A man's desires are the best hook to catch him.
In the dusk it was hard to see the Master on the knoll against the baobab that rose behind him like the night. Morunasa's presence was only betrayed by the blinking of his eyes.
The pale slit in the Master's uba scanned the Plainsmen he had gathered to hear him. Tomorrow, with your approval, I would go down to the land of the Manila.'
Among the crowd, Carnelian was deafened as they rose in uproar. Osidian's pale hands lifted to calm them.
'While I am away, the ladder down into the chasm must be repaired.'
The men erupted again, so that Carnelian was carried a few steps up the slope in their surge.
Fern pushed past him higher still. 'Why, Master, so that the murdering bastards can swarm up to destroy us?'
'If that had been their intention, do you not think they could have done so long ago?' Osidian's contempt withered them to silence. Their attacks on the Earthsky were incidental; merely a way in which they sought to regain access to their shrine,' he pointed, 'the Isle of Flies.
The Ladder is the only link between the Lower and this Upper Reach. When it was cut by a revolt of their pygmy slaves, they were forced to send armies through swamp and jungle up onto the Earthsky. There they killed for the water and djada that they needed to get here.'
More men moved up to join Fern; among them, Ravan. The youth stabbed a finger at Morunasa.
'If we kill the Maruli, no news will reach his people of the destruction of their expedition. They have tried twice already and failed. What makes you believe, Master, they will dare to try again?'
A Darkcloud stood forward. 'Let's burn their Isle of Flies as they burned my tribe's mother trees.'
Morunasa bared his teeth. 'Any man who crosses to the Isle will be devoured by the Darkness-under-the-Trees. Understand this, Flatlanders, you may kill me, but my brethren in the land below will never forsake the dwelling of our Lord.'
'You see?' said Osidian. They will plague us until they have their Ladder back.'
Carnelian thought it time he said something. 'Why do you need to go down there with the Maruli?'
Osidian gazed at Carnelian for some moments. To make sure they believe that there is no need to send another force.'
Carnelian could not fault this. Osidian continued.
'Enough has been said. Now you must decide what is to be done.'
With that, he turned his back on them. Carnelian pushed his way to Fern's side. His friend recoiled. 'What if he sees us together?'
'We'll have to take the risk. Too much hangs on this decision.'
Fern saw the truth of it. 'Why is he doing this? Could it be as it seems that he does not want the Marula to interfere with his plans?'
Carnelian glanced over to the ladder Osidian and Morunasa had descended earlier. 'I cannot believe that is the only reason he brought us here.'
Fern spoke in his ear. 'We could kill him now.'
Carnelian considered that, then made sure before he spoke he was not doing so for emotional reasons. 'No. If we did, we'd not only have the problem of controlling the different tribes but there would be no way of reassuring them we knew how to deal with the Marula threat.'
Fern frowned. 'Combined, we could defeat anything they threw at us.'
'Combined, perhaps…'
Fern grimaced, knowing that such unity would be nigh impossible to achieve using any methods other than the Master's.
'And besides, we'd have to leave men behind in the koppies for the Sky knows how many Witherings.'
Fern nodded, wearily. He looked around him. 'As long as we control this Upper Reach the Marula are powerless against us.'
'So we go along with him?'
Fern glanced up to where the looming baobab had swallowed the Master and the Maruli. He leaned close to Carnelian. 'And kill him when he returns.'
Their eyes met in agreement. They parted, and Fern moved among the Plainsmen giving the Master's proposal support where it was needed. When Osidian asked what they had decided, grudgingly, the Plainsmen gave his plan their assent.
They camped upon the summit of the knoll. The Plainsmen huddled gratefully round the fires they had made with the dead wood they had found lying everywhere. Carnelian sat chewing djada with Fern, Krow, Ravan and others of Akaisha's hearth. Looking round at the familiar faces helped ease his anxiety about the decision he had made. Even through his brooding, Carnelian felt he and they, even Ravan, belonged to each other.
Two shadows forming out of the darkness made them all jump.
'We shall sit with you,' one of them said. Osidian's face came into the firelight followed by Morunasa's. Osidian chose to sit between Fern and Carnelian so that the Plainsman had to move away round the fire. The Maruli found a place on Osidian's left. Carnelian fixed his gaze deep into the flames and busied himself with chewing. A waterskin was passed around. When it was Carnelian's turn he put his lips to its spout, but had to tip it so much, that he did not feel he could take more than was essential to moisten the djada. He passed the skin to Osidian who drained it.
'We need water,' said Ravan, daring to glare at the Master.
There is plenty in the river.'
His words produced a mutter of discontent in Ochre. 'What are they saying?' Osidian asked Carnelian. Carnelian told him without taking his eyes from the fire.
'If they fear to fill their skins from the Blackwater,' Morunasa said through a sneer, 'they can drink from the caches the pygmies kept in these baobabs.' He lifted a chalky hand to indicate the giants looming round them in the dark.
'I saw no jars,' said Carnelian.
'Did I not say, in the baobabs?'
They're hollow?'
Chewing, Morunasa gave a nod.
Carnelian remembered the openings he had seen in the charred trees. Osidian looked around the fire. 'All of you go and search these out.'
The Plainsmen were reluctant to leave their fire, but they obeyed. Fern gave Carnelian a glance before disappearing into the night with them.
Carnelian felt a touch on his arm and turned to look at Osidian.
'We need to talk, you and I,' he said in Quya.
Carnelian was reluctant, but gave a nod.
'While I am gone it shall be your paramount task to rebuild the Ladder.'
Carnelian remembered the mess of the ropes he had seen so far down the chasm wall. 'It will be a great labour.'
'You can use aquar to lift it.'
Carnelian looked out over the camp. 'Still, men will have to be sent down somehow to attach ropes to the Ladder. It will be dangerous work.'
'I do not wish you to risk them.'
'Who else?'
'Sartlar,' said Osidian, a strange light showing again in his eyes.
Carnelian gawped.
Osidian patted the ground with his hand. 'Yes, they are here beneath our feet. They infest caves gouged into the wall of the chasm.'
The other ladder,' Carnelian said. The one you descended with Morunasa?'
Osidian nodded. He leaned forward to capture Carnelian in his gaze. 'Listen to me and listen well: the Plainsmen must not descend that ladder. If you have need, go there alone. If you do, you will understand why it is I say this. You hear my words?'
Carnelian nodded, staring, confused. Something occurred to him. 'How shall I summon them?'
'Strike the cables of their ladder thrice and they will come.'
Carnelian returned to his fire-watching. The sartlar were there beneath his feet as they had been in the bowels of the ship as oarsmen on the voyage to the Three Lands. He wondered what they were doing in the Upper Reach and what it was Osidian was so determined to hide from the Plainsmen.
'When I return it will be with Manila Oracles and their pygmy slaves.'
'And then you shall give them back this place.'
Osidian glanced at Morunasa, who frowned. 'We shall see.'
Fern and the others appeared, looking frightened. The trees are all filled with children dried like huskmen.' 'What did he say?' asked Morunasa. Carnelian translated.
Morunasa gave a snort. 'Not children, Flatlander, pygmies.'
'But they're dead,' Fern said.
Morunasa showed his pointed teeth. 'It would be strange if they were not; it's the tradition of the forest people to place their dead within the hollowed bellies of trees.'
Carnelian felt Osidian's hand grip his arm and turned to look into his eyes.
'Once, Carnelian, I knew in my heart you would give your life to save mine.'
They regarded each other with a sadness that made Fern and Krow both ask what was the matter. Osidian's gaze did not allow Carnelian to say anything to them and they stepped back, silent.
'Now it has become necessary for me to say to you that on my return, should the Ladder be not repaired, or should I receive any impediment to my ascent, then I shall offer myself to the Manila to lead their next attack on the Earthsky. If that should come to pass, be sure I will annihilate the Ochre.'
Hatred rose in Carnelian. Could Osidian manage nothing without threats or terror? He almost thanked him for making it easier to kill him.
Carnelian was trapped in the cabin of a ship riding a stormy sea. The smell of iron lingering in the air made him queasy. He leaned against a bulkhead. Under his touch its surface was dry and powdery. He lifted his hand and peered at where it had been resting. Hri-bread riddled with holes. The cabin was made of it; the ship. He could feel her hull soaking up the salty sea. Dark water welled up from the floor. The iron smell of blood. When he tried to pull his feet up he felt them tearing off at the ankles. It was disorientating that he felt no pain. His skin writhed and itched. He leaned over and saw his legs were bread. As he brought his hands close, they left a wake of fine powder in the air. His hands were porous, every hole itching from the writhe of weevils.
He awoke gasping. It was night in the garden of the Yden. The branches of the pomegranate trees were stark against the sky. Why were they leafless? He had believed autumn never came to Osrakum. He sat up. Hunched shapes were swarming in the darkness. His heart beat up into his mouth. They had come again for him and Osidian. Or was it his father they wished to wound? He closed his eyes and fought confusion. His mind cleared. He was in the Upper Reach. When he opened his eyes again, the night was as lifeless as the baobabs.
Carnelian woke still oppressed by his nightmare. He imagined the baobabs as corpses riddled with the maggots of pygmy cadavers and shuddered. He sought distraction in watching Osidian wander around their camp selecting those who were to remain behind. The rest seemed only too happy to saddle their aquar. Soon they had descended the knoll and were riding up the escarpment, while those who were left watched forlornly.
On the chasm edge, Carnelian busied himself helping to devise a way to lower Osidian and Morunasa down to the
Ladder. It seemed impossibly far away but, Morunasa assured them, only the top fifth or so had come loose; the rest was still firmly held to the rock by wooden wedges.
Ropes were found and Osidian elected to go first. 'I shall announce my return with smoke,' he said in Quya.
Carnelian nodded and then they lowered him with the help of an aquar, using one of the Ladder anchor trees as a capstan. Morunasa was next. When the rope went slack, Carnelian joined the Plainsmen craning over the edge to watch the tiny figures descend the Ladder to the chasm floor.
'What now?' Ravan asked.
Carnelian eyed the youth. 'We repair the Ladder.' 'And if we choose not to help you?' 'I won't need your help.' Fern's eyebrows rose.
Carnelian pushed his way past Ravan and walked along the chasm edge until he came to the tensioned cables of the sartlar ladder. Ravan, Fern and many of the other Plainsmen followed him.
'What're you doing, Carnie?' asked Fern.
'You'll see soon enough.' Carnelian hung himself on the nearest cable, then let it go. A satisfying quiver could be heard ratding down into the chasm.
'Where does this go?' Ravan asked, but Carnelian ignored him and pulled the cable down twice more. Then he waited. As time passed and nothing happened, he grew embarrassed. Carnelian pulled on the cable three times more in quick succession. He went to the edge and looked over. The rippling in the netting stilled, then nothing.
'What's going on?' Fern pleaded.
Carnelian confronted them. 'I'm trying to summon the sartlar the Master told me are lodged in caves beneath our feet.'
Ignoring their looks of disbelief, Carnelian turned his back on the fall, knelt on the chasm edge and, taking hold of the netting, lowered himself down.
The ladder was like rigging. Clambering down it, Carnelian snagged his foot often, so that each time he had to, precariously, disentangle it. He froze whenever he caught a glimpse of the rock face plunging away into the dizzying depths.
At last, reaching down and waving his foot around, Carnelian could find nothing but air. Peering down caused him to clutch the netting. There was nothing but space below him. Feeling a quivering in the netting, he looked up and saw Fern descending.
'What are you doing?' he called up.
Fern peered down. 'I'd have thought that was obvious. I'm coming with you.'
Carnelian sank his head with exasperation. The Master expressly forbade it.'
'He's not here though, is he?'
Carnelian could hear the smile in his friend's tone and, glancing up, saw him grinning. Carnelian was unable to stay angry and returned the grin.
'I suppose now that you're here already…'
'I thought you might see it my way,' said Fern, smugly.
The others?'
'I'm the only one stupid enough to risk it.'
Both laughed. Carnelian felt a surge of emotion as he realized how much he had missed his friendship. The netting shook again as Fern resumed his descent.
'Wait,' Carnelian cried up, remembering the netting ran out below him. Looking to his left, he saw a ledge. Cold sweat sheathed his skin as he judged the swing to reach it.
Fern's voice drifted down from above. 'What's going on?'
'Hold on,' Carnelian cried. He reminded himself that Osidian and Moranasa had done it. He moved to the edge of the netting and leaned his body into the cable to which it was attached.
'Here goes,' he muttered. Clambering astride the cable, he let go and fell onto the ledge. He sidled along it and with a sigh of relief found the mouth of a cave. He spent moments peering into its gloom before Fern's thin voice brought him back to look up at the ladder.
Fern's face was twisted with anxiety. Carnelian explained what he had done and then retreated back into the safety of the cave. He heard the rasp of the ladder as its rope rubbed against the rock and then, after a few agonizing moments, Fern slipped round the rock and Carnelian grabbed him. They clung to each other laughing. Their eyes met and they fell silent. They drew apart. Fern blew out and shook his head. That was no fun at all.'
They squinted into the cave, listening.
'Can you hear anything?' Fern whispered.
Leaning into the cave mouth, Carnelian cried out in a clear ringing voice. 'Attend me.'
The gloom swallowed his words, then the echoes. Nothing stirred in the depths.
'We're going to have to go in,' said Carnelian.
Fern looked incredulous. 'In there?'
'You stay here.'
Fern shook his head. 'Where you go, I go.'
They gathered their courage and advanced into the cave mouth. When they had gone only a little way it became difficult to see. Carnelian put his mouth to Fern's ear.
'Sartlar are monstrous, but harmless.' He felt Fern nodding.
They penetrated deeper, their hands sculling the damp air as they groped for the walls. On and on they crept. Carnelian thought of calling out, but did not dare. He was considering turning back when he saw some light dawning ahead.
Torchlight?' Fern whispered.
Carnelian shrugged.
The light flickered brighter and they found they were coming into a region lit by a brazier.
Carnelian jumped when Fern lurched. 'What is it?' he hissed.
Fern pointed to the vague shapes ahead, both more alive than shadows. As they drew closer, these apparitions grew larger.
'Our reflections,' whispered Carnelian. He leaned close to the wall. Following a hunch he licked his finger, rubbed it down the wall, tasted it, then stood back amazed. 'Salt.'
Fern gaped. 'Salt?' He gingerly stretched out his hand to touch it.
Taste it,' whispered Carnelian.
Fern did and his eyes grew enormous as he surveyed the cavern in which they stood. 'All salt,' he gasped.
'Who knows how much. Perhaps the whole cliff.' He let out a low whistle. 'No wonder he didn't want you Plainsmen to see this.'
Fern stared at him. The Master knows about this?'
'The Maruli brought him down here, remember.'
Fern gave a slow nod. There's enough here to make the Tribe rich.'
There may well be enough here to buy the whole of the Earthsky,' said Carnelian, grimly.
Fern's look of wonder soured. This is why the Master brought us here.'
Carnelian nodded. 'I knew there was something else. No wonder the Marula are desperate to regain this place.'
Fern reached out to touch the salt wall. 'If the men found out…'
They looked grimly at each other.
'We can't let him have so much power,' said Carnelian voicing their common thought.
The moment he returns, he dies.'
Carnelian was gripped by a rage against Osidian for driving them to murder. 'Come on.'
Deeper into the cavern, it narrowed into a cleft. Squeezing through, they came into a new cavern dimly lit in which an animal odour hung heavy in the air.
This – Carnelian began, but suddenly he tensed, sensing movement in the air, a rustling. Peering into the gloom, he saw the chamber before them was filling with shadows. Sartlar, menacing in their silence. Though their lank hair concealed their eyes, he could feel them watching him. Not for a long while had he felt so strongly the need for a mask. He straightened, and as he did the sartlar drew back moaning. He froze. When he lifted his hand a shudder moved through their mass.
'You terrify them,' whispered Fern.
Carnelian regarded the creatures with pity. He had good cause to know what cruel treatment they expected.
'I am a Master,' he said gently in Vulgate. They answered him with a muttering fear.
'We know… what you are,' a voice trembled from their midst.
The heads of the sartlar eddied as if a boat were cutting through them and a sartlar emerged. A creature the size of a child but with large, calloused hands and leathery feet like spades. As the creature shambled closer, Carnelian saw it was clothed in a matting of grey hair. It came close enough so he could smell its vinegar odour. He fought disgust. With a groan, it fell heavily to its knees. Pity, distaste, embarrassment even, all these emotions flowed through Carnelian as he looked down from his great height upon that pathetic bundle.
'Rise,' he said as kindly as he could manage.
The creature stumbled up onto its feet. It even dared to look up at him. The grey, greasy locks parted to show a gnarled leathery face, disfigured by the branding of the circular 'earth' glyph that proclaimed it a sartlar from the Guarded Land. He wondered what strange circumstances could have brought such a creature so far. He noticed the twin pockets of flesh sagging down the chest. Those dugs proved it was a female of its kind. Even though he could not see her eyes, he knew she was regarding him. Something about her manner made Carnelian recall the sartlar who had been kind to him when he himself had been a slave.
'She worships you,' hissed Fern.
Carnelian was wrenched free of his fascination. He spoke over his shoulder. 'How did we appear to you when you first looked upon us? To these creatures the Standing Dead must be like gods.'
'Our magic…' said the sartlar woman.
He looked down at her again and this time caught the glimmer of her dark eyes as they dared to search his face. Her scrutiny made him feel abused. From deep inside him rose a desire to have her taken away, disposed of.
'What?' he said, fighting the Masterly instinct.
'It can't work against you,' she said.
'I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about.'
'You want us to work…?'
'Repairing the Ladder.' For some reason he found he was pointing vaguely back the way they had come, as if they could see the ladder of which he spoke.
The sartlar woman greeted his comment with silence. Her fellow creatures shifted like aquar behind her.
'I hoped the other Master might have made arrangements with you. ..' He bit his lip, not understanding his discomfiture.
The woman struck her forehead off the floor with a crack that made Carnelian wince.
'As the Master commands, so shall it be done.'
Carnelian stood for some moments more before, following Fern, they quit that place; almost running, so desperate were they to cleanse their lungs with bright, fresh air.
The disgust produced among the Plainsmen by the sartlar as they poured up from the netting avoided any questions about the caves. Seeing the creatures huddling in a herd, Carnelian began to wonder if they would be any use in repairing the Ladder. The sartlar he had spoken to before stood, head hanging, close enough he could smell her rank odour.
'Do you know what to do?' he asked her.
'What the Master commands,' she answered without lifting her head.
Then I say that you and the rest of your kind must repair the Ladder.'
'As you command, Master.'
Her submissiveness irritated him: the Plainsmen looking on turned this feeling to anger.
'How am I supposed to…?' His voice tailed off.
'You're the Master,' the sartlar muttered.
As he walked along the chasm edge, everyone followed him. Peering over, he saw the broken Ladder. At that distance it was just a nest of rope.
'I'll have to go down there myself,' he said.
Krow stood forward. 'I'll go, Master.'
Carnelian smiled at the youth's eagerness. Thank you, Krow, but I need to see the damage for myself.'
As Krow's face fell, Fern spoke up. 'Carnie, you should let him go. He'll be able to tell you what he sees.'
Carnelian was warmed by what he saw in Fern's eyes. His friend fixed him with an intense look. 'If you should die?'
Carnelian understood Fern's fear. If anything should happen to him, how could the Master be thwarted?
'A Master can't die,' said a husky voice.
Carnelian saw the sartlar woman had crept up beside them. He gazed at her, wondering what she meant. He supposed that, to a sartlar, the Masters might well appear to be immortal.
'Let me go, Master,' said Krow.
Carnelian saw Fern's nod and gave way.
They tied Krow to the rope they had used to lower Osidian and Morunasa then, slowly, they lowered him down into the chasm.
After a while, Carnelian turned to Fern. 'Why were you so keen he should go?'
'He's taken the Master's rejection hard. He needs something to distract him.'
Krow had reached the Ladder. Carnelian watched him examine it. i fear he merely wishes to follow the Master.'
'If that's so, isn't it better he should do so with our help than without?'
Carnelian glanced at Fern and saw the truth of it.
Krow was waving. Carnelian gave the order to draw him back up. When the youth appeared over the edge, Carnelian grabbed hold of him. Krow looked pale but pleased with himself. Carnelian waited until he had calmed down a little before asking him to describe what he had seen. Carnelian pondered the problem.
'Have you worked out how to do it?' Fern asked at last.
'I think so,' said Carnelian. He put the back of a fist against the palm of his other hand. 'At the moment, the broken portion of the Ladder is sort of curled like my fist.' He looked at Krow, who confirmed it with a nod. Carnelian allowed his hand to uncurl. 'If we attach ropes from up here we can unroll the Ladder up the cliff high enough to secure it into the forked posts that Krow says have been left in the rock. Attaching ropes progressively higher each time' – his fist uncurled until the hand lay flat against the other – 'we should be able to bring it all the way up here.'
'And what do we do then?' asked Fern. 'We attach it to those anchor trees,' said Carnelian indicating the two baobabs with their rope girdles. 'How?'
Carnelian noticed the sartlar woman was watching his hands. 'We can sort that out once we get there.'
He turned to the sartlar and pushed his hands closer to her. 'You understand this?'
She gave a nod. 'Yes, Master.'
'We'll need lots of ropes, each long enough to reach the Ladder below.'
'We understand,' said the sartlar.
'We'll have to lower your people down there to attach the ropes
…'
She turned her disfigured face up to look at him. 'People?'
He indicated the others of her kind with his hand. She looked round. 'Sartlar,' she said.
'We can use aquar to pull the ropes.'
The woman sunk her head.
'Is there anything the matter?' he asked her.
'Better we should do it, Master.'
He frowned. The Ladder will be immensely heavy.'
She struck the ground with her foot. 'We take our strength from the earth.'
Carnelian shrugged. 'I'll trust you… What are you called?'
The sartlar looked up, her eyes so narrowed the folds almost closed them altogether.
Carnelian grew uncomfortable under that scrutiny. 'You have a name?'
'Kor, Master.'
Carnelian was surprised. In Quya, that sound was the word for death.
'Well, Kor,' he said. 'You'll explain to the other…?' 'People
…?' she suggested.
Carnelian felt off-balance. 'Yes…'
'As the Master commands,' said Kor and falling to her knees, made an abject prostration before him. He waited for her to get up but she lay there as if she were dead.
'You can go.'
The mess of rags came alive and was soon hobbling off towards the other sartlar.
'Disgusting creatures,' Fern said.
Carnelian turned on him. 'Her kind, even more than the Plainsmen, are the victims of the Standing Dead.'
Over the following days, the sartlar went at their task like ants. Krow assumed the role of overseer, but soon gave this up. The sartlar worked seemingly without instruction, though sometimes Carnelian saw Kor moving among them and concluded she must be directing them.
Sartlar were lowered to the Ladder. Heavy ropes were dropped down to them which, once attached to the left cable, were hoisted so that the dangling section of the Ladder ended up folded over the part still intact. Once the pulled-up corner was secured, the ropes were removed and sartlar clambered down the dangling portion to reattach them further down the loose section. Gangs of sartlar held on to each rope and, digging their heels into the soil, heaved the whole mass up. Once raised high enough, the Ladder was made secure and the whole procedure was repeated. The strength of the sartlar amazed Carnelian so that he could almost believe Kor's boast that they were drawing it from the earth.
Confident the sartlar could work without supervision, Carnelian let the Plainsmen linger up on the knoll and took to resting in the shadow of one of the anchor baobabs with Fern. Dozing, they talked about the Tribe, the Koppie, of the life they might have once they were free of the Master.
One such time they fell to discussing how they would kill him. Upset, Carnelian declared that he would do it; that it was his responsibility. Already unhappy about this, Fern was made worse when Carnelian suggested they bring Ravan into their plot.
'Why?'
'Have you seen the way he looked at the Master? He clearly hates him.'
Fern became miserable. The Master still possesses him.'
Carnelian decided he must trust Fern's instinct.
At that moment a commotion broke out. Leaping up, he ran round the tree and saw sartlar being dragged towards the chasm by their ropes. Some who had fallen were being flayed and were forced to let go. The others picked up speed, heading for the edge.
Carnelian ran towards them, shouting: 'Let go. Let go.'
Some did, but others seemed unable to release their grip and the ropes lashed them out into space. Carnelian reached the edge in time to watch them ride the ropes down, down into the chasm. The Ladder hurtled earthwards, snapping free of the posts like cloth tearing buttons. He put his hands over his face as he watched sartlar spinning down through the air. Through his fingers, he saw far below the Ladder holding where it had held before. Its loose portion whipped into the cliff with a thud he could feel coming up through the ground.
'Great Father,' breathed Fern.
Carnelian let his hands fall and shook his head in disbelief, staring as if that might undo the disaster. He heard padding footfalls and turned to see Kor behind him.
'What happened?' he gasped.
She cowered. 'Shall I jump, Master?'
'What?' he cried.
'Punishment,' she whispered.
He understood and groaned. 'No. No, Kor. I'm sure it's not your fault.' He turned back, blaming himself. 'One of the forked posts must have given way. So much loss of life.'
There're still enough of us, Master.'
He turned on her and the outrage in his face made her collapse. 'Do you feel nothing over the loss of your people?'
Kor peered up at him. He saw behind her other sartlar nursing limbs, knees and heels bloody where they had ripped furrows in the earth. He looked down at Kor.
'Send the unwounded down to see if there're any people that can be helped.'
Kor nodded slowly, looking at him through her curtain hair.
'Shall we start all over again, Master?'
He looked off over her head. 'Perhaps… but not today and not until the wounded have had a chance to recover and, then, only if there remain enough of you.'
She stood up never taking her eyes off him. She seemed troubled.
'Is there anything more, Master?'
'Nothing,' he said.
She bowed. 'As the Master commands.'
Work resumed the following day. Laboriously, the sartlar pulled the Ladder straight again. If Carnelian had not shared their life as a slave upon the road, he might have been surprised they worked with so little fear, but he knew their lives were worthless.
In the gory sunset, Carnelian took one last look down the chasm wall and saw the Ladder had been brought so high it folded at no great distance below him. Kor had come to him saying they could finish it by night with torches, but fearing another disaster, Carnelian told her they should finish the work the following day when they would all be rested. He watched them crawl down to the saltcaves before walking back towards the anchor trees. He strummed a note from one of the ropes he had insisted they leave attached to the fold in the Ladder as a precaution should one of the forked posts fail. Fern stood by one of the anchor trees running his hands over its cable girdle.
'What are you doing?' Carnelian called out.
Fern grimaced. 'I can't see how the cables are going to be long enough to reach these trees.' He showed Carnelian where the cable had been sawn through. They'll have lost all the length you can see wrapped around this trunk.'
Carnelian considered the problem. He walked round the tree, squinting at the girdle in the failing light. 'Is this made from one continuous piece?'
Fern said it was.
Then we shall have to unwrap it and somehow or other attach it to its original cable.' 'How?'
Carnelian stood back and allowed his gaze to run up the trunk. He noticed a narrow opening in the bark high above. He pointed up at it. This one's hollow too.'
Fern looked at it. Then…' he said, his hands searching the bark. 'Aha,' he said and hung himself from a crevice. 'All the hollows have handholds up to them.'
'Another burial?'
Fern shrugged. 'Climb and see.'
Carnelian gazed up. 'Why not,' he said. 'I'm curious to see these husk pygmies.'
Fern guided Carnelian's hand to the crevice and he found another slightly higher to the right of the first. It took him a while to find some for his feet.
'You forget how small a man this was made for,' said Fern from behind him. 'You should take them two, maybe three at a time.'
Taking his advice, Carnelian began climbing the tree.
As he neared the opening he became aware of an unpleasant smell. He screwed up his nose and looked down at Fern.
'I think the bodies in this one are more recent than the others.'
He reached up to the lip of the hole, then pulled himself up into the hollow. Crouching on its edge, he covered his nose and mouth with his hand. It was too dark to see anything. He leaned out.
'Fern, could you bring me some fire to see by?'
He heard his friend running off and waited, feeling the moist breath of whatever it was that lay within the tree. It seemed an age before he saw the shaking flicker of Fern returning.
'Shall I come up too?'
'What about the fire?'
Grinning, Fern wedged the brand between his teeth and began to climb. Soon the flames were blinding Carnelian.
'Here, take it,' said Fern.
Carnelian reached down and plucked the offered branch, carefully, drew its fire past his squinting eyes and pushed it into the hollow. What he saw made him start.
Fern cried out: 'What's the matter?'
Carnelian made space for his friend to squeeze in beside him. A dark pool filled the hollow, its surface broken by a face the size of a child's.
'Perhaps the rain got in,' Carnelian suggested.
'I don't think so,' said Fern. He took the branch from Carnelian's hand and waved it over the pool.*See how thick the liquid is?'
'Like soup.'
'Render.'
Carnelian looked at his friend, whose face was luridly lit by the flames.
'Render: the stuff they fed us in the legions. It's given to men and aquar and, I heard, the dragons too. Jellied animal flesh, fat and bone. Didn't much care for it myself, though it was extravagantly laced with salt.. A veteran told me I’d grow to like it.'
Carnelian looked with horror at the face floating in the pool. 'A different kind of animal this.'
'Only raveners eat human flesh.'
They shared their disgust.
'Look, it has no eyes,' said Fern.
Carnelian saw the sockets were pools of render. He turned away, speaking between retches. 'Come on… Let's leave…'
They clambered to the ground as quickly as they could. Sweaty, they both looked up at the opening and shuddered. Carnelian found himself remembering their first night in the Upper Reach when he had had the nightmare. Taking deep breaths, he began relating it to Fern.
'I thought I had dreamed the shapes I saw moving around here.'
They looked at each other. The sartlar,' said Fern.
Carnelian nodded. 'How many pygmies do you think that pool might hold?'
'Depends on how deep it is.'
The night was populated by huge, menacing baobabs. There might be other trees like this.'
Fern shook his head. 'Every tree nearby save these has been investigated for water.'
'It seems that Morunasa was right, the pygmies didn't flee after all.'
Fern's eyes widened. Then it was the sartlar who killed them, who cut the Ladder free.'
Fear was added to Carnelian's queasiness. 'Why?'
Fern looked sick. 'And we've been sleeping night after night without posting guards.'
Carnelian tried to work it out.
Fern spoke first. 'We must go and cut the ladder to their caves.'
Carnelian took Fern's arm and pulled him away towards the knoll. 'Better to face this in the morning. Tonight, you and I will stand watch.'
Together?' Fern asked.
'No,' said Carnelian, 'one at a time. We'll each need some sleep.'
Fern stared at him aghast. 'You might manage to sleep, I know I won't.'
'Well, we should at least try and, Fern, it might be better if we weren't to mention any of this to the others until we know what's going on. There's no need to frighten them needlessly.'
'And then of course there's the Ladder to be finished,' said Fern.
'Yes, the Ladder,' said Carnelian glancing back. He shuddered, sure he could see shadows creeping around the anchor baobabs.