And when, for her bride-price, she gouged out his eyes she held the thorn in her left hand.
The breeze could not disperse the palls of smoke that hid the dawn. The Tribe had fired the further reaches of the valley. The Withering had at last stretched up to find them, parching the blue out of the sky, scorching the green from the earth. Their stream had dwindled, choking dry. The fern meadow turned amber, dying.
Harth and others of the Elders had sniffed hope floating on the air. Several had gone out beyond the entrance to the valley to confirm it. When they returned they went among the Tribe claiming they had smelled the rain in the breeze blowing from the west. When the young looked sceptical, they were reassured it was not a matter of having a keen nose but of being blessed with the experience to recognize the subtle perfume of the Skyfather's approach. After that it had been all hurried packing.
'We must rush to meet the rain,' said Fern. 'Even now it rolls towards us across the Earthsky.'
Carnelian wondered at the certainty in his friend's voice. Carnelian could smell nothing in the air but burning. To reach if we'll have to cross a desert.'
'We still have water,' said Sil, Leaf strapped to her back.
Carnelian had seen how lightly loaded the drag-cradles were with waterskins.
Fern craned round. 'Would you have us stay here?'
Carnelian looked back at the wall of smoke clogging the sky. Aquar ambled on every side as the Tribe made gentle progress to the valley entrance.
Osidian approached, attended by Ravan, Krow and other youths. Carnelian felt Poppy, Fern and Sil close around him like a faction. He greeted Osidian in Vulgate and he gave a nod but would not meet Carnelian's eyes.
Osidian turned to watch the smoke rising. 'It hides the sky.'
The fire will renew the earth,' said Fern. 'When we return next year this valley will be as green as it was when we arrived.'
Osidian was not listening. His eyes were grey, reflecting smoke as he spoke. 'Even the sun cannot see through that curtain of darkness.'
Thirst drove them west with ever greater speed. They had been struggling across the torrid land for days. Dawn found them plodding and so too the dusk. They had redistributed the djada and what little water was left so as to free drag-cradles for the pregnant, the younger children, the old and those who had to take turns resting. It was being whispered that the wind-blown promise of rain had been false. People gazed accusingly at the Elders, so many of whom were not having to walk. Carnelian understood there was a need to blame someone. It was difficult not to despair. The furnace air driving into their faces snatched all moisture from throat and eye. The sun glared relentlessly down. Carnelian choked on the ashen dust rolling hissing across a desert desolation. Whenever he lifted his itching eyes, the charcoaled plain stretched before him limitless and droughty to an umber horizon.
The water they carried dwindled day by day, as had the stream in the valley, and still the rain did not come. Every day, in the calm before the dawn, Carnelian saw Akaisha lift her head and dilate her nostrils like dark eyes. She shook her head and, when asked, she swore by the Mother that the Skyfather's rain was hiding unseen in the hem of the sky. With the others, Carnelian wanted to believe her but as each day withered into a chill night, they had to camp again in an unwatered land.
Aquar began dying. The Elders had ordered they should be given less water to save what was left for the people. Carnelian and Poppy saw one creature reel, stumble and fall, tumbling its rider into the dust. The woman rose, wearily, now the colour of the ground. They watched her urge the aquar to rise; she stroked it, talked to it, begged and even struck the creature in desperate rage. It would not budge and, forlorn, she joined the column of people toiling on foot.
When rain came it came unseen. People were leaning forward, straining for each step, eyes closed, despairing faces hidden in the coils of their ubas. The scorching west wind flung a hail of sand against them. It was a distant flash that woke eyes all along the march. Carnelian squinted blearily and saw a darkening horizon. Thunder rumbled. Even as he stopped to stare, the separation between earth and sky was inking black.
'A sandstorm?' he gasped, but the only answer he received was Poppy grabbing hold of his hand.
'Can you feel the Father in the air?' Akaisha shrilled.
Then Carnelian heard the rushing. The front struck them screaming, tearing the uba from his face. Veils of darkness were coming at them, hissing. The sand before him pocked as if a thousand tiny feet were sprinting towards them. Then he smelled the water and it was upon them, running down his face, drowning the air.
The march of the Tribe dissolved into a riot. Carnelian danced with Poppy. People slipping down from aquar were throwing themselves on each other. Many ran about shouting, their faces turned up into the rain, their arms outstretched seeking to embrace the Skyfather's gift of life.
The sky poured its water into the thirsty earth, washing the air clean of dust. Those next few days were a carnival. The rain raised the wilting necks of the aquar and the spirits of the people. Everyone seemed younger, renewed along with the world. Laughter was everywhere and singing. When they camped, children ran laughing, playing muddy games under thunderous skies.
Calm interspersed the storms: the clouds would open and allow the sun in to dazzle them. Now they smiled to feel its warmth upon their faces. Too soon the clouds would close and the rain resume its downpour. So much rain that the plain began softening into a marsh, in the midst of which lagoons were spreading. Soon every day had become a plodding, sodden slog through sucking mud.
Carnelian collapsed beside Fern. Akaisha had chosen a ginkgo for her hearth and had made them hang blankets in the branches, though these gave scant protection. They hung sodden, collecting the rain which spilled over in rivulets, splashing them, besieging them with puddles. All around them in the rumbling gloom the Tribe sheltered as best they could, but even the aquar drooped drenched.
Whin and Sil had nestled a fire between the roots of the tree. When the wind gusted, it forced the smoke towards them in choking, eye-stinging drifts. The lurid flicker sporadically lit Osidian's face.
'Will this curse never cease?' he moaned.
'It'll not stop until after we reach the Koppie, Master,' said Ravan.
'As much as once I loved the rain, I loathe it now,' Osidian said in Quya, addressing Carnelian as if the youth had not spoken.
Embarrassed by the sound of that tongue, Carnelian looked round apologetically.
'It makes me remember,' Osidian continued, relentlessly, his hand straying up to his neck scar. Fire flashed under the ceiling clouds some distance away. Carnelian waited for the thunder. It came rolling, heavy, stuttering, sonorous.
'Hark, He speaks,' said Osidian in an ominous tone and the rain fell with increasing ferocity.
Carnelian's eyes snapped open. A scream. Questions cutting across each other. He sat up. The smouldering fires revealed black shapes scudding through the camp. For a moment one fire was blotted out by a vast hurtling shadow trailing a wild whoop. A battle-cry choked to gurgling by an arcing shape. Everywhere mounds of darkness were rising uttering fearful cries.
Someone pushed by him, crying in Quya, The Two. The Two.'
Osidian was too fast for Carnelian. He saw with dismay Osidian's bright naked body leaping towards their attackers. He was too visible. Cursing, Carnelian overthrew his immobility, rummaging violently among the piles of baggage. When the haft of an axe slipped into his hand, he flung himself round wielding it, crashing after the cold flicker of Osidian's body. Kicking his way through obstructions, his foot caught and he was flung to the ground. He rose, groaning. Something whistled past his ear even as he was thrust back into the mud.
'He almost had you,' cried Fern in anger.
Carnelian could make out the mounted shape as it scooped up a piece of darkness that shrieked with a child's voice, then it was coursing away. Fern helped him up as the cries receded into the darkness. Only a few fires still burned.
'Are you hurt?' said Fern, running his hands over Carnelian, searching for wounds.
Carnelian slipped away from him and stumbled through the dark, steering by the faint beacon of Osidian's body. Everywhere, shapes were stirring, moaning. Some voices wailed while others rang out begging for light.
Carnelian approached Osidian's long white back, glowing in the gloom. Ravan and Krow were already there, reluctant to touch him. Carnelian crept round to peer into Osidian's face. Motionless marble. He gingerly reached out to touch the stone. Cold. Sticky. He jerked his hand back. Osidian seemed to be a corpse, standing. Carnelian licked his fingers and tasted salt.
'Is he wounded?' asked Ravan.
Nothing.
'Well, are you?' Carnelian demanded. 'It is the other that is slain.'
Carnelian could not help drawing away from the eerie voice. He stumbled backwards over the body lying on the ground and fell. Dazed, he lay there feeling the rain falling on his face in a steady rhythm.
Poppy clung to Carnelian. Through the rain, he saw the camp, now a battlefield. All their makeshift shelters were leaning at crazy angles with their blankets trampled into the mud. Bales disembowelled their contents into puddles. People, moaning, were bending among the wreckage, searching. Some were pulling things together as if they had been merely blown down by a freak gust. Many just stood sightlessly staring out over the featureless land.
The Elders began moving among them, ordering things. Some were so weak they had to lean on the arms of their grandchildren, but, even so, they were listened to with the rest.
Akaisha pulled at Carnelian's shoulder. 'Carnie, don't just stand there, dear. Help me clear up this mess.' She noticed Poppy and they exchanged a glance. Both could see in the girl's face that she was seeing the massacre of her people.
'I'll look after her,' Akaisha said, softly.
Carnelian nodded and carefully transferred Poppy's grip to Akaisha's robe; then, kneeling, he kissed her before going off to help Sil tug a blanket from the clutches of the mud. When it came free, they scraped it as clean as they could and put it on a drag-cradle that was propped up against a ginkgo. They were returning for another when a cry of anguish made them stop and turn. Osidian was standing among women shouting at him in anger.
Carnelian touched Sil's hand. 'I'd better…' 'I'll come too,' she said.
Osidian saw them. 'Carnelian, tell these savages I slew him and so he is mine.'
The women caught Carnelian in their crazed stares. Ginkga came to his rescue, ordering the women all back to work, growing angry when they resisted her. 'First let's get things back to normal. After that there'll be plenty of time for retribution.'
As the women moved off they revealed the corpse lying at Osidian's feet. He was not Ochre. He wore a black hunter face and his hands were painted blue.
There was a slap on Carnelian's arm. He whisked round, angry. Seeing it was Ginkga who had struck him,
Carnelian let go of his rage and went back to pulling blankets from the mud.
The Tribe assembled at the centre of the camp around the frame Osidian had made from two drag-cradles and from which the corpse hung, naked, dangling its blue hands. A livid cut across its shoulder was pulled open by the weight of its head. The sight of one of their attackers had awoken snarling hatred among the crowd.
Akaisha came to stand beside Osidian and called for silence. Grimly, she counted out for them their losses. Five mothers had had young children carried off. Two women had miscarried. One man had lost his wife; another had spilled his brains into the mud; five had sustained cruel gashes.
A young, pregnant woman spat out a chilling description of what she wanted to do to the body.
Akaisha shook her head. 'Mutilating this dead man will not bring your son back, Ceda.'
'What will then?' the woman cried. She looked around her with narrowed eyes and every man she looked at averted his gaze. She gave a snort as she placed her hands on her swollen belly. 'You're all such men when it comes to making babies, but you'll not bleed to keep them.'
Ravan pushed past Krow to stand beside the corpse. He reached down to lift its hand, then turned the painted palm in all directions. 'Can everyone see the colour?' He dropped the hand with disgust and wiped his fingers down his robe. 'We know his Tribe.'
'The Bluedancing,' cried the crowd.
'Let's take our revenge on them. Let's go and bring our children back.'
Several of the younger men cried out their support.
Ginkga shoved Ravan out of the way and glowered at the Tribe. 'Yes, this bastard is Bluedancing.' She turned to Ravan, contempt on her face. 'Do you know how many men the Bluedancing have, boy?'
Ravan gave a shrug as if he could not care less.
'Well, if you don't know…' She pointed at each of the youths who had shouted out support for Ravan. 'Can any of you young fools tell us? No? Well let me tell you. For every one of us, they have two. Heed my words; even were the numbers on our side, fighting would be risky: against such odds, it would be madness.'
Harth came to stand beside her. 'Ginkga speaks the truth. We've lost enough already. We'd lose more in attempting revenge.'
That's easy for you to say,' a woman cried out. Others joined their voices to hers.
Harth raised her arms, then waited until they fell silent. 'Why is it, you think, the Bluedancing attacked us at all?'
Carnelian felt the blood draining from his face. He put his arm over Poppy to stop her trembling.
'I'm sure it's well known to you by now that, recently, the Master
…' she looked round at Osidian, 'put some of our lads up to starting a brawl with the Bluedancing in which several of their people were badly hurt and -'
'We didn't start it!' Ravan bellowed as he advanced on the woman.
Harth and the other Elders regarded him with horror.
Akaisha interposed herself between Harth and her son. 'Who do you think you're speaking to?'
Harth stepped out from behind Akaisha. 'If the Bluedancing had seen the Master, they could've betrayed us to the Gatherers, bringing disaster down on the Tribe.'
Ravan grimaced, dropped his head, shaking it as if he was being confronted by an exasperating child. He lifted pleading eyes to his mother. 'It wasn't like that. The Master made certain they could not see him.'
When his mother's frown deepened, he pointed at
Harth. 'Can't you see she's lying? It wasn't like that, it -'
Akaisha's slap across his face brought Ravan to a halt, gaping, accompanied by the crowd's catching of breath. Akaisha's voice carried clear and harsh. 'Never again will you dare address an Elder in that insolent way.'
Ravan bared his teeth in cold rage. 'Every man here knows the arrogance of the Bluedancing's been swelling with every passing year. Are we to accept that any number of brawls, whoever started them, is justification for killing us and carrying away our children?'
'This was the action of some hotheads,' cried Crowrane. 'It couldn't possibly have been sanctioned by their Elders.'
'What does that matter?' a woman cried out and was answered by a surge of approval.
Carnelian was sharing the general feeling when he felt Osidian speak something in his ear. He turned and looked into his eyes.
Tell them,' said Osidian in Quya.
Carnelian shook his head. 'I will play no part in your games, Osidian.'
Then I will use another.'
'What are you saying?' demanded Harth.
Carnelian shook his head. 'I will take no part in this.'
Osidian began to speak in Vulgate. Harth asked her husband to translate. He frowned.
'He said that, even though their numbers are greater than ours, they still feared us enough to attack at night like cowards.'
Harth smiled slyly. 'Does the Master counsel us to make war upon the Bluedancing?'
Osidian narrowed his green eyes as Crowrane told him what his wife had said.
'And who would we put in command of this expedition?' Harth continued as if she were reeling in a fish. She raised her eyebrows waiting for an answer. Osidian seemed not to hear her.
The Master himself, no doubt?' she said and smiled.
Osidian spoke and Crowrane, scowling, refused to translate. Harth began to look uncertain.
Ravan turned to face the people. The Master says that perhaps under his command we might find the manhood we lack.'
The Tribe erupted in outrage. The men, who had been feeling the humiliation, cried out that they had no need of the Master to find courage. They boasted of their bravery in the hunt.
Carnelian saw Harth's horror as she realized she had lost control. The mothers who had lost children and husbands; the men who had lost wives, fixed up the anger of the Tribe until there was a universal baying for war. Harth, Akaisha and other women Elders tried to calm them with commands, then appeals, but the crowd's mood overwhelmed their opposition. Shouting against the tumult, Galewing, Crowrane and other Elder men gave their leave for war. Watching in horror, Carnelian froze when he saw the smile Osidian was making no attempt to conceal.
As the Tribe scattered to their preparations, Carnelian approached Osidian. 'Why did you smile?'
The eyes Osidian turned on him were those of a stranger. 'Matters have come to pass according to my will.'
Carnelian went cold. He considered asking Osidian how he had brought this disaster down on them, but knew he would get no answer. 'Why?'
'It is the God's will.'
The cool, indifferent Quya made Carnelian boil. He would tell Akaisha and she would put a stop to Osidian's madness. He looked around him and saw the hollow-eyed determination on every face. Even if Akaisha believed him, would she be able to tell the mothers to forget their lost children?
He felt empty as he regarded Osidian. 'You will at least fight with them?'
'I will lead them to victory.'
'Lead them? Did Ravan not tell you that they rejected you?'
Osidian smiled again. They will follow me.'
Carnelian felt tired, not understanding what he meant, not wanting to understand.
'And you, my Lord,' Osidian said. 'Who will you fight with?'
Carnelian clasped his head in exasperation. 'How many sides are there?'
'Either you will choose to stand with me or else number yourself among the savages. Which will it be?'
Carnelian considered whether he might refuse to fight at all. But could he watch Fern and the others march out and remain behind? The waiting would be unbearable. He searched Osidian's eyes for any glimmer of the boy he had loved, but all he saw was a Master.
He shook his head. 'Not with you.'
Osidian turned away.
Carnelian stood there for some moments, considering all the arguments he might make, the appeals, but he knew the Master would never listen and, desolate, he went off to find Fern.
Carnelian wandered sick at heart through the encampment. Fresh edges were being struck onto the flint blades of their spears and javelins. Aquar were having their saddle-chairs adjusted. Unnecessary equipment was being removed. Men were taking turns hornblacking each other's faces.
Carnelian's heart sank when he saw Fern approach with Sil and Poppy. The girl looked like she wanted to run to him, but Sil was holding her hand. Fern offered Carnelian a freshly honed spear.
'Will you fight with us?'
'Do you really want this?' Carnelian said.
Looking unhappy, Fern shrugged. 'It's happening. To try to match the Bluedancing's numbers everyone's going: from the eldest to the youngest. We need every warrior we can get. Will you fight with us?'
'Warriors?' Carnelian snorted and when he saw Fern's dismay, he reached out to take the spear. 'Of course I'll fight with you.' j
Poppy ran into him. 'You mustn't go, Carnie. You mustn't.'
He crouched, holding her away from him so he could look into her eyes. 'You wouldn't want Fern to go by himself, would you?'
Poppy looked at Fern and then back at Carnelian. Sil put a hand on Poppy's head. They'll take care of each other.'
The girl looked up at Fern. 'You promise?' 'I promise,' said Fern.
As Carnelian rose, Sil looked at him with a question in her eyes. He gave her a nod in answer, then put his hand on Fern's shoulder.
'Come, paint me for war.'
The Ochre warband had a ferocious aspect. Swarthy sinews, midnight faces and, already, something like the joy of battles had come upon them. Seeing them round him laughing, even Carnelian began to believe in the possibility of victory.
'Who can stand against such prowess?' one man cried, and was greeted with much punching of the air.
As they mounted up, Carnelian looked among the women searching for Osidian and was puzzled when he could not see him anywhere. Searching among the warriors, he saw Ravan and Krow. He frowned. It was strange to see them separated from Osidian.
'Our prayers go with you all,' Ginkga cried, making the best of a bad situation.
Take your strength from the Earth and your courage from the Sky,' cried Harth, looking morose.
Akaisha was trying to conceal her worry. 'May the Mother and the Skyfather bring you back safely.'
Cacophony broke out as women called out their men's love names; mothers the names of their sons; daughters their fathers'. Catching Akaisha's eye, Carnelian gave her a salute and she replied with a curt nod. Sil was there beside her and Poppy. He waved at them and they waved back.
The warband rode out on this swell of anxious love, perhaps two hundred of them, following the trail their enemies had left churned into the mud.
The pace dropped as the camp fell out of sight. Word was passed round that they must conserve the strength of their aquar for the coming battle. Their ardour seemed harder to keep alight once they were all alone cantering across grey desolation. Even the sky seemed to be against them, dashing its downpour mercilessly against their faces as they rode along the muddy trail.
Sharing the increasing feeling of unease, Carnelian looked to the Elders who were riding up ahead. For a while now they had been in discussion amongst themselves, often looking back with anxious faces. At last they broke apart and began falling back, calling a halt. It was Galewing, frowning, who announced that they had chosen Crowrane to be their leader. Loskai looked smug as his father surveyed the warband.
'Organize yourselves according to your hunts.'
As everyone moved their aquar in the direction of their hunt leader, a melee ensued in which unease flared to anger and loud recriminations. Shouting commands, the Elders rode round the edges trying to untangle the situation.
Eventually, Carnelian found himself with Fern, Ravan, Krow and the others of his old hunt in a clump in front of Crowrane. Loskai regarded them with satisfaction. One of the youngsters asked if their raid was going to be like hunting and Crowrane slapped him down in a way that only served to betray how thin was his composure.
'What do we do next?' asked Ravan, loudly.
Crowrane fixed him with a scowl. 'We send scouts to locate the enemy.'
All the Elders who had been auxiliaries wanted to go. Confusion reigned once more, until Galewing's hunt was nominated to go scouting. The rest remained behind under Crowrane's authority. With Loskai as his lieutenant, the Elder busied himself making all manner of elaborate arrangements that seemed to serve no purpose but to make them acknowledge he was their commander.
As they waited, they dismounted and walked about. Carnelian surveyed the people round him with foreboding. Even through their warpaint, the youngsters seemed pale and sick. Most of the men were convincing as warriors only when they were conscious they were being looked at. There was nothing to do; nothing to think about except the coming battle.
Carnelian noticed Krow kept scanning the blank horizon. What was Osidian up to? He was amused to see the youngsters drawn to Fern, whose brass collar perhaps lent him a military aura.
When the scouting party was sighted returning, Crowrane gave in to the pleas of the youngsters that the warband should ride to meet them. As they closed on the scouts, whose faces were swathed, Carnelian could tell by the cast of their shoulders that they were not bringing good news.
Galewing pointed over his shoulder. They're there,' he said, trying to sound calm. They march across the Plain. We can be fairly certain they didn't see us.'
'Let's attack them now,' Ravan declared, causing everyone to look at him.
Crowrane fixed him with baleful eyes. 'You don't know what you're talking about. If we come at them across the open plain they'll have all the time they need to receive our charge. For any chance at victory, we need surprise.'
'This is madness,' cried Kyte. Carnelian could see the way his gaze shifted here and there among the warband as if he were already counting casualties.
'I have to agree with Father Kyte,' said Galewing. 'We don't have the numbers nor the training. We have nothing. We must forget this and return to our people while we still can.'
Ravan rode forward, regarding the Elders with a contemptuous gaze. 'All my life you've claimed to be soldiers, but now I can see you never did anything more than catch thieves in the marketplace or stand guard upon a gate.'
The voices of the Elders rose in protest but Ravan's young voice could still be heard above them. 'We're no less brave, nor less skilled with weapons than the Bluedancing and don't you remember this morning, Father Crowrane, when you declared their raid the work of a few hotheads? If they could do it, so can we.'
'Ravan's right,' a man cried. 'I say we get the bastards. They took my son. How could I face my wife if I don't bring him back?'
Many agreed.
'Could any of us live with the shame of returning without even having tried?' someone said.
'Is this how you all feel?' cried Galewing and was answered by a swell of affirmation. As the hubbub died away, the Elders looked at each other grimly.
'If we go in, it must be at night,' said Crowrane. To hide how few we are.'
'How will I find my son in the darkness?'
'We can't hope to find him or any of the captives whether we attack by day or by night. We snatch some of their children and then make a trade,' said Crowrane.
There was a lot of nodding. Carnelian felt a wash of relief that at least they had postponed the terrible moment.
For the rest of that day they rode parallel to the march of the Bluedancing. With each step their aquar took, Carnelian saw their spirits fail a little more. Despair was growing in his stomach. Their proud demeanour had faded. Bedraggled, their warpaint now made them look like the jugglers Carnelian had seen in the marketplace before the gates of Osrakum.
When next they stopped Carnelian approached Fern. This delay has turned into a fatal error.'
His friend turned bloodshot eyes on him, grimaced, but said nothing.
Crowrane looked resolute, but his son betrayed him with every doubtful glance he gave him.
The rain continued to lash them. Carnelian felt more than saw the approach of night. As it closed about them it seemed to be their dread. He saw the queasy looks everyone was trying to hide. He yearned then for Osidian's certainty as he tried to dismiss the fear that he and many others might well not live to see another morning.
Carnelian was thankful of the darkness that hid his fear. The night was filled with furtive whispering. The old were remembering their hunts, the good, long years of their lives: the young their sweethearts, their mothers, their dreams for the future. When a voice spoke, it seemed very loud. Carnelian felt everyone turning to listen with desperate hope.
'We'd better go now… while we still dare.' It was Fern.
This is a mistake,' said Galewing. 'We go,' rumbled Crowrane.
'Perhaps we should listen to Father Galewing,' said Ravan.
'We must go or return to the Tribe as cowards,' said Fern.
Affecting strength, voices added their agreement and the Elders tried as best they could to marshal the war-band. They rode out under a black sky dead of moon or stars. Carnelian let his aquar follow the others as they crept towards where they thought the camp of the Bluedancing lay. Stone spearheads clinked against each other. Leather sighed against aquar hide. The tiny sparks of their enemy's fires came alive in the night and drew them on. Moths to a flame, thought Carnelian.
When they had come close enough to hear the voices of their enemy, it was Fern who stopped them turning back. He gave a battle-cry and sent his aquar careering in a charge. As his voice rode away from them, fear was swept away by shame. They would not allow one of their own to die alone. Carnelian sat startled as he heard their shrieks sweep by on either side. With his heels, he held his aquar where it was and heard their voices thin as they sped away. He was almost unmanned imagining the mayhem lying there waiting for him. Fern's battle-cry sounded again and, cursing, Carnelian coaxed his beast to furious speed desperate to catch him up.
They huddled in the black heart of the night. A gash ached in Carnelian's forearm. A whimpering, wounded boy was trembling against his thigh. The darkness was filled with shaky breathing and moaning. Many must have been wounded. Some had been lost. Voices were whispering names insistently. Someone pushed in beside him. 'Carnie?'
'Fern,' he replied, dazed, glad to his core to have him near.
'Are you bleeding?'
Carnelian fumbled and grabbed his friend's trembling arm. The solid feel of it opened a way for his voice. The whirling.'
'It was my first battle too.'
'It's like the darkest dream. I felt the soft give of flesh, the screaming… Oh, dear mother, the screaming.'
They crushed into each other. A shadow loomed beside them.
'It will pass,' said Galewing in a strange remote voice. 'It's always hard to kill a man, even if he's your enemy.'
'Were we victorious?' a childish voice asked suddenly.
It was Galewing who answered: 'We were routed. They were ready for us. They were too many.'
'Even the Skyfather fought against us,' someone said, his tone incredulous, recalling the rain that had flung its needles at their faces.
'Are we safe now?' pleaded a boy.
Over Fern's shoulder Carnelian scanned the darkness for their enemy.
They'll begin their hunt for us with the morning light,' said Galewing.
'We must flee,' said Loskai.
'We can't.' It was Ravan. Too many of us are wounded. We've lost too many aquar. Even if some of us escaped, do you think they'd be enough to defend the Tribe against the revenge of the Bluedancing? We must wait here until dawn.'
Groans were the only answer.
'No, it's best we wait,' said Ravan, insistently. 'If we can get some sleep then at least we might be able to sell our lives dearly.'
They might spare us,' said Crowrane.
'Would you beg them for mercy? Would we have given any if our situations were reversed?'
Fern disengaged himself gently from Carnelian. They'll show mercy, Ravan. We're all Plainsmen. No tribe has ever destroyed another.'
'Go and tell that to the hearthkin of those we killed and maimed,' said Ravan. They'll show no mercy. We must make an end of it here. At least the sons and daughters of the Tribe might live. The Bluedancing might adopt them to swell their strength. The most we can do is to make sure our people don't remember us with shame.'
Sobbing broke out here and there. Carnelian despaired for Poppy. She had lost so much already. At that moment something like the moon came out from the clouds and, drifting towards them, resolved into a ghostly face.
The Master,' gasped several voices.
Carnelian saw it was Osidian who stood before them, personifying the darkness. He spoke.
'In my right hand I hold defeat: in my left, victory. Which will you have me open?'
As Ravan translated Osidian's words, even through his relief, Carnelian was overwhelmed by a sickening foreboding, for the Wise taught that the left was the hand of darkness.