The most elegant system of domination is one in which the dominated are unaware of their state: they believe the world has always been and always will be as they know it; that the order under which they toil is as immutable, as unassailable as the sky.
War is a clumsy means of enforcing such dominion. Not only is it costly and wasteful of resources, but it is difficult to control and subject to catastrophic and unforeseeable changes of fortune.
Famine is a surer tool of statecraft, with the crucial proviso that it must be seen to arise naturally from the land. Hunger will keep not only the body, but the mind in chains.
At first light, Osidian led them to the edge of a lagoon. He spent time surveying the ground and eventually settled them on a ridge on the shore. After a brief conference with Carnelian, he rode out across the dried-up bed with the better half of the warband: he had chosen only the unwounded and, of those, predominantly the young. Ravan went as interpreter. Galewing had volunteered to go to represent the Elders. Krow had chosen to stay behind. That Osidian had not objected to this made Carnelian suspicious that the youth had been left as a spy. Standing on the shore with the rain flying in his face,
Carnelian watched the riders fade into the grey south among gentle hills that would soon become islands. He had been left with clear instructions, delivered by Osidian as if they were strangers. By using Quya, Osidian had ensured that only Carnelian could be aware of his plan. Carnelian had had to obey him. If he had refused to command the men left behind, Osidian had said he would abandon them all to the revenge of the Bluedancing.
Carnelian could feel his men staring at his back. He leaned close to Fern. 'Will you be my second?'
Fern grimaced. The Elders will like taking orders from me even less than from you.'
Carnelian yearned to rid himself of the burden of command. He forced himself to look round. The Ochre remaining were massed on the ridge, sunk into their saddle-chairs, miserable in the downpour, many wounded, all disheartened, every one of them older than him. Their eyes accused him.
Carnelian turned back. 'If that's how they feel, then they shouldn't have agreed to follow the Master in the first place.'
'What options did we have?' said Fern.
'Do you believe I'm less trapped than you?'
'Have you more experience of war than the veterans?'
'You know perfectly well I don't, though I'd question how much experience they have of fighting on foot.'
Fern had no answer to that. He smiled winningly. Things are as they are, Carnie, but you know you can count on me.'
Carnelian had them all dismount. The kneeling aquar were hobbled to ensure they could not wander away. He oversaw the removal of their saddle-chairs. The Plainsmen looked at him as if he were mad when he asked them to pile the chairs in a heap. Discontent turned to outrage when he told them to set the heap alight.
'Do you want to bring the Bluedancing down on us?' said Crowrane.
That's exactly what I want.'
Carnelian's answer produced incredulous consternation.
'All of them?' said Loskai, scowling.
'If we're on foot, they'll ride us down,' said Crowrane.
That's what the Master hopes they'll think. You saw how carefully he chose this site? He knows what he's doing.'
Krow was nodding.
'How do you imagine we're going to be able to ride home without our saddle-chairs?' demanded Kyte.
'Let's worry about that when we're victorious,' said Carnelian.
The Plainsmen fell silent as the desperate reality of the situation soaked into them.
The moment they see us, the Bluedancing will know only half of us are here,' said Fern.
Carnelian was relieved that they were beginning to move along the path of argument Osidian had predicted. 'Knowing that, what do you think the Bluedancing will imagine is the reason we're making all this smoke?'
He was answered with many frowns.
Understanding came over Fern's face. 'A signal. They can't know how many of us attacked them last night. They'll assume we're signaling the Tribe to send the rest of our men.'
Fern looked out across the lagoon bed in the direction Osidian had ridden. The Master will come at them from an unexpected direction.'
As Carnelian gave a nod, he saw a tinge of confidence dawning in the faces around him.
Loskai, alone, retained his scowl. 'How can we hope to stand for long enough against four times our strength?'
Carnelian had been primed to answer that too. 'How do the earthers fend off raveners?'
Carnelian formed them up in ranks along the ridge in a dense formation they all understood was an imitation of an earther hornwall. He distributed the veterans along the front and put himself at the extreme right with Fern at his side. Each man was armed with a spear and a shield improvised from the wicker backs of the saddle-chairs. Looking down the line, Carnelian almost winced at how flimsy their hornwall looked. He caught one of the men looking at him, eyes red from fear and lack of sleep, and forced fierce resolve into his face.
He squatted down on his haunches, calling out, 'We might as well relax while we wait.' The movement rippled all the way down the line.
'Does anyone know a good song?' Carnelian asked. It was Krow who began a ballad which told of the love between the Earth and Sky. Raggedly others began joining in. The smoke from the saddle-chair pyre was being driven back over the aquar that lay like a field of boulders protecting their backs. Carnelian felt the flanks of the hornwall were too exposed and curved them back a little. He went over and over in his mind how Osidian had said the battle would go. His wounded forearm itched. He gazed out over the lagoon, squinting through another volley of rain, his heart racing every time he thought he saw the Bluedancing.
Carnelian was the first to spot them marching across the lagoon bed. He rose onto shaky legs and the rest of his men followed his lead. The Bluedancing were advancing towards them in a rabble.
They can't have seen us yet,' Fern said in a low voice, as if he feared they might hear him.
Carnelian nodded, wishing the rain was not slanting into his eyes. He turned to survey his men and his heart faltered, seeing how few they were. He forced a grin.
The Tribe will sing with pride of this day.'
Some answered him with watery smiles, others stared unblinking at the approaching enemy.
Faint cries confirmed the Bluedancing had seen them. Their front widened, then broke into a charge.
'Make ready!' Carnelian cried.
They locked their makeshift shields together as best they could and thrust their spears over the top, holding them in their fists, leaning their hafts on their shoulders as Carnelian had shown them. The spear points made their front a hedge of thorns, but Carnelian still felt desperately exposed on his unshielded right.
As the Bluedancing crashed towards them, Carnelian scoured the vast grey spaces of the plain but Osidian was nowhere to be seen. Fear of abandonment and death rose up into his throat. He slowed his breath, focused his mind on the play of rain on his skin. His was the command; his the heart that must strengthen them. He denied his fear its hold on him, then reached round to take Fern's shoulder.
The Master will not fail us,' he said. 'Pass it on.'
Fern smiled grimly and sent the message along the hornwall. Carnelian saw how they gripped their spears more tightly. He locked eyes with Fern and they smiled fiercely at each other. When Carnelian looked out across the lagoon bed he saw rolling towards them a storm of threshing mud that far out-flanked their hornwall on either side. The blackened faces of the Bluedancing were holed by the red of their screaming mouths. Their hair flickered black haloes round their heads. Their ululating warcries were swelling louder. The percussion of clawed aquar feet set the ground trembling, flinging earth up in all directions.
Around Carnelian the spear hedge bristled. The odour of their attackers washed over him. He felt more than saw the hornwall around him softening. He felt the Ochre on the verge of running from the screaming tidal wave rushing at them.
'Steady,' cried Carnelian in a long-drawn-out tone. Then, almost as if he had commanded it, the charge broke before them. Osidian had seen that marshy ground had formed a trough along that part of the shore. Aquar screamed as their legs buckled and they tumbled forward. The whole front shivered and broke and his vision was filled with the twisting necks of aquar, eye-quills flaring like hands to stop their fall, the looks of dismay as their riders were sucked down into the collapse. In front of Carnelian, an aquar twisted, falling before the feet of another who tried to leap it, failed, and the two became entangled, rolling in a turmoil of thrashing legs, saurian screeching and then the death cries of their riders as they were folded into the mangling, threshing mass.
Some of the riders made it through the soft ground to crash their aquar into the Ochre's wavering front. The spears of the hornwall impaled one beast: others waded in, snake necks writhing with splayed plumes. The air was filled with a splintering of spears. In a nest of these a blue-painted man fallen from his saddle-chair was thrashing around him with a stone axe, but was quickly cut down by a dozen, fevered blows. Another man was hurled forward as his aquar fell. He struck the shieldwall like a boulder, rolling right through their ranks where he was set upon and butchered.
Carnelian bellowed at his men that they must heal the breaches in the hornwall. In the comer of his eye he was aware of Bluedancing rising from the wreckage of their charge. They threw back their hair and snarled. Still they far out-numbered the Ochre. Avoiding the death-kicks of the aquar, they came on at a lope in twos and threes. Some who had lost their weapons tore shards of splintered wood from the saddle-chairs that were sinking into the soft mud. Those who had to clamber over the debris to get at the Ochre hissed curdling promises of what they would do when they reached them. They fell upon the hornwall clawing, shrieking, tearing at the wicker with bladed stone, with their hands. One man came at Carnelian from his exposed side so that he was forced to abandon his spear. The man swung a blade that Carnelian heard singing through the air. Though he ducked, it still scraped along his skull. He swung his own axe up and buried it beneath the man's ribs. Frantic, he worked it free, aware more Bluedancing were pushing into the hedge, heaving against the wicker shieldwall seemingly oblivious to the spears snapping off in their flesh. Blood arced through the air. Enraged Bluedancing chopped at them like demons.
Pulling the encumbrance of his torn uba from his head, Carnelian tried to order his men back, to reform their line, but the hornwall had dissolved into a confused melee. A blackened face came close enough for him to see the veins in its eyes that gaped at him in frozen disbelief. He swung his axe. Blood seemed to be thickening the air so that, as hard as he pushed, his blade took time to reach them. He watched its scalloped edge puncturing blacked skin scarlet. Teeth and foaming gore. Carnelian poured his strength into the killing, ploughing through the thicket of their flesh. Each impact sent a slow judder up his arms. He felt a cut opening his face; a remote bruising impact to his shoulder. He clubbed a man from his path and saw more of them leaping towards him through the carnage of their beasts. Counting them, Carnelian began turning his head, despair rising in him like vomit. His voice erupted even as his people slid into sight. He saw them set upon, harried, too far away for him to help. Other cries were rising above the din of chopping. He could not understand the expression of surprise in the faces he knew. Slow, drawn-out battle-cries were rising from behind their enemies. They faltered. Recognizing the voices as Ochre, new vigour shot from Carnelian's heart down his arms. He could sense the enemy tide turning. Aquar were coming up behind them. He glimpsed the fierce black faces of their rescuers. The Bluedancing were turning away, their faces flaccid with dismay. He saw several collapse under a succession of blows. Some were in full flight. Their backs drew Carnelian on with a lust for slaughter. He surged forward snarling in pursuit. He was in a forest of wounded aquar and shattered saddle-chairs. The earth was trying to suck him down. Through a red haze a man fleeing drew him on. He ducked under a swinging huge clawed foot. First his victim, then Carnelian, reached more solid ground. Carnelian careered in pursuit. Judged the distance. Raked his axe blade down the length of the man's back. The body fell forward vomiting blood. Carnelian slipped on gore. Regaining his footing, he came to a halt, swaying, his mind seeping free of fury. Panting rasped his throat. The axe felt suddenly unbearably heavy in his hand so he let it go.
They… will… escape… us,' he said, between breaths as he watched the Bluedancing streaming away.
'No they won't,' said a voice nearby.
Carnelian turned, beginning to feel the pain of his wounds. It was Fern, heavily lifting his arm to point. Carnelian followed the finger. At first he could not understand what he saw. A rushing, dark, many-legged mass. Then he saw the huge figure at its apex and heard a cold voice raised in a Quyan paean. It was Osidian, bearing down upon the luckless, routing Bluedancing.
Carnelian and Fern approached the mob of Ochre cavorting around Galewing and Osidian. Ravan detached himself from the others and threw himself on Fern, hugging him hard. Fern pushed his brother away, holding him at arm's length to see his face; a laughing mask of sweat and gore.
'It's unbelievable,' the youth said. He spun round, hanging on his brother's arm. 'Just look at what we've done…'
Seeing the carnage, Carnelian was back on the ship that had brought him to the Three Lands, reliving the massacre he had caused when its crew had seen his face unmasked. Nausea gripped him, forcing him to double up while, all the time, Ravan kept pouring out his gloating chatter. Amid the universal glowing mood of celebration, others interjected details of the fighting, laughter, jests.
Coming up for air, Carnelian saw Fern surveying the field upon which the Bluedancing had been turned into so much butchered meat and was relieved to see his friend sickened by what he saw. Krow crouched, vomiting. Carnelian realized how similar this looked to the massacre of the Twostone.
Osidian towered severe among the youths, each vying with the others for the privilege of his attention, but he seemed unaware of them. His gaze was gliding across the dead as if he could not believe they were real.
Carnelian walked towards him and the youths made way as they might have done for Osidian himself.
'You knew this would happen,' Carnelian said in Quya.
Osidian's eyes had lost their over-bright look. He shook his head slowly, narrowing his eyes as he gazed out.
'You are in error, Carnelian, I did not know.'
Carnelian became aware Ravan and others were keenly watching their exchange. Carnelian sensed Ravan's resentment, but chose to ignore it. He felt compelled to address Osidian in Quya, even though it was turning all those around them into barbarians.
'But you promised it when you left us there.'
As Carnelian lifted his arm to point he became aware of the blood staining it to the elbow. His mind was drawn back to the slow dance of the battle. He saw past the vision to the marshy ground littered with the broken remnants of men and aquar; spears and saddle-chairs. The men of the hornwall were slogging towards them. With some effort, Carnelian wrenched his gaze back to Osidian's serene face.
'You promised us this… this victory,' he said, spitting out that last word because it felt filthy in his mouth.
Osidian turned his green eyes on him. 'I would have promised anything, anything at all for this chance. The dead would not have reproached me in defeat.'
'Chance? What do you mean, chance?'
Osidian turned away, seemingly distracted by the moaning of the dying. An aquar that had been felled lay intermittently screeching, its tail lifting then subsiding, its taloned foot feebly gouging the bloody mud. The youths' excited chatter seemed to be mocking the poor creature's attempts to rise. Then they quietened. Following their gaze, he saw the Elders approaching, faces sagging with age.
Ravan stepped up to welcome them. 'My fathers, is this not a vast victory the Master has given us?'
Kyte surveyed the carnage. 'Yes, vast.'
Fern's eyes were welling tears. He grew suddenly enraged. 'What are you all doing behaving as if this were a wedding?'
Then everyone saw Crowrane, bowed, the body of his son in his arms. A silence fell which allowed them to hear the dying.
'Are you all deaf?' Kyte demanded. He seemed to have become ancient since the morning. His hand shook out. 'Go finish what you've begun.'
Sullenly, in ones and twos, taking their flint axes, the Plainsmen wound off across the battlefield.
Tears were rewetting the blood on Kyte's face as he watched them. This is an abomination.'
'What?' shouted Ravan. 'Haven't we been delivered from destruction? Wouldn't this have been our own fate if the Master hadn't saved us?'
Fern regarded his brother with horror. Kyte wiped away tears and regarded Ravan with unconcealed wrath. 'Can't you see, boy, all the men of the Bluedancing lying as carrion at your feet?'
'What of it?' said Ravan, face reddening.
'"What of it?'" echoed Kyte. He looked up blinking at the sky. His bloodshot eyes fell on Ravan. 'Who'll protect the hearths of the Bluedancing? Who'll hunt for their mothers and their children now their strength lies here rotting on this ground?'
Ravan's mouth hung open but he did not seem to have anything to say.
'Well, thank the Skyfather you've run dry at last,' said Fern and was rewarded with a look of hatred.
'What did the old man say?' Osidian asked Ravan.
The youth regained something of his composure as he translated Kyte's words into Vulgate.
'I regret this but we clearly had no choice,' said Osidian. 'Is it certain the Bluedancing are finished?'
Galewing nodded. They are no more.'
Then we must do what we can to save what is left.'
The old men focused narrowed eyes on Osidian.
'You could take their children into the Ochre to swell your strength.'
The old gave wary nods: the youths standing round looked uncertain.
Their salt shall swell the wealth of the Ochre.'
This the Elders listened to more attentively.
They'll have a good quantity of it, sure enough,' said Galewing. He looked over to where their men were moving, silencing the dying with blows.
Osidian addressed his next comment to everyone. 'We can send those of them already marked for the tithe to the Mountain in place of your own children.'
Carnelian watched the look of disbelief turn on many faces to hope. Shocked, he contemplated the joy of keeping Poppy from the Masters.
'But what about their women?' asked Galewing.
Osidian shrugged and then looked the Elder in the eye.
'Either we let them die or else you might welcome them into the Ochre… as servants.'
The old men considered this. 'As servants…' they muttered, uncertainly.
They fished the Ochre dead from the carnage on the ridge. They salvaged saddle-chairs to replace the ones they had burned and improvised drag-cradles to carry the casualties.
'We must do something about all these bodies,' said Galewing in Vulgate, watching his people move among the corpses despoiling them of salt.
'Look around you,' Osidian said, sweeping his arm round. Sitting in his saddle-chair, he towered over the Elder. 'How shall we give them to the sky? See how numerous they are. It's impossible to take them with us. Would you leave a contingent of our strength here to keep away the scavengers? Consider that the Ochre are wholly unprotected.'
Galewing looked up sad, fearful. Then we've not only destroyed their tribe but we also damned the souls of all their men to live as raveners.'
Krow looked ill. Ravan was gazing uneasily over the battlefield, but then burned doubt away with anger. 'It's what they deserve. Rather them than us.'
Binding up Carnelian's wounds, Fern made no attempt to hide his contempt for his brother. Unabashed, Ravan strode to his aquar and when he was mounted, said, 'Let's go and save their women and children.'
Riding over a ridge, they saw an encampment spread on the plain.
'So many,' someone exclaimed.
'Even without their men they would still outnumber the Tribe,' said Fern.
'How can we hope to feed them all?' said Galewing.
'If you set them to work in the ditches you will be free to hunt more,' said Osidian. 'In time you can use their labour to extend the Koppie.'
As they rode closer, Carnelian saw the Bluedancing had formed their drag-cradles into a barricade behind which they stood waiting. Osidian brought the warband to a halt when the women's faces could clearly be seen peering out from under their head-blankets.
A shrill voice cried out a challenge.
'What?' Carnelian asked Fern.
'I'm not sure,' his friend replied. 'Something about their men. By the tone of her voice, a warning.'
They don't know what's happened.'
Fern looked morose. 'I think it more likely they're clinging to the hope we've got here by somehow eluding their men.'
'I wouldn't like to be the one who has to tell them,' said Krow. His statement was greeted by a murmur of agreement.
The Elders talked quickly among themselves. Kyte called over to Crowrane, who sat hunched in his saddle-chair, but the old man showed no sign of having heard. He had been like that since the battle and the death of his son.
Galewing forced a decision. 'We'll go down and talk to them.'
Osidian interrupted Ravan as he began to translate. 'I understood.'
They watched the Elders and the men who had lost children to the Bluedancing ride down towards the barricade. What if the women became violent? Carnelian did not doubt Osidian would be prepared to attack them.
The Elders were dismounting. They addressed the women over the meshed drag-cradles. Kyte made a speech. His head dropped before he was finished. A wave of consternation moved round the circle of the defenders. They began detaching themselves from their defensive ring and running to where Kyte was speaking. His posture betrayed his shame, as he turned to point up the slope. Wailing wafted on the wind. The Elders fell into a long discussion with them.
'Father above, what can they be finding to talk about?' said Ravan.
Osidian made him fall silent with a look. 'Everything depends on how much they love their children.'
Carnelian's heart was down there with the Bluedancing women. He watched the Elders remount and ride back.
They'll agree to come with us for the sake of their children,' Galewing cried out while he was still some distance away. 'But they demand that they be allowed to collect the bodies of their men for proper burial.'
Osidian waited until the Elders had reached him before he spoke. 'We can't allow this.'
'Why not?' Kyte asked.
Osidian raised an eyebrow. 'If you insist, I shall point out the obvious. Firstly, it would delay our return to the Tribe. They'll already be worrying about us and, besides, the longer we remain out here the greater the danger to us all from raveners. Secondly, this would mean we have to take those bodies back to the Koppie. Can you imagine the Ochre welcoming so many dead? Not to mention the sheer labour of it. Thirdly and, perhaps, most importantly, how do you think those women down there will feel towards the Ochre when they see all their men dead? You can see how numerous they are. How could we hope to control them in their grief?'
Kyte frowned and glanced back at the barricade in misery. He shook his head. 'Perhaps we should just let them die.'
'If that's your wish,' said Osidian.
The old men returned to the barricade, round-shouldered. When they gave out their decision, the wailing grew so that even at that distance, Carnelian felt harrowed. The children stolen from the Ochre were being given back. The women untangled their drag-cradles and began to load them up.
The Elders returned wan and tearful. 'We should help them.'
Osidian shook his head. 'In their midst we'd only give their grief a focus for revenge.'
So it was the Ochre sat and watched until at last a mass of the Bluedancing came up the slope towards them, a great march of aquar pulling drag-cradles. Looking among them Carnelian could see the dejected faces of the women, their snotty children, but it was to the people leading them that his eyes were drawn: old women, their grey hair jewelled with salt, their eyes brighter still with hatred and a staring disbelief.
Uncertain, the Tribe watched their men approach followed by the mass of the Bluedancing. The returning men and their women gazed at each other over the divide and Carnelian could feel the yearning drawing them together. The pull of it was stronger than their wariness at the crowd of strangers. The riders accelerated into a wild rush and the women came streaming out to meet them. Carnelian found himself left behind with Osidian and the Elders; the dead and wounded. The aquar slowed, then intermingled with the advancing women. Men were slipping down from their saddle-chairs into the continuous turmoiled mass in which everyone was shouting, hugging, kissing. It was through this the women Elders came riding with Harth and Akaisha at their head.
Carnelian smiled at Akaisha but her eyes were fixed on the people and drag-cradles coming up behind them.
The Bluedancing,' announced Galewing.
'All their women. All their children,' said Kyte.
Harth frowned. 'What are they doing here?'
'It'll take some time to explain,' said Galewing.
Ravan's aquar advanced. He grinned. 'We won a great victory and killed all their men.'
'All?' Akaisha gasped, in horror.
'Did anyone tell you, child, that you could speak?' said Harth, severely.
Ravan recoiled as if she had slapped him. He opened his mouth to say something, but a sharp look from his mother made him shut it again. He focused on his knees, struggling to contain his anger.
Harth turned her glare on the Elder men. 'What is this you've allowed to happen?'
The boy spoke out of turn, Harth, but he spoke truth,' said Kyte. 'We snatched victory from a dangerous defeat.'
'You mean the Master did!' erupted Ravan, before he rode off towards the Ochre crowd.
Harth gave Akaisha a glance of approbation and then her eyes fell on the Elder men. 'Did we suffer loss?'
Her face paled as she saw none were prepared to meet her gaze. She noticed Crowrane, head bowed. 'Husband?' She rode to him, spoke again but still he did not respond. She noticed the drag-cradle hanging behind his aquar. She dismounted and, seeming infinitely old, walked round to find her son lying dead in it.
'How many dead?' asked Ginkga, tearful as she watched Harth collapse to her knees beside her son.
Nervously, Kyte gave a full account of their casualties.
Akaisha indicated the Bluedancing. 'And why are they here?'
'We couldn't very well leave them to die,' said Galewing.
'Which they would do without their men,' added Kyte.
Akaisha looked severe. 'We don't need lessons in husbandry from you, though perhaps you could tell us how we're going to manage to feed them all?'
'If you set them to work in the ditches we will be free to hunt more,' said Galewing.
'We can use their labour to extend the Koppie,' added Kyte and it seemed to Carnelian that Osidian was speaking through their mouths.
The Elder women greeted these suggestions with a thorny silence.
'We have back the children they stole from us,' said Kyte.
The women nodded. Ginkga shook her head. 'Was this worth the spilling of so much blood?'
Galewing glanced at Osidian. 'The Master has suggested we could send their tithe children to the Mountain in place of our own.'
The women started in amazement. Ginkga was the first to recover her composure.
There is something shameful in this.'
Akaisha's face showed she believed she was speaking not only for herself but for many of the others when she said: 'But there is also hope.'
In the days that followed, the Tribe plodded on through the mud and storms drawn by the yearning to be home. The Bluedancing slogged on behind like the Tribe's grim shadow. Gradually, people were becoming accustomed to them being there. News had spread of the plan to save their children. Carnelian sensed many could not help seeing this as a gift the Master had given them beyond even the victory that had brought most of their men back safely from the battle. Like him, others were drawing reassurance from glancing back at the treasure of these foreign children. Unease increased when the Tribe began to grow familiar with them. People told each other that the Bluedancing children were bound to suffer from the same fatal arrogance as their fathers. Soon Ochre youngsters were being forbidden to play with the Bluedancing. It was said that their marked children would have gone to the Mountain anyway; that they deserved to go. The list of claims and accusations grew until the rainy wind had washed away the stain of guilt from the faces and hearts of the Tribe.
In the lull before the dawn, Carnelian was woken by whimpering. He rose, knowing it was Poppy. Sil had told him that, since the night of the Bluedancing raid, the girl had been suffering from nightmares of which she would not speak. Carnelian rose and woke her. Poppy flung herself on him. He thought her shaking a result of her being cold and drew her into his blanket. There was light enough to see her staring blindly. When he asked her gently what she was seeing, it all came pouring out.
The black demons had attacked as her tribe returned, joyous to be home. Her mother had managed to reach the ditch carrying Poppy. They had tumbled into the outer ditch and managed to find a hiding place. Morning revealed her mother dead. Then Poppy's tale grew garbled. Carnelian gleaned that she had hidden in the ditches from the demons who were haunting her koppie. At night she would creep out to dig up fernroot which she ate raw. She drank from pools deep in the ditches. When she had heard the Ochre tributaries calling she had thought it a trap but had eventually come out. They had allowed her to return to her mother tree.
Poppy looked up into his eyes. 'Is it true I'm no longer going to the Mountain?'
Carnelian suppressed his foreboding at what the price might be for her salvation and nodded. She buried her face in his chest and began sobbing. Her grief did not open to anything he said. He grew desperate, not knowing what she was feeling. At last she calmed down enough to say: 'She's dead. I killed her.'
'Who?'
'My seed.'
Carnelian sagged with relief. She watched him fumble in his robe. When he pulled his hand out he opened it to reveal the seed and was rewarded by wide-eyed wonder and delight.
When the familiar shape of the Koppie was spied against the stormy sky, the Tribe wept tears of joy and, imagining themselves already sitting under their trees, felt suddenly exhausted. They struggled on, cursing every step, urging each other to ever greater speed with promises of the homely comforts of their hearths.
When they were close enough, their march dissolved into a furious dash to see who would be first to reach the outer Lagoonbridge. Carnelian's heart was pounding. He too was desperate to be safe within the rings of the Koppie's ditches. He almost gave way to the eagerness he could feel his aquar had to join the race, but then he saw sullen Ravan, nervous Krow, and between them Osidian, his ivory face indifferent to the Tribe's excitement. This Masterly serenity disturbed Carnelian and forced him to remember the Bluedancing. Craning round, he saw them stretching away so far behind they seemed to be a frayed hem to the stormclouds. They showed no joy but only a sad weariness. For them there would never again be a homecoming.
The Koppie's welcome was everything Carnelian had hoped for. That first night, the Tribe held a solemn feast of thanksgiving for their safe return; for the Father's rain that they prayed would renew the Earth and bring healthy children and easy births. Loskai and the other men who had fallen in the battle were given sky-burial. The Bluedancing killed by Osidian in the raid was to work out his debt to the Tribe as a huskman. Whin and her husband, Ravenseye, among others, were elevated to the Elders.
The hearth had returned to find every branch of Akaisha's mother tree edged with new jade growth and the rootearth beneath littered with her seeds, many of which had germinated. Both seeds and seedlings were lovingly plucked and buried deep among their mother's roots. Now that Poppy had been reprieved, Carnelian asked Akaisha if she might be allowed to plant her seed. Tenderly, Akaisha had told him it was already too late that year but that she would talk to the other Elders and see if it might be allowed before they set off on their next migration.
Rain continued to fall in heavy, but intermittent showers. Sometimes, the clouds would tease apart revealing sky that was the purest blue. The red earth responded by uncurling fresh fronds into the humid warming days and, as if this were a sign, the women of the Tribe seemed to give birth all at once. Soon the sun was reigning over a world so green it hurt Carnelian's eyes. Ambling, the saurian giants returned, their herds stretching along the horizon.
Carnelian slipped back naturally into the rhythms of koppie life. It was better this time, because Fern no longer had to work beneath the Bloodwood Tree. He became the companion Osidian had long ceased to be. The Elders and others muttered against the Master when he made himself a hearth under one of the unclaimed cedars that buttressed the Homeditch, though none opposed him openly. Ravan, Krow and many other youths joined him there and each day he would lead them to fetch water. To meet the needs of the Koppie, almost three times as many men and aquar were needed now. Ravan relayed Osidian's wishes to the men and they obeyed willingly. Since the battle, many would follow no other.
Each day when they set off they would ride down the leafy avenue past the encampment of the Bluedancing which lay between the Homeditch and the Outditch. The femgarden had become a village from which smoke was always rising. The Bluedancing were brought water and what food the Tribe did not need. In return, the women and children replaced the men at the ditches, labouring in the mud to shore them up where the Rains had brought collapse. There were so many new workers that even the Ochre women began to free themselves from this heavy work. They told themselves it was necessary, because the men had to hunt more often and the women to gather more fernroot to maintain an adequate food supply. Eventually, the only Ochre remaining at the earthworkings were those who acted as overseers.
One evening, as they sat around the hearth, the discussion turned, as it often did, to the subject of the Bluedancing.
There're so many of them,' Sil complained.
'And their settlement has devastated a large part of the Southgarden,' said Whin, who still looked strange with salt beads in her hair.
'With all their extra aquar, I can see we won't make the end of the season before we'll be forced to take them out of the Koppie to graze.'
There was much grumbling at this suggestion.
The Bluedancing eat so much.'
'And at the moment they're supplementing what we give them with the djada they've saved from their migration. What'll happen when that runs out? How much hunting will we have to do?'
People hung their heads, worrying about it.
Sil looked at Akaisha and Whin. 'If we don't feed them they might rise against us.'
Several of the men snorted their derision at this suggestion. 'What threat are women and children?'
'My daughter's right, they outnumber us,' said Whin.
'Even without their men,' Sil added.
'And you're not always here,' Whin said to the men.
Fern looked grave. 'And we're going to be out hunting, perhaps further afield than we're used to.'
'Couldn't we send them back to their own koppie?' said Koney.
Akaisha shook her head. 'Without men to hunt for them, we'd be condemning them to death. If our situations were reversed, would you want to be thrown out onto the plain with your children?'
Nursing her newborn, Koney shook her head. 'No, my mother.'
Whin frowned. 'Our compassion might yet bring us disaster.'
'Perhaps we should consider using their labour to extend the Koppie, as the Master has said.' Ravan had come visiting as he sometimes did. People no longer felt him part of their hearth.
The Elders don't need the Master to work that out for them,' said Akaisha without looking at him. The area of new land we would have to enclose would have to be enormous to solve the problem of grazing the aquar as well as to bring enough fernroot into safe gathering to feed us all.'
Then we must hunt more,' said Fern.
'We already hunt more,' said Akaisha. 'And though we're hunting enough to feed everyone, not enough's left over to make djada for the next migration.'
Everyone looked grimly into the fire. They looked up as Ravan stood to speak.
The Master sent me to tell you he's devised a way in which more than enough food can be provided for everyone.'
Ravan stopped to take pleasure in their rapt attention. Tell us then’ snapped Whin.
Ravan shook his head. 'He's not yet sure, my mother; he's not fully worked it out, but it would necessitate all the Tribe working together under his direction.'
'Would it indeed?' said Whin angrily, but Carnelian could see, though she tried to hide it, how attentively Akaisha was listening to her son.
'When will he be ready to reveal to us this plan?'
'It'll be ready when the Elders give him the authority to put it into action.'
Though Akaisha and Whin frowned, Carnelian saw they were considering it and only then did he fully appreciate how desperate the situation had become.
One day, Carnelian and Fern were fetching water with Osidian and his hunt along the margin of the bellower lagoon. Flamingos in fiery clouds had just touched down and their chatter and busy sculling were rippling both air and water.
Carnelian was watching fish darting. 'It's a miracle,' he announced. They have sprung up from what was dust.'
'Mother Earth is bountiful,' said Fern, then smiled, 'just after the Skyfather's made love to her.'
Their musings were disturbed by a call from Krow. They saw an aquar speeding towards them.
'News from the Koppie?' said Fern and everyone frowned expecting the worst.
The aquar skidded to a halt. The Elders command that the two Standing Dead should appear before them.'
As Ravan translated, Carnelian glanced at Osidian, expecting defiance but saw only a mild, even contented, acquiescence.
'We'll ride back with you,' he said, then turned to Ravan. 'You will come with us.'
'I'll come too,' said Fern.
'You will remain here,' Osidian said, severely.
Fern looked to Carnelian, but he was seeing how much his friend's defiance had angered the other men. Fearing what might happen should he support him against the Master, Carnelian decided to say nothing and, angry, Fern backed down.
Osidian was smiling coldly as he gave Krow command of the hunt. The youth looked at Fern as if he were measuring him up. Riding away, Carnelian worried that he had made a mistake in leaving Fern behind at the mercy of Osidian's followers.