's face into focus. He took them round to the uphill side of the tree where the ends of the branches hung nearer to the ground. Fern swung his hand in an arc. Take whichever of the empty hollows you want.'
Carnelian watched him walk off towards the women. The Plainsman glanced back. 'Don't leave the shade of our mother tree.'
Carnelian nodded and turned to Osidian. 'What do you make of this?' he asked, in Quya.
Saying nothing, Osidian walked off up the slope. Hugging the blankets, Carnelian followed him. The roots faceting the ground defined hollows; in many of these blankets and other bundles were neatly stowed. Of the empty hollows, most were too short for a Master to He in. Higher up, they found a hollow large enough to accommodate them both.
Carnelian looked at Osidian. 'Will this do?'
Osidian gazed round with distaste. Their animal eyes will be on us wherever we go.'
Carnelian spotted the faces looking at them from the shade of the nearest tree. Turning slowly, he saw there were others staring. He thrust the black blanket onto Osidian and then pushed his nose into the russet one. He was disappointed. However much the blanket might look like one of Ebeny's, it did not have her smell. He shook the blanket open and let it settle on the cedar needle floor, then laid himself down along the hollow with his head up-slope. The perfume of the needles rose around him.
'It's surprisingly comfortable,' he said.
Morose, Osidian looked down at him. Behind his head the needle-brush canopy was aflicker with blue specks of sky. Carnelian could not bear another argument.
They'll soon tire of staring.'
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply the warm, resinous air.
The air had cooled when Carnelian was woken by voices. He sat up in the hollow. Down the slope, among the deepening shadows, people were coming up the rootstair. Their trudging and the way many let their heads hang betrayed their weariness. For a moment Carnelian felt like lying back before they should see him, but he stayed where he was, knowing he would have to face them some time. A woman glancing up spotted him and was transfixed. Asked why she had stopped, she replied by pointing up at Carnelian and her companions found him with their stares. He imagined how ghostly and terrifying he must appear to them.
The discovery was passed by cries out through the Grove and soon Carnelian was having to endure stares from other directions. He tried a smile, but this only seemed to intensify their horror. Elders among the hearths must have begun spreading the news of the decision they had made, for Carnelian could see and hear the reactions of disbelief. Reluctantly the Ochre tore themselves from their staring and continued up the hill to their hearths.
'What are you doing?' asked Osidian lying at his side. Carnelian looked down. For a moment Osidian seemed as strange a creature to Carnelian as he himself must appear to the Ochre. He shook himself free of the illusion.
'Nothing. Well, just watching the people returning for the night. We must prepare ourselves to meet Fern's kin.'
Frowning, Osidian closed his eyes. Carnelian fought the desire to shake him. He forced himself to look out again. A group of women and men were approaching up the rootstair, some walking hand in hand, others carrying infants. Shrieking with excitement, the children that had been playing near the hearth ran down to them. Carnelian watched with a kind of envy their joyous meeting. A man caught a little girl and threw her up with a whoop and, catching her, hugged her as she squealed with delight. He slung her over his shoulder and continued climbing. A woman bent to embrace a boy, kissing him, nodding as he began to pour out his day for her. Several of the children were already pointing up at the strange white giant. Carnelian saw Akaisha approaching the group. The women handed the children to their men and gathered round her. Carnelian could hear the mutter of their talk and felt the sharp glances they cast up at him. Most of the men were frowning. Carnelian rose to his feet, wondering if he should go down and brave them himself.
The group resumed their climb behind Akaisha, who now had a baby in her arms. The children clung to their parents' hands. As the group left the stair, they fanned out towards the sleeping hollows. Akaisha caught Carnelian's eye and beckoned him. Obeying her, he was forced to pass through the others. They moved from his path as if he were a leper.
'I can't speak the soldier tongue,' Akaisha said as he approached.
'If you don't speak fast, I'll understand your Ochre… my mother,' he replied.
Her eyebrows raised. 'You really do speak our tongue.' She frowned. 'Walk with me.'
She led him towards the stair of roots and soon they were descending it side by side. Everywhere Carnelian glanced, he found eyes. He was glad it was necessary to fix his gaze on his feet, to find a way down the uneven steps.
'We call this stair the Blooding,' Akaisha said.
Carnelian could not help noticing some women undressing under a cedar, their skin smooth and brown in the deepening shade. There was a glint of water as they began to wash each other. A breeze from the east drifted a mist of cooking smoke across his path. Its smell reminded Carnelian's stomach of how hungry he was.
'We'll eat soon,' said Akaisha as if she had heard his thoughts.
'It was kind of you to…' Carnelian could not find the next word.
'You're not the way we imagine you to be,' she said.
'We must be… disappointing.'
She stopped to look up at him surprised. 'In what way?'
'You believe us angels… and now see we're only men.'
Her eyebrows rose again, causing Carnelian to feel he had been caught saying something childishly conceited. She reached up and he allowed her to touch his cheek.
'You really are just a man,' she said. 'And, though your beauty is unsettling, your face is not the lightning which we believed you hid behind your masks.'
She resumed their journey down the winding stair. 'But it was not that which I meant. It is your manner that is unexpected. The other, he is what we expect of your kind. But you… you are almost like one of us.'
'I speak your tongue… a little.'
'No, there is something else.'
'I grew up among Plainsmen.'
They had almost reached the foot of the slope so that they could gaze out from under the cedar canopy across the ferngardens, golden in the dying sun. The easterly caressing them was rich with the perfume of the magnolias. Carnelian felt an ache of joy that forced him to stop and close his eyes. It was as if he had come home after being a long time away.
He sighed. 'It is so peaceful here.'
Tell me of this servant woman who spoke our tongue,' Akaisha said.
Carnelian opened his eyes to look at her. Her upturned face had a tightness around the eyes and mouth that made it clear this was the reason for their walk. Seeing how vulnerable she was, Carnelian considered his words carefully. He began to relate everything he knew about Ebeny and of his childhood with her across the sea.
'So far away,' Akaisha breathed, staring tlas if she were seeing the island at the other side of the world.
She came back. This Ebeny spoke our tongue and she wove our patterns. Was there anything else she had from her people?'
Carnelian saw the yearning in Akaisha's eyes and, as desperately as she, he wanted to give her some proof. He closed his eyes and searched his memory. Suddenly, he grabbed her hand. 'She… she…' He calmed himself. 'Her mother…'
Akaisha gave an eager nod of encouragement while Carnelian tried to stitch the words together in his mind so that he could utter them in a piece. 'Her mother gave her a stone woman.' He showed the size of it in his hands. 'She called it her Little Mother.'
With her free hand Akaisha pulled something out from her robe. Carnelian made to take it but she snapped it into her fist and pulled away from him. Her eyes burned. 'You mustn't touch it. A man must never touch a sacred image of the Mother.'
Carnelian was glad he had not told her that Ebeny had given him her Little Mother to keep him safe on his journey to Osrakum.
'All Plainswomen have these from their mothers,' she said, slumping down onto a root.
Carnelian shared her bitter disappointment. 'I can think of nothing more.' He sat down beside her, resting his chin in his hand. Something occurred to him. This woman -'
'My sister.'
'Did you send other girls that year?'
Akaisha looked at him with hope. 'She was the only one. The other four were boys.'
Carnelian controlled his excitement. He showed her his palm. 'Do you remember her tattoo?' He almost groaned when he saw Akaisha's expression of strain.
'If I drew it for you?'
'Perhaps.'
Carnelian searched around for something to write on. 'Mud,' he said at last.
She understood and led him down to the path running alongside what she told him was the Homeditch.
'Wait here,' she said. She found a path down into the ditch and had soon disappeared into its gloomy depths. He waited and then she returned cradling a pool of muddy water in her hands. She found a piece of ground still bathed in the last red light of day. He cleared it of needles and she poured the water over it. Crouching, Carnelian smoothed the mud and carefully drew out the glyphs Ebeny had on her hand: Eight Nuhuron. He drew back to allow Akaisha to have a look. He chewed his lip as she peered at it. At last she turned to him, nodding, a look of almost girlish wonder on her face.
'It is the same.'
She looked away to the scarlet horizon. The east wind made her salt earrings clink. When she turned back she was frowning.
'When the Assembly voted, most of the men and some of the women voted for your deaths.'
'Mother Harth?'
'She will never forgive the killing of her son. I carried most of the women against her and we won, but we bought you only a momentary reprieve. Those who voted with me did so from fear of what might come from killing angels. It will not take them long to see you are flesh and blood.'
Carnelian's stomach clenched. His hopes had come to nothing. He felt a pang of regret that he had not after all returned to his father in Osrakum, but he dismissed this, knowing he could never have abandoned Osidian to die alone. There was nowhere else to go. He managed to find a smile for her. 'I only wish I could have told Ebeny that I met you; that I saw her people and her home.'
Akaisha was watching him. 'I can save you.'
Hope surged in Carnelian.
'I could adopt you into my hearth.'
'I don't understand.'
'Within our ditches, each hearthmother rules the children of her hearth.' 'Surely the Elders -'
She shook her head. The Assembly has no authority over a hearth nor over a hunt outside the Koppie.'
'But the Elders punished Fern.'
'It was I who set his punishment. He appeared before the Assembly merely to give an account of your journey.'
Carnelian considered everything she had said. 'Why would you do this, my mother? Surely this will bring you nothing but trouble.'
'You helped save the souls of my husband and my eldest son. Even if you had not, I would do this to keep the honour of my son who brought you here. Beyond all this, I will save you because my long-lost sister loves you.'
'You only have my word that that is so.' Akaisha smiled. 'My sister wouldn't have taught you our tongue unless she loved you. As much as you say you consider her your mother, she must have considered you her son.'
'Will the rest of your hearth welcome me?'
She grew grave. They'll accept my decision because they must, but it might take a while before you are welcome.'
'And my friend?'
She gave him a sharp look. 'You mean your brother?' 'Fern told you that?'
She nodded, still wary. When he said nothing, she said, 'I've been wondering why if you are brothers he doesn't also speak our tongue.'
'He never knew Ebeny.' Carnelian saw in her eyes that her welcome for Osidian was conditional on his relationship with him. He could not risk the truth.
'We were separated at birth.'
Akaisha still looked unconvinced. 'I do not believe he will settle in among us easily.'
Carnelian took one of her hands. 'Don't judge him too harshly, my mother. His life has been very different from mine. Besides, he has been ill and is not yet fully recovered.'
Akaisha's face softened. 'My son Ravan seems fond of him.'
Carnelian bit his lip and let that pass without comment. 'If it had not been for him, none of us would have made it here.'
She paused some moments, examining him, so that he began to fear she did not believe him. 'For your sake, he may join us too.'
Carnelian looked at his feet, ashamed of his deceptions; overcome by her kindness.
'Will you enter my hearth?'
As he looked up at her, a feeling of dread rose in him as if something fearful lurked on the edges of this decision. He mastered himself. There was no other way.
'Gladly,' he said giving her hand a squeeze.
'What's your name?' Akaisha asked Carnelian as they climbed the rootstair back up to her tree. 'Carnelian,' he said.
Her try at the Quya made him smile. 'Your accent is the same as Ebeny's.'
Her eyes sparkled. 'Is this strange name what my sister called you?'
'She called me many things.' He grinned. 'But the name she used for me; that the household used for me…' He winced at that reminder of what was the usual nature of the relationship between their two peoples. He felt she was trying hard not to judge him.
'My Plainsman hearthkin called me Carnie.'
'Well, that's what your new hearthkin shall call you too.'
When they reached her cedar, Akaisha stopped him. Carnelian watched her survey the branches with a loving gaze.
'Behold my mother tree,' she said. 'Incarnation of all my mothers. She's been here since the world was born, her roots reaching deep into Mother Earth. The women of my lineage have lived their lives out in her shade. In death, they've lain among her roots with which she has drawn their souls up into her so that, sometimes, you can hear their voices speaking from her leaves. Her shade defines our hearth's sacred rootearth. Only here may you walk barefoot as I may go uncovered.' She drew the russet blanket back, revealing black hair veined with silver all worked through with salt beads. Take care you treat her well.'
Carnelian stooped to remove his shoes, glad of the distraction to hide the shame he felt from having already sinned against Akaisha's beliefs. Not only had he followed Osidian's lead to stand unshod upon the earth but he had done nothing when Osidian led Ravan into sacrilege. Should he warn her of the unhealthy influence Osidian had over her son?
Laughing, Akaisha snatched one of his makeshift shoes away. 'Where did you get this?'
Carnelian explained that Fern had made it for him.
'Well, we'll have to see if we can't do better than that, won't we?'
A mutter of talk and some laughter came from the direction of the hearth. Carnelian could see people gathered there and that Osidian was not among them.
Akaisha looked grim. 'And now you will meet your new hearthkin and share your first meal with us.'
'I should go and fetch my brother.'
'As you will. It is our custom to wash before we eat.' She must have seen his uncertainty, for she added, 'I shall send Ravan to show you where to wash.'
Half bowing to her, Carnelian made for his sleeping hollow. He found Osidian laid out in it as if in a tomb.
'Are you awake?'
Osidian's eyes when they opened seemed windows into a cave.
Carnelian explained Akaisha's offer and how it would save them from the Elders.
Osidian frowned. 'Have you not yet grown weary of fraternizing with savages?'
The haughty Quya stung Carnelian to anger. 'I have just had to lie to those savages to save your life.'
Footfalls approaching made him jump. Turning, he saw it was Ravan. Thankfully, they had been speaking in Quya. The boy looked past Carnelian at Osidian.
'Master, my mother invites you to come and eat with us.'
'Will you show me, Ravan, where I may wash?' Carnelian said. Still waiting for Osidian to answer, the youth ignored him so that Carnelian took him by the arm. 'Show me.'
Pulling his arm free, Ravan scowled, but he led Carnelian towards the trunk of the cedar where a large earthenware jar was wedged between the roots. Ravan plucked one of the leather bowls lying flattened against the tree and, opening it, set it down by the jar. He grated the lid off, took a ladle that hung above it, dipped it in and began to fill the bowl. When this was half full he hung up the ladle and then turned to Carnelian his hands on his hips. 'Do you need help?'
Carnelian shook his head. 'Go join your kin.'
It irritated him when he saw Ravan ignore him again and go straight back to Osidian in the hollow. Carnelian scooped up some water from the bowl and rubbed it over his face and neck. His fingers touching his scar increased his irritation. He had betrayed Akaisha already by lying to her. Glancing back he saw Osidian sitting up talking to Ravan. He wondered if it could be jealousy that made him uneasy about their relationship. He dismissed the thought. There were more important things to worry about, chief amongst these finding a way to encourage Osidian to accept life among the Ochre.
Carnelian poured the remaining water over his feet, folded the bowl and leant it back against the trunk. He stood for a moment listening to the murmur of talk, to the laughter coming from the other side of the tree. He began the walk round. His stomach churned as the hearth came into sight. Perhaps thirty people of all ages were sat on the two roots that enclosed the hearth hollow: the men and boys with their backs to him on one root, facing the women and girls sitting in a row along the other. Smoke was rising from the uphill end of the hollow. As he approached boldly they all turned to look at him. Akaisha was sitting uphill where the two roots met in a fork. She motioned him round to enter their gathering at the downhill end of the hollow. He had to walk past the men's backs. The further down their line he went, the younger they became. At the end sat an infant whose legs did not reach the ground. Carnelian circled him, aware of the boy's gaping stare, stepped over the root and came to stand at the open end of the hollow under the full pressure of their scrutiny. They were ranged up the slope: men on his left; women on his right. On the other side of the fire, Akaisha gave him a nod of encouragement. As she rose he felt the release as all heads turned towards her.
'I have decided to adopt the two Standing Dead into our hearth.'
This news was greeted with shocked expressions, none more so than Fern's. Whin was glowering at Akaisha but the matriarch ignored her.
Treat them with courtesy. They themselves have suffered grievously at the hands of their kind and we're in their debt for the kindness they showed our hearthkin.'
This one is called "Carnie",' she said, causing them all to turn back to look at him. She proceeded to introduce them one by one. He nodded, making sure to look into the eyes of each, struggling to pronounce their names and follow the ways in which they were related to each other. On her left three sisters sat looking much alike, of whom one was Whin; opposite them and on Akaisha's right, their husbands. The introductions moved down the benches on either side, introducing the daughters of the three sisters, two of whom had children on their laps and, sitting across from them, their husbands. Akaisha turned her attention back to the woman's root to point out a daughter of her own who also had an infant, with her young husband sitting facing her. The last young woman, who was clutching a baby, Akaisha introduced as Sil, Whin's daughter.
'She holds our grand-daughter,' Akaisha said, gazing at Sil's child with adoration. She looked at Fern, who was beaming at her.
'My son, who is Sil's husband, of course you know already.'
The news that Fern had a wife and child came as a shock to Carnelian. As Akaisha continued pointing, rattling off the names of the dozen or so children, he tried to hide his confusion by giving his attention to each in turn. They gaped at him as if he were a talking aquar.
'Have I forgotten anyone?' Akaisha asked, smiling.
People shook their heads.
'Well, let's eat then.'
She pointed to a spot near Fern. 'Carnie, sit beside my son.'
Carnelian obeyed, walking up the centre of the hollow until he reached the space the men had opened beside Fern on the root. He sat down. Out of the corner of his eye, he was aware that the boy on his right was staring into the side of his head. Across from him the girls and women were pretending not to be looking at him.
His attention was drawn to Akaisha as she stamped her foot three times. Thanks be to the Mother from whom this food is born.'
'And to the Skyfather,' said Whin's husband, glancing up into the heavens, 'who makes her fruitful.'
Akaisha brought a small ivory box out of her robe. Still frowning, Whin leaned forward to take the lids off pots. Dipping into the box, Akaisha began to sprinkle salt over their food, a pinch at a time.
'Our men's sacrifice,' she said.
The hearth echoed her. Akaisha put the box away and sat down on the root fork. Whin stirred each pot and then she and her sisters began ladling their contents out into bowls which they sent down the two lines. Carnelian watched a bowl being passed hand to hand towards him. When Fern gave him it, Carnelian turned, taking care not to spill its contents, and offered it to the boy beside him. The boy gaped at Carnelian, who recognized him as one of the two who had been with Whin when he met her. He offered the bowl again but all the boy did was stare.
Akaisha's voice carried over to them. 'You know, Blue, dear, if you don't close your mouth you'll end up swallowing a fly.'
Blue disengaged his eyes from Carnelian and glanced at Akaisha.
'Yes, my mother,' he said with a nod and, careful not to touch Carnelian's hands, he took the bowl and passed it to a smaller boy sitting to his right.
At that moment, Ravan appeared. Blue and the other boys moved down the rootbench to make room for him beside Carnelian. Regarding the youth, Carnelian wondered what he and Osidian could have found to speak about for so long.
'I'll take food to the Master,' Ravan announced.
'No you won't,' said Akaisha. 'If he wants food, he'll have to come here and eat it with the rest of us.'
'Then I'll not eat either.'
'Oh yes you will. Sit down.'
Ravan scowled at his mother, but did as he was told.
Carnelian had to pass several bowls to Ravan before he could keep one himself. The earthenware held some kind of stew with what appeared to be dumplings floating in it. He felt a handle being pushed into his hand and, looking up, saw a little girl was offering him a spoon. Thinner than the other children, she did not seem to share their fascination in the stranger.
Thank you,' he said, quietly.
The girl looked up at him through her lashes. There was a shadow of grief around her eyes. When he smiled at her, she looked away and moved on down the line distributing more spoons. Carnelian leaned close to Fern. 'I don't remember being introduced to her.'
Fern raised his eyebrows as he watched her. 'I've no idea who she is.'
'Fernie.' It was his wife, Sil, sitting across from them. Twostone,' she mouthed, slid her gaze over Carnelian's face and, balancing her baby, began to eat.
Carnelian dug his spoon into the bowl and scooped up a dumpling with some gravy. He put it in his mouth. Chewed it.
He nudged Fern. This is good.'
'I'm glad you think so,' said Fern. 'It's what we eat almost every night.'
Carnelian concentrated on the stew, trying to work through his earlier upset. Fern had a wife and child and that was it. Osidian had been right: he did have feelings for Fern. He would suppress them and they would fade.
Scraping the last spoonful, he looked up to find Sil staring at him. She turned her focus on the baby on her lap. Carnelian decided Sil was rather pretty. He watched her chew food to the front of her mouth, then stoop to transfer it into her baby's mouth. It seemed something an animal might do, but then he remembered that he had done the same for Osidian.
All around the hearth, people were discussing him. He tried to distract himself by listening to them but could only pick out a few words and even that grew tiring. Fern was giving all his attention to his bowl though Carnelian could see it was empty. His friend looked sad. Carnelian realized he had been so busy trying to adapt to his new world he had forgotten about Fern's punishment. Carnelian wanted to know what he had meant by labouring as a woman. Fern's look of dejection did not bode well.
Whin's voice carried across the chatter. 'Skai, fetch me Carnie's bowl. If his appetite is in keeping with his size, I'm sure he could do with some more.'
'Whin,' said Akaisha, a note of warning in her voice.
Carnelian lifted his gaze and found that, defying Akaisha, Whin was regarding him coldly. Without taking her eyes off him, she nudged a boy standing beside her. 'Do as you're told.'
As the boy came towards him Carnelian tried to decipher the expression on Whin's face. She seemed to be waiting for something to happen.
Skai, who was about eight, was the second boy Carnelian had seen before with Whin. The boy stood in front of him, looking at the ground, his hands extended for Carnelian's bowl. Carnelian could not avoid seeing the glyphs tattooed on the boy's right hand. 'Kumatuya Seventeen', he read, knowing instantly the boy had been selected for the following year's flesh tithe.
Carnelian raised his eyes. Whin was wearing an expression somewhere between triumph and anger. Everyone else was motionless, staring at him.
Fern snatched the bowl from Carnelian's hands and thrust it at the boy. 'Do as your grandmother told you.'
Carnelian was startled by his friend's anger. When the boy returned with the bowl refilled, Carnelian thanked him and began eating, even though he had lost his appetite. The eyes looking at him were loaded with reproach. He could see their pain at knowing they were going to lose Skai. Carnelian stared down, stirring the meat and dumplings in their gravy. How did the boy cope, knowing he would be taken from his kin for ever? He thought about the people of his household who had been taken from the Earthsky. In Osrakum, the marked boy might very well be chosen to serve House Suth.
'Don't show your feelings,' said Fern in Vulgate.
Carnelian looked up.
Fern's expression was severe. 'Guilty looks will only stir up the Tribe's lust for retribution.' 'I regret -'
'You might as well regret the rising of the sun.' Carnelian followed his friend's gaze to the baby cradled in Sil's arms. Fern became aware Carnelian was looking at his child.
'Leaf was born after the last visit of the Gatherer. Next year, when he comes again, she'll have to be put forward with the other children. If we lose her, we lose her.'
Carnelian could hear the bitterness in Fern's voice but could think of no way to soothe him. He watched Sil kiss-feeding her baby.
'You want to hold her?'
Carnelian turned to find Fern glaring at him.
'Well… if you…' Carnelian flustered.
Fern jerked to his feet and, putting his hands out, asked for his child. Everyone fell silent. Uncertain, Sil glanced down the line of women to her mother, Whin. This enraged Fern.
'Give me my daughter,' he said in a dangerous tone.
Sil glared up at him, chewing vigorously. Bending, she put her lips to her child's and transferred the food. She wiped the baby's mouth and held her out to Fern, who took her, then offered her to Carnelian. He flared his palms in front of him.
'I'll not take her against her mother's wishes.'
'Hold her,' Fern commanded.
There was no denying the determination in his eyes. As Carnelian took the baby and cradled her, around the hearth there was a catching of breath. Sil protested. Whin said something in anger.
Fern turned on her. 'As much as she's your granddaughter, she's my child.' He pointed at Carnelian. 'He's not like the rest of his kind. Look at the way he holds her. Is that the way you would hold a slave?'
Carnelian felt the little girl warm against his heart and, looking down, became trapped in her brown eyes. He could not help smiling at her.
'Does the way he holds a baby make him less of a danger to the Tribe?' Whin demanded.
This hearth is in their debt,' said Fern. 'Isn't it our tradition to honour our debts?'
That works for Plainsmen, not for the Standing Dead,' said Whin.
'He saved the souls of my husband and my son,' said Akaisha.
It made Carnelian miserable to be the reason for such conflict.
'By sacrilegious means,' said Whin.
'Do you doubt that I will make sure my son makes full recompense for his crime?' asked Akaisha. When Whin did not answer: 'As for the Standing Dead, here I am hearthmother and so I say that they are now as much a part of this hearth as are you.'
Whin looked outraged. 'And how will they earn their keep, my mother? Or does my mother intend we should slave for them as do the children they steal from us?'
Fern glanced at Carnelian holding his baby. They'll do as other men.'
'Work in the ditches with us; hunt?' one of the men said, startled.
'I can vouch for their strength and valour,' said Fern.
'So can I,' said Ravan.
Carnelian had forgotten he was there. He rose, the child safe in the crook of his arm, and reached out to clasp Fern's shoulder with his free hand. 'What's your punishment?'
Fern flushed. 'I'm to work beneath the Bloodwood Tree.'
Carnelian was none the wiser and felt he had only served to embarrass his friend in front of his kin. He made his decision even though he had no idea what he was committing himself to. Then I'll work with you there.'
Ravan leapt to his feet. The Master can't do that.'
'Sit down,' said Fern. 'Can't you see Carnie was only speaking for himself.' He turned to Carnelian. 'I appreciate the offer, but you don't understand. This is the Mother's work; something which men don't do, only women.'
'Nevertheless, I'll join you,' said Carnelian. He went over and gave Sil her baby. She looked from him to her husband, then back again. He sensed she had become aware of the feelings there were between them. Trying to hide his confusion, Carnelian pushed past Ravan, stepped over the rootbench and walked away.
'Carnie.'
Carnelian turned to see Akaisha following him. He watched her approach. Her voice when she spoke was low and conspiratorial.
'If you're determined to work with the women, then tomorrow you should come with me down to the earthworks.'
He smiled. 'Where I can cause you trouble as I did just now?'
'Don't you worry about Whin, she'll come round. The day after tomorrow it will be the turn of our hearth to work under the Bloodwood Tree. Tomorrow, the women there will be under the authority of Ginkga.'
'She voted for my death?'
Akaisha nodded.
'Nevertheless, my mother, I'm determined to share your son's punishment.' 'Why?'
There was anger in Akaisha's voice. Carnelian stooped and took her hand. 'I'm at least as responsible for Fern's sacrilege as he is himself and owe him many debts of gratitude. How could I let him suffer the punishment alone?'
'Is that all it is?'
Carnelian was glad the twilight hid his embarrassment. Take care where your emotions will lead you.' She gave his hand a squeeze and then returned to her hearth.
The twilight was thicker under the branches than it had been at the hearth, so that Carnelian had to take care picking his way across the root-ribbed hillside. He could just make out Osidian in their sleeping hollow, his face and hands like patches of moonlight.
The sky here is very deep,' a voice said.
'Are you not hungry?'
'Only to wake from this nightmare.'
Carnelian slipped into the hollow and stretched himself out beside Osidian.
'We can live here,' he asserted.
'I do not believe I can.'
Stars were coming alive in the darkening sky.
'We will have to work with them.'
'A Master shall not be seen to labour,' growled Osidian.
'What will you gain by quoting the Law at me? If we do not work, they will not give us food.'
Then I shall starve.'
Carnelian sat up but found he could not make out Osidian's face. Morning would be a better time for them to talk. He reached for a blanket and shook it open over them. He leaned across Osidian to make sure to cover him. His body seemed carved stone.
Carnelian lay back. Osidian would come round. He had to. Despair began catching at the edges of his mind. A burning vision of Osidian as he had been in Osrakum: a prince among books, music, palaces, slaves; all of such perfect beauty; the exquisite distillation of millennia. All wealth. All power. Osidian was to have been God. How could life among rude barbarians ever compare? There he lay beside him between the roots of a tree. What had he condemned him to?
Carnelian tried to find hope in the stars, but they seemed nothing but ice in a bleak sky. What had he thrown away for the sake of a love that must surely die?
Never again to see his Ebeny. Never to see Tain nor any other of his brothers; not one of the people he had known all his life. For him, all were now dead. His yearning for them was an ache, but there was a deeper grief choking him. His father. The father he had abandoned to Ykoriana's web.