A war can turn on the decision of a moment.
Carnelian took the first watch. He sat with his back to the embers so that their light would not blind him to any movements in the night. Around him baobabs loomed, thrusting their skeletal arms into the starry sky. The waterfall grumbled. It was cold. He wrapped his blanket tighter round him and dug his nails into the palms of his hands to stave off sleep.
The moon rising full oozed its silver among the baobabs, betraying stark shadows gathered around the anchor trees. Frozen by the sight, wetting his lips, Carnelian readied a cry of alarm should they come creeping towards the knoll.
His eyes continued to see the sartlar even when he was certain they had returned to their caves. After that he tried not to imagine them under his feet feasting on the pygmy render.
Later, when Fern relieved him, Carnelian told him what he had seen and then, reluctantly, went to his blanket. At first he tried lying with his back to the chasm, his eyes closed, but his ears kept him awake, listening for the padding of sartlar feet. He rolled over to face his fear.
That was worse. Every sound, real or imagined, forced his eyes open to search the darkness.
At last he gave up and moved to Fern's side.
'Can't sleep,' Carnelian whispered.
Fern smiled. 'During your watch, I was only pretending.'
Carnelian sat down close to his friend.
'It's cold,' he said.
Shyly, Fern opened his blanket to welcome him. Hesitating, Carnelian shuffled closer. They managed to wrap both blankets round them. Silent, they kept watch together.
Carnelian woke to find Fern lying against him asleep. For some moments he allowed his eyes to wander over the dark face so close to his. He smiled but then jerked round to look down towards the chasm.
'What…?' his friend blurted, blinking, confused.
Carnelian could see the Plainsmen sleeping peacefully around their hearths. Some were stirring, perhaps woken by Fern's voice, among them Ravan. Ignoring the youth's stare, Carnelian turned to his friend.
'Sorry.'
Fern yawned and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. 'We fell asleep then?'
Thankfully there's no harm done.'
They stood up and stretched, groaning, their backs aching from the way they had been sleeping, propping each other up. Still wrapped in his blanket, Carnelian started walking down towards the chasm. Soon the sun would be scorching down but the morning was still cold and the ground glittered with dew.
Fern came to join him. 'Where are you going?'
Carnelian turned. To wait for our sartlar friends.'
'You were right. In the morning light, they seem less terrifying.'
When they reached the edge of the chasm, they saw it was clogged with mist. Carnelian was relieved to find the Ladder was where it had been the night before. He leaned over and looked along the wall of the chasm to the sartlar ladder.
'No sign of them.'
'Everyone sleeps late after a night of feasting,' said Fern.
Carnelian turned and saw his friend's wry grin, then walked back towards one of the anchor baobabs. When he reached it he sat, leaning his back against its trunk.
'You're going to wait for them?' asked Fern.
'I want to make sure we finish the Ladder today.'
'Do you mean to confront them?'
Carnelian frowned. 'I'm not sure yet. Do we have enough food to share with them?'
Fern frowned and shook his head. 'I'll wait with you.'
He sat down beside Carnelian and, closing their eyes, they basked in the morning sun.
The sartlar came creeping over the chasm rim, bent as if they were carrying burdens on their backs. They fell still when Carnelian rose and gibbered as he approached.
'Kor,' he called, searching for her. Though he could not see the woman this did not mean she was not there. Sartlar were more alike than aquar.
One detached from the herd. He recognized Kor by her shambling gait. As she came closer she sank to her knees. Behind her came the rest, in sullen subservience. He tried to wave them away but they did not respond. Their heads were bowed down to their feet and he could not tell if any were even looking at him.
'Come, Kor, follow me,' he said and stooped. At his touch she jerked violently, causing him to pull his hand away. He watched her get slowly to her feet, groaning.
'Are you in pain?'
The sartlar looked up at him. 'For the living the world holds nothing but pain.'
He wondered that philosophy should come from such a creature.
'Follow me.' He turned his back and walked away but did not hear her following. Looking back, he saw she had remained where she was.
'Come on,' he said more insistently. His tone seemed to jerk her to life and she hobbled after him. They walked together towards the anchor baobab in which he had found the render.
'What's in this tree, Kor?'
'We have to labour on the Ladder, Master.'
Tell me what this tree contains.'
The sartlar looked up at him through her hair. 'It's a tree, Master.'
'A hollow one.'
Her shoulders rose and fell.
'I've seen what lies in it.'
She lifted her face so that her chin emerged through her hair. He saw her raw lips opening. 'We have to eat.'
Carnelian's scrutiny lingered on her mouth with its rotting teeth. He tore his eyes away. 'Surely you could have found something else?'
'We could have eaten each other, Master.'
Carnelian failed to discern any emotion in her voice. 'You killed the pygmies.'
Again the shrug.
'Did you?' he insisted.
They tried to starve us, Master.'
Carnelian's eyes were drawn to the Isle of Flies. 'What about their masters?'
'We didn't go there,' said Kor.
He looked down at her.
The Darkness fed on the rainmen.'
'What?'
Her head fell.
'Do you mean Oracles?' Carnelian remembered something Osidian had said when he returned from the island. Cannibalism. Had a sartlar siege reduced the Oracles to that? Whatever had happened, Carnelian could guess what would befall this woman and her people should he tell Morunasa even the little she had confessed. Yet if he said nothing, who else might suffer? Osidian's death would not change the necessity to return the Upper Reach to the Oracles. If Morunasa was typical, they were merciless. Carnelian needed time to think.
'Go. Finish the Ladder.'
Kor stood like a boulder. 'Will the other Master return with rainmen?' 'I don't know.'
'Will you show them what's in the hollow tree?'
He shook his head. 'I'm not sure…'
They would feed us alive to their Darkness.'
Her filthy mouth again drew his queasy fascination. He imagined what it had been eating. Suddenly he needed to be rid of her.
'You disgust me,' he spat and immediately felt his anger gone. Almost, he apologized.
'Yes, Master.' Kor made a painful prostration before him and then retreated towards the other sartlar. Carnelian looked on grimacing, feeling something of the desperation that had driven the creatures to eating human flesh. He had experienced their lot. What right had he to judge them?
As the sartlar toiled, raising the last section of the Ladder, Carnelian, Fern, Krow and some other Plainsmen struggled to remove the girdling cables from the anchor trees. They snapped several spear hafts in the knots before they managed to work them loose.
By this time, the sartlar were drawing the ends of the Ladder up onto level ground. As had been expected, these reached just to the anchor trees but no further. It was the turn of the Plainsmen. Using thin rope as a model, Carnelian had already shown them what he wanted to do. Using knots he had learned as a child on his island, they managed to join one of the Ladder cables to the fragment they had retied around the tree. The resulting knot was larger than a man's head. It was hard to believe it would hold. As Carnelian directed the sartlar to gradually release that side of the Ladder, everything began creaking, groaning, squeezing smaller. The whole system stuttered, then fell silent. Like everyone else, Carnelian was ready to run from the whiplash should it all come apart.
'It holds,' said Fern at last, his voice loud in the silence.
Carnelian and Krow whooped and the Plainsmen joined them.
It was already getting dark when the other side of the Ladder was similarly secured. The Plainsmen celebrated while the sartlar looked on, as animated as rocks. They shied away from Carnelian as he walked in among them. He found Kor.
'You've done well.' He gazed over the sartlar. 'You've all done well.'
He looked down at Kor. 'Now go and rest.'
'Rest is forbidden us,' the woman said.
'But I've nothing more for you to do.'
The other Master commanded us to quarry salt.'
'Hush,' Carnelian said and looked round to see if any of the Plainsmen had heard her and was relieved when he saw them returning to the knoll.
He looked back at Kor. Then you must obey his commands.'
'And what shall we eat, Master?'
Carnelian grimaced. There was no spare djada. 'Eat what there is in the tree.'
'As the Master commands,' said the woman and limped off to join her fellow creatures, who were making their slow, melancholy way back to their caves.
When Carnelian returned to the knoll, the fires were already lit. Their crackle and the mutter of Plainsman voices were comforting. Fern made a space for him at his side. Carnelian sat down and took the djada offered.
The men would like you to know that most of the water caches in the trees have been drained,' Fern said, in a voice all were meant to hear.
Then we'll have to fetch water from the river.'
This was greeted with a murmur of discontent.
'We wish to return to our peoples in the mountains,' said Ravan.
'You know perfectly well the Master told us to wait here for him,' said Krow, his eyes flaming. 'And what if he doesn't return in time?' 'He will.'
Ravan stood up and looked around him. Loudly, he announced: 'Let's cut the Ladder and, in the morning, we'll leave this accursed place.'
Silence fell across the knoll, disturbed only by a few mutters of agreement. When Krow made to confront Ravan, Carnelian held up a hand to stay him. 'Let him speak.'
Ravan looked at Carnelian, surprised, then lifted his gaze over the camp.
The Ochre who have lived with them will tell you the Standing Dead are nothing more than men. Yes, they have power, but it is not divine. We four tribes have now fought together. Why don't we go on? Which other tribe could stand against our joined might? Imagine what could flow from this alliance: the salt that would free us from service in the legions; the captured children we could send to the Mountain in place of our own. All this we could do once freed from the Master.'
As voices broke out supporting Ravan, Carnelian saw how much the youth had become Osidian's pupil. He saw also what the consequence of such upheaval would be. The Wise would not tolerate such a challenge to their systems. But how could he explain to the Plainsmen the complex realities that lay behind the face the Commonwealth presented to its subjects? Still, this had to be stopped before it went too far. He rose.
'Ravan is right, you could cut the Ladder and return to your peoples, but consider this: the Manila came up before and massacred two tribes; the next time they come up do you want them led by the Master?'
Ravan saw Carnelian's words had spread dread. 'What of it? Did the Darkcloud not defeat them?'
Several answered him.
'Prepared, we could do so again.' His eyes became possessed by firelight. 'Perhaps we might even become strong enough to defy the Gatherers.'
Fern leapt to his feet and began making appeals to those who had seen the dragons of the legions. 'Do you really believe we could defeat those?'
Ravan thrust his head towards his brother. The Master believes so. He told me that is his plan.'
Carnelian was shocked Osidian had confided so much in the youth. Then he has deceived you, as he has deceived himself. The methods he has used to overturn your lives are the same the Standing Dead use to rule the world. A legion is altogether another matter. The dragons cannot be defeated by riders however numerous. As for defeating the Manila, up until now, when they have come up onto the Earthsky, they have wandered blind in a land they did not know. Even so, they destroyed two tribes. As for the Darkcloud's victory, I led the attack. We only won because we surprised them.' He located the Darkcloud around their fires. 'How many would have fallen in a pitched battle?'
Some of them shook their heads, but none spoke up.
'If the Master led the Marula, they would move with more certainty than even you in your own land. If you doubt this, ask Ravan and any of the rest of us whom he guided through the swamp and across the Earthsky when no Plainsman knew the way.'
Krow and Fern were nodding, as were many around other fires. Carnelian fixed Ravan with a glare.
'Do you really believe you could defeat the Master in battle? Would you have beaten the Bluedancing? You were there, Ravan, scared in the darkness with the rest of us before the Master came. Could you' – he looked out over the camp – 'or any of you have killed a ravener single-handed with a spear?'
His question echoed off the baobabs. Fern sat, then reached up and pulled his brother down. The youth scowled at the fire. Carnelian sank too and, ignoring Krow's stare, resumed the chewing of his djada. He was relieved when he heard chatter resume around the hearths.
At a sign from Carnelian, Fern and he slipped away from the drowsy camp to sit on the slope of the knoll from which they could keep a watch on the sartlar ladder.
'We got away with it this time,' said Fern.
Carnelian nodded. The next time might not be so easy.' He had hated threatening them with Osidian. It made him feel as if he was collaborating with him. He turned to his friend.
'Hasn't this made you feel it might well be safer if we were to bring Ravan into our circle?'
Fern shook his head vigorously. 'He's too erratic; too emotional. Besides, do you really believe he would support us in bringing back the old ways?'
'I suppose not. He will try this again.'
Fern hung his head, nodding. 'The problem is that the men are idle. I can't blame them for wanting to be back with their hearths.'
Light swelled in Carnelian's mind as he saw the valley in the mountains. He crushed the vision and peered into the night. 'And then there's the danger from the sartlar.'
'We could cut the ladder to their caves.'
Carnelian shook his head. 'I won't starve them.'
'We could keep watch every night.'
'We didn't even manage to stay awake.'
They hung their heads. Something occurred to Carnelian. He looked up. 'Perhaps we could knot our two problems into a solution. Let's fortify the camp.'
Fern considered this. 'What reason would we give them?'
They fear the Marula, don't they?'
Fern nodded. 'And we Plainsmen feel exposed without our ditches. It might work.'
Carnelian slapped Fern on the back. 'We'll make it work.'
Fern's grin appeared in the starlight. 'Now, let's see if this time we can manage to stay awake.'
Grumbling, the Plainsmen set to fortifying their camp on the knoll. Carnelian joined them digging the dry earth in the cool of the morning. Fern and he had mapped where the ditch would run around the crown from baobab to baobab. They were using the trees as towers in the inner rampart. The impenetrable meshes of their roots forced them to sweep the ditch out in front of each monster.
For days they laboured, spending the hottest part of each in the shade. Weariness staunched the flow of complaints until they dried up altogether. The homely familiarity of the work made the men happier: the developing fortifications helped them feel secure. At night, exhausted, everyone slumped groaning around their fires and their talk was of their women, their little ones. Fern congratulated Carnelian on their stratagem with a smile.
'We've drunk the tree caches dry,' announced Fern.
Carnelian shrugged. 'We'll just have to make up a drag-cradle to take skins to the river.'
'You know how terrified the men are of going anywhere near the impaled man.'
A fearful superstition had grown up among the Plainsmen concerning the idol, the path it guarded and the island. Especially the island. Carnelian had seen how they refused even to look at it, as if whatever lived there might enter into a man through his eyes.
'Well, you and I will have to go.'
Carnelian saw Fern's fear. 'You too? I'll just have to go alone.'
Fern scowled. 'I never said I wouldn't go.'
They hitched a drag-cradle to the crossbeam of Carnelian's aquar, then loaded it with waterskins. Carnelian could not help laughing at the pile. 'Do we have to get all the water we'll ever need in one go?'
When enough waterskins had been removed, Carnelian moved up to the aquar's head and Fern moved round to the other side. Carnelian regarded the men. 'Anyone else want to come with us?'
Krow stood forward. 'I will.'
Carnelian nodded his approval and then the three of them led the aquar down the knoll towards the idol and the riverpath. When they reached level ground, Krow gazed up at the sky.
The time is drawing near when we must return if we are to give the Tribe protection.'
Carnelian saw the sky was grey with heat. Turning he surveyed the escarpment, studded with baobabs all the way up to the plain of the Earthsky. He turned back.
'Have faith. The Master will not forget the need of the Tribe. He'll return in time.'
Krow grimaced. Though I believe it, there are an increasing number who don't.'
Fern and Carnelian looked at each other, then thanked Krow for the warning.
The aquar shied away from the impaled man, but keeping a wary eye on the idol they managed to coax her onto the riverpath. Some distance along it, they found a track leading down to the river. Carnelian elected to fill the skins, passing them back to Fern, who passed them to Krow, who stowed them on the drag-cradle. As he worked, Carnelian was aware of the Isle of Flies brooding across the river. When he had filled the last skin, he stood for a moment gazing at the island, wondering if what had befallen the Oracles there was what gave it an aura of menace. Then he turned his back on it and climbed to join the others. He nestled the skin among the rest on the drag-cradle and they returned to the knoll.
During one of their water-fetching expeditions, while filling a skin from the river, Carnelian was letting his eyes rove over the dark forbidding mass of the Isle of Flies.
'You're always looking at it,' Fern complained.
'Aren't you curious about it at all?'
Fern shrugged and Carnelian saw his friend's reluctance even to glimpse the black island.
'Shall we go there and see for ourselves what horror it hides?'
Fern looked at him aghast.
Carnelian lifted the skin from the water and sealed it. 'I don't believe in Morunasa's god. I think that banyan conceals a shrine, a wooden temple, but there's only one way to find out. We need only go close enough to peer through its outer trunks.'
Fern's pained expression irritated Carnelian.
‘I’ll go alone.' He leaned the waterskin against a boulder and clambered along the shore looking for a crossing. He turned when he heard the scrabbling of Fern following him. They regarded each other.
Fern frowned. 'I'm coming with you just to make sure you don't feel tempted to go further in than the edge.'
Carnelian was glad of Fern's company. Together they resumed the search for the route Morunasa and Osidian had taken across. Where the water swirled, the stream seemed spun from pure light; where it pooled, its mirrors cast the sun directly into their eyes.
When Carnelian was sure they had found the way, he glanced round. 'I'm glad you're coming with me, Fern.'
Squinting at the island a darkness of doubt descended, but before it could claim him, Carnelian clambered down the bank. He slipped into a slide that tore gritty dust into clouds. Half-choking, half-laughing, he managed to regain his balance only to be knocked forward as Fern careered into him. Carnelian spun, grabbed hold of him, and together they tumbled down the slope and crashed splashing into a pool.
Carnelian stood up, laughing as he pointed at Fern soaked, caked in dust. Fern scooped some water at him. Soon they were splashing around like boys, delighting in the cool flying diamond spray.
Dripping, they set off across the rocks. Through the dazzle, it took concentration. The footing became treacherous. Sometimes a route would end at a deep rush of water which they dared not ford for fear it should sweep them over the falls. They pushed on.
Closer, the banyan trunks rose scabrous black, taller than it had seemed possible from the other shore. Seeing its hall of columns, Carnelian recalled what Osidian had said.
'Labyrinth,' he said in Quya. 'What?' Fern demanded.
Carnelian turned and saw Fern's barbarian look of incomprehension. His hands rose to mask his face from the dark eyes. Fern's horror shocked Carnelian free of his mood.
'Why are you staring at me like that?' Fern shook his head.
'What?' Carnelian demanded, knowing he was in the wrong.
Fern grew angry. 'You were looking at me the way the Master does.'
The Masterly pride that had woken in him would not allow him to apologize. 'We can go back now, I've seen enough.'
Fern bared his teeth. 'You were the one who wanted to see this accursed place and see it you will.'
He pushed past Carnelian who, cursing, followed him.
As they neared the shore of the island, they began to slip and fall because the banyan commanded their stares. Around its feet, what had appeared to be tangled driftwood was not that at all.
'Bones…' Fern said staring.
Yellowed white, immense spars snagged in a log jam that clung to the shore of the island. The black roots of the banyan snaked among them as if it were feeding on the dead. A vast carcass lay broken among the bones, grey-brown tatters of skin hanging on the skeleton. It seemed to Carnelian even more sinister than the slaughter of the heaveners. He peered upstream.
This river in flood must bring corpses.'
Looking back to the other shore, the aquar and its drag-cradle looked tiny beneath the black cliff of the Backbone. Carnelian longed to return. Fern was peering into the cavernous darkness imprisoned by the trunks.
Carnelian's eyes again became tangled in the banyan. Its breath was sweet decay.
'What are you staring at?' Fern demanded.
'I have…' He stopped, seeing Fern's incomprehension. He realized he had been speaking in Quya again. 'I've seen this place before.'
Fern looked incredulous. 'How could you have?'
Carnelian was unwilling to explain. Could this be the model for the Labyrinth? They were too far from Osrakum. No Masters save he and Osidian could ever have been here.
Fern, terrified, was framed by the banyan rising like night behind him. Neither of them could bear to be there a moment longer. As fast as they could, they made their way back to the safety of the other shore, arriving bloody and bruised from many falls.
Neither spoke as they coaxed the aquar with its fully loaded drag-cradle towards the camp. Carnelian had fallen back to put the bulk of the creature between him and Fern. He was embarrassed. After having all but forced his friend to go to the island, it was he who had most wanted to flee and that after having behaved abominably. Now they were past the impaled man and among the baobabs, it seemed as if it had been someone else who had panicked.
A commotion was echoing from the crown of the knoll. Fern made the aquar stop. Carnelian continued walking and they looked at each other. Fern began running. Carnelian looked around, decided the aquar could look after herself and took off after him. He felt the creature's footfalls through the earth and looking back saw she was loping after them, the drag-cradle rattling after her, shedding waterskins. They slid, and bounced and burst open, splashing water everywhere. Carnelian grimaced, but turned his back on the debacle and raced on.
As he and Fern crossed the ditch into the camp, they saw the backs of Plainsmen who were focusing on something in their midst. Unable to make himself heard above their roar, Carnelian pushed his way through. Some responded violently, but sprang aside when they saw who it was. Silence spread through their ranks. A path opened to the centre of the crowd, where he saw a sartlar at bay, hair risen in a mane.
'Kor?' he said. 'What are you doing to her?' he bellowed, striding round the front row of men, shoving them aside. They drew back, awed by his rage. A growling made him turn. The animal sound was coming from the sartlar woman.
'Kor…' he said, gently, approaching her. The woman snarled at him and he pulled his hands up and stepped back to give her space.
'Have they hurt you?' he said, his voice slow, soothing.
Kor glared at him. Keeping a wary eye on her, he looked around. 'What's this about?'
'Salt,' one man cried, and many others took the word up in a chorus.
At first Carnelian did not understand, but then he noticed the snowy grains frosting the ground. Kor had more in her hands, more crumbled down her rags.
'She came with a great slab of it,' said Krow. 'She wouldn't give it to us, nor tell us where it came from.'
Avarice gleamed in every eye. Seeing Kor still looking hunted, Carnelian crouched beside her.
'It's all right now, little mother,' he said.
He continued talking until Kor relaxed, straightening up as much as she could.
They tore it from me, Master,' she said and indicated the salt strewn earth with her gnarled fists.
'It doesn't matter, Kor.'
He was trying to get close enough to lead her off before she said anything else but she backed away from him.
'I only came to ask the Master where he wants us to put the slabs we've cut.' Carnelian groaned.
Ravan broke through into the circle. There's more…?' he cried, staring at the sartlar.
'Caves of it,' said Fern. He stamped the ground. 'Here beneath our feet.'
The Plainsmen erupted. Carnelian glared at Fern, who grimaced. 'We have kept this from them too long.'
Carnelian gave a weary nod of acceptance.
Ravan's eyes burned with excitement as he looked out over the men. 'With so much wealth we could recruit a vast host' He raised his arms. 'We would become invincible.'
He turned on Carnelian.*Even against the Master and his Manila.'
'Do you imagine the Standing Dead would not notice the drying up of their recruits? How long do you think it would be before they came to punish your impudence?'
Ravan's lip curled up from his teeth. 'More threats, Master?' He stabbed a finger at Carnelian and looked round at the men. 'Does this one seem so terrifying that we must quake at the very mention of their retribution?' He circled Carnelian. 'Are these Standing Dead really so much mightier than us that we should obey them as if they were gods? What is the basis of their power except terror? I say that should we choose to be men and defy them, we will find their power is nothing more substantial than a mirage.'
Fern closed on his brother. The Master has possessed you as he has us all.' He surveyed the crowd. 'We have become murderers and thieves. He has made us forget our ancient ways, our humility, our honour and piety. He has made us give insult to the Mother.'
He looked at Ravan, shaking his head sadly. 'As for you, my brother, I do not hear wisdom but rather the bitterness of a lover spurned.'
Ravan clenched his fists and bared his teeth. 'You accuse me of that, you who are to him' – he pointed at Carnelian – 'in everything his wife.'
Fern swung and struck his brother a blow which made him reel but then return screaming. 'Do you want to hit me again? Come on, do you?'
Fern looked horrified. He seemed to become suddenly aware they had an audience. He threw himself bodily at the crowd, who made way for him.
Carnelian almost ran after him, but Ravan was staring, his face already bruising.
'Master, where shall we store the salt?' Kor asked.
Carnelian swung round and she cowered. 'Where do you normally put it?'
The sartlar angled her head towards the Isle of Flies.
'Store it in the caves.'
She fell into a prostration. As he looked at the white-flecked ground around her, he wondered if the creature could really have so little idea of how precious salt was that she innocently brought such a slab into the Plainsman camp.
He became aware of the men around him staring. 'Haven't you seen enough?' he bellowed. They ducked their heads and began dispersing. Carnelian asked Krow to look after Ravan and then he went to find Fern.
Carnelian found his friend standing at the chasm edge gazing across at the Isle of Flies. They stood side by side in silence.
'I couldn't bear to hear the Master's voice coming out of him,' said Fern at last. 'I know,' said Carnelian. 'It really is as if he is possessed.' 'In many ways he is.'
Water fell around the dark face of the Isle of Flies like hair. Carnelian felt the question forming on his lips as his heart pounded.
'Is that why you hit him?'
Sensing Fern turning towards him, Carnelian looked round and their eyes met with an intensity that snatched away his breath. Fern's irises were all black.
'He insulted us both.'
Carnelian controlled anger. 'Do men among the tribes never love each other?'
Fern looked pained. 'Boys do.' 'And when boys become men?'
'Once we are married, such feelings are discouraged. A man should love his wife and his children above all others.'
Carnelian saw the desire burning in Fern, but knew now he must not let it ignite his own. 'Perhaps Ravan was acting from fear. We must assure him we will not tell the Master of the… arguments we've had with him.'
Fern was looking at him very seriously. Carnelian made light of his feelings and laughed. He slapped Fern on the back.
'Come on, let's go and see if any of the water survived our return.'
Days later, shouting brought everyone in the camp running down armed towards the Ladder. As he ran to it with the others, Carnelian saw smoke wavering up from the chasm. His heart raced as he recognized Osidian's signal. He pushed his way through the Plainsmen to peer over the edge. Far below, from where the smoke was rising, a dark mass of men could be seen gathered at the base of the Ladder and others were already climbing it.
'Manila,' said Fern who was beside Carnelian.
They glanced at each other. Even at that distance, it was hard to believe these were all Oracles.
The Master's not there,' said Ravan.
'He must be,' said Carnelian. 'He told me he would send up smoke to signal his return.' 'I can't see him.'
'He's there somewhere,' said Krow. 'I'm certain of it.' The anxious way he was searching suggested otherwise.
Ravan pulled back from the edge. 'We must cut the Ladder.'
Fern rounded on him.
Ravan ignored his brother's glare. 'Am I the only one who can see those are Manila warriors?'
Fern turned frowning to Carnelian. 'He's right.'
They both eyed the Plainsmen and saw how uneasy they were.
Carnelian knew it was true. If Osidian was there then it seemed he did not trust them and was sending up these warriors in advance of him. Warriors? There had been no talk of warriors.
Ravan had moved towards the anchor trees. 'Are we all just going to wait here to be slaughtered?'
As most of the Darkcloud moved to Ravan's side, Carnelian could see they meant to support the youth.
'We can't ignore the threat,' said Fern.
Carnelian nodded. 'Ravan is right, we must take precautions. You all have your spears. Let's form a hornwall.'
Ravan gaped, confused, as Carnelian formed the Plainsmen into a crescent surrounding the head of the Ladder. He interspersed their line with Ochre who had experience of the formation from the battle against the Bluedancing. Then they waited, hearing the approach of the Manila in the vibrations of the Ladder cables.