Pleasure can stir a voice to song. At the extremes, pain will always exceed pleasure in intensity. How much more powerful, then, is the impetus pain can give a voice? Do the Wise not teach that the sounds of agony are the vocal mode the Dark God most prefers? If this is so, then it follows that the most sublime form such a performance might attain is that in which the vocalist is skilfully excruciated and held shimmering at the very brink of death.
At the centre of the hornwall, Carnelian watched the Marula spill out from the chasm. Gleaming black, massive limbs banded with wood, bodies hidden beneath beaded corselets that rose up behind their heads like the backs of chairs. They bared their teeth and hissed as they saw the hedge of spears awaiting them.
Carnelian felt the hornwall losing cohesion and steadied it with a bellow. More and more of the Marula were coming up, until he began to fear that should he not act now, his men would be overwhelmed.
Then he saw a taller figure at their rear.
A murmur rose from the hornwall. The Master.'
Carnelian glanced round at Fern. They shared the same deadly intent. Carnelian faced the Marula and Osidian, ready to give the order to push them all back into the chasm.
Osidian's Quya carried clear across the tumult. There is something strange in the way you look at me, Carnelian.'
A hush settled as everyone listened to the beautiful voice.
The reading of faces is an art practised in the House of the Masks. You, my dear, unlike many of the Great, have not acquired the skill to conceal your thoughts.'
Carnelian tried to blank his face, almost unmanned by its betrayal. More and more Marula were swelling the wall before Osidian. Ashen Oracles were gathering round him.
'You have perhaps become more Chosen than I expected, Carnelian.'
'Carnie?' cried Fern, shocking Carnelian free of Osidian's mesmerizing voice.
Glancing at him, Carnelian saw Fern's urgency to settle the matter. Before he could think, Osidian spoke again.
These Marula have been told that should any harm befall me… or the Ladder, then their kin shall all be given to the Oracles for sacrifice. This, not to mention that they have their backs to the chasm, should ensure they put up a vigorous fight.'
Carnelian went cold. Not only had Osidian become aware of his intention to kill him but, worse, he now saw the enormity of his mistake: Osidian had returned with an army of his own.
'Excellent, you have understood the new balance of. power.'
Carnelian sensed the men round him wavering. The Plainsmen are still more numerous than your Manila.'
Osidian inclined his head. 'Mounted, they might prevail. With me to lead them, however, I believe my Marula would have a decisive advantage.'
Carnelian felt sick. The time for rebellion had passed.
Perhaps if he had charged when Osidian had first appeared
'Come now, Carnelian, shall we two really do battle and cause such unnecessary bloodshed?' Carnelian was crushed.
'Have your men put up their spears and retire.'
A desperate hope made Carnelian look towards their fortified camp. His glance took Osidian's gaze to the knoll.
'I would starve you out and then would take the most terrible reprisals.'
Carnelian hoped at least to save his men. This was all my doing.'
'Really?' The humour in Osidian's voice was chilling. 'You need have no fear for them.' He glanced at Fern. 'Not one of them will suffer as long as they serve me.'
Carnelian knew it was finished. He ordered the Plainsmen to stand down. As here and there along the wall spears fell, Fern spoke out, anguished.
'What's going on, Carnie?'
Fearing for him, Carnelian snarled: 'Retire with the rest.'
Scowling, Fern obeyed him and, as he did so, the horn-wall dissolved.
With a gesture, Osidian sent the Manila swarming forward to take control of the anchor trees and the Ladder ropes. As they unblocked the top of the Ladder, a tide of tiny, honey-brown men was released, struggling under baskets densely packed with fernroot. Distracted by these pygmies, Carnelian started retreating but stopped when he saw Osidian beckoning. Carnelian hesitated, seeing Morunasa and other Oracles around Osidian like pale crows.
'What, my love, do you fear I will harm you?' Carnelian marched towards him his spear still in his hand, a desire beating in his chest to plunge it into Osidian.
'Carnelian, cast aside your weapon.' Osidian sounded alarmed. 'The Marula are not fully under my control. They might kill you.'
Carnelian came to a halt, confused that after all that had happened, Osidian might still care for him.
Osidian spoke again. 'Even were you to slay me, the Marula would destroy your Plainsmen.'
Carnelian saw how merciless were the yellow eyes of the Marula. As he threw away the spear, their ranks responded by opening before him. He advanced into their midst. As he closed on Osidian, it felt strange to look into green eyes again.
'Since we are being open with each other,' Osidian said, 'did you enter the caves that lie beneath our feet?'
Carnelian nodded.
'I thought you might. Does anyone else know what they contain?'
Carnelian considered lying but knew it would soon be found out. 'Everyone.'
Osidian's eyes widened. 'It amazes me you could be so stupid.'
Carnelian almost blamed Kor, but he felt this unworthy and decided he could bear Osidian's contempt.
Osidian moved forward. 'Well, it seems then there is no reason why the Plainsmen should not help load the pygmies with salt.'
'What for?'
Osidian took in the Marula with an elegant sweep of his hand. 'I had to buy them with something.'
Carnelian feared the Plainsmen would resist such work. 'Can you not use the Marula?'
They are warriors.'
'So are the Plainsmen,' said Carnelian. 'Nevertheless, it is my will that they should do it.' Carnelian saw a harshness in Osidian's eyes and knew that not only did he want to make it clear to the Plainsmen that he was now their master, but he also wanted to make Carnelian understand this was a punishment they would suffer on his behalf.
Carnelian looked for the Plainsmen and saw they had retreated to the knoll. As he pushed into the flow of pygmies, they moved from his path as if his touch were poison. He broke into open ground. Approaching the Plainsmen, he saw how bewildered they looked and lost the courage to reveal his errand. 'Carnie?' said Fern.
Carnelian could see how desperate his friend was to talk to him. He tried to communicate that this was impossible with a shake of his head. Aware they were all looking at him, Carnelian had to tell them.
'You are to go down to the saltcaves.'
Their looks of unease exasperated him. 'We have to give the quarried salt to the Manila.'
They stared at him. Fern opened his mouth to protest but then he looked to where, looming above the pygmy tide, the Master was in conversation with Morunasa, and his mouth closed. Carnelian met Fern's despondent gaze. Both knew they had failed. Many of the Plainsmen cast looks of desire up at their fortress on the hill, then lowered their heads to hide the anger and betrayal in their eyes. Led by Ravan, they leaned their spears against a baobab and made their way towards the sartlar ladder. Carnelian was tortured by the thought that the youth had been right all along. It was better not to accompany them. To share such menial work would only serve to anger Osidian and it would be the Plainsmen who would suffer retribution.
Pygmies were moving past him, returning empty-handed from where they were piling their baskets of fernroot at the foot of the knoll. An odour was rising from their bodies. It was the same aura of fear which slaves gave off in the presence of a Master, and which had to be masked with perfume. At first Carnelian thought it was Osidian the pygmies feared, but their glances were for the Oracles.
When Morunasa and the rest approached the crowd of little men, they crumpled into a juddering, urinating mass from which the ash-smeared arms of the Oracles plucked and pulled out one here, one there. Those selected tottered off to where they stood together in trembling misery. When the Oracles had finished, those that were left fled towards the Ladder, stumbling over each other in their desperation to escape.
The Oracles closed in on those they had chosen and herded them whimpering off to the idol and the impaled man. Carnelian was still watching as the first Plainsmen began coming up from the caves. The tiny men were being driven across the stepping stones and meandering currents, to be swallowed up by the Isle of Flies.
Sick at heart, Carnelian went to watch the loading of the salt. The Plainsmen were helping the sartlar hoist slabs up and over the lip of the chasm. They were carefully wrapped in oily cloth then bound to the backs of the pygmies. Once burdened, each began his descent back into the chasm. Manila stood by, observing everything with an arrogant gaze. When the last slab had been strapped to a pygmy, they casually prodded him down the Ladder with their spears and followed.
The Plainsmen looked miserable, even Krow. Seeing Kor among the sartlar, Carnelian wished he could decide what to do with her. A Maruli appeared beside them. The black giant waited until he had their eyes and then stabbed his spear towards the grotesque idol and made some sounds that might have been speech. He strode away then stopped, turning to beckon them, until, suUenly, Carnelian and the Plainsmen began to follow him.
Osidian was waiting for them beneath the impaled man. On his left stood Morunasa with those Oracles who had not crossed to the island. Manila warriors formed a barbaric backdrop with their bead corselets and their ebony limbs. Shuffling, uncertain, the Plainsmen stood before the Master. Carnelian saw with what cruel eyes he was surveying them. His gaze fell on Carnelian.
'Come, my Lord,' he said, indicating a place at his right hand.
Carnelian felt he was betraying the Plainsmen, but dared not refuse. Under their eyes, he walked to where Osidian had pointed. It made him uncomfortable to be joining Osidian in standing judgement on them.
Osidian turned to him. 'Is there any matter that you might wish to convey to me?' he asked in Quya, as if the two of them were alone.
Carnelian brought his mind into focus. 'Matter…?' He saw Fern's anxious face among the Plainsmen and found it hard not to glance at Ravan. He probed Osidian's eyes, wondering what he could possibly know or guess, and was terrified his face might betray him again.
At that moment a shriek tore the intolerably humid afternoon. An unhuman sound that set Carnelian's teeth to chattering. He turned just enough to catch a view of the Isle of Flies, whose brooding darkness seemed to be pulsing. He registered the terror of the Manila.
'My Lord?'
The elegant Quya wrenched Carnelian's eyes back. 'Did you not hear my -?'
Osidian was cut dead by another cry shrilling across the river. Carnelian felt something die in him.
They're murdering…' he said, lapsing into Vulgate.
'An offering of blood to the Darkness-under-the-Trees,' said Morunasa.
Carnelian was caught in the Maruli's amber eyes.
'Our Lord's hunger must be sated.'
'I grow impatient, Carnelian, for your answer.'
Carnelian regarded Osidian and Morunasa as if he were seeing them for the first time. The difference in their eyes made them brothers. Under no circumstances would he hand over any Plainsman or sartlar to their mercy.
'I have nothing to say to you.'
Carnelian had to withstand Osidian's emerald gaze for several moments before he turned it on the Plainsmen.
'Stand forward those among you who understand Vulgate.'
Fern, Ravan, Krow and others made it to the front. Many behind them were glancing towards the island in horror. Carnelian shared the agony of waiting for the next scream.
'No doubt you all wish to return to your tribes in the mountains.'
When all the interpreters save Fern nodded, Carnelian feared for him.
'You don't want to go, Fern?'
When his friend did not flinch, Carnelian was proud of him, but fearful.
'No, Master,' Fern answered.
'Have you then become so enamoured of this place?' Another animal cry bruised the air. Fern flinched with the other Plainsmen, then shook his head, slowly.
'Perhaps then, it's an attachment to myself that keeps you here? Or perhaps to another?' said Osidian and, as he spoke, he turned his head a little towards Carnelian, who pretended not to understand the implication, for Fern's sake.
'Well, savage?'
Carnelian could feel that his friend was struggling not to look at him.
'Since you will not speak, you shall leave with the others.'
As Fern let his gaze fall, Carnelian breathed his relief that it was not worse.
Krow took a step forward, anxious. 'Master, may I stay with you?'
As Osidian regarded him, the youth's face grew shiny with sweat. He ducked his thanks when the Master gave a nod.
Osidian surveyed the Plainsmen. 'You may return to the mountains to escort your tribes across the plain. Once they are safely in their koppies, I expect you back here. You understand me?'
The would-be interpreters all nodded.
Osidian made a loose gesture taking in the Plainsmen crowd. 'Make sure everyone understands. Any man who does not return here shall have me for an enemy.' He flung out a gesture of dismissal and was turning his back on them when a voice spoke out.
'Shall we return empty-handed to our people?' It was Ravan who had taken a pace forward.
Osidian turned back and regarded the youth, his head at an angle. They examined each other. Carnelian was shocked to see that, even now, Ravan was hungry for Osidian to show him some token of love.
'What did you have in mind?' Osidian asked, as if Ravan were a stranger.
Carnelian saw tears of cold anger in the youth's eyes and could not believe Osidian did not notice them.
'Salt,' said Ravan, as if he were hurling an insult.
Osidian rolled his hand in the air even as he turned away. Take as much as you want.'
That easy concession served only to deepen Ravan's misery. As the Plainsmen began to creep away, the youth lingered, glaring at Osidian's back as if the pressure of his gaze might make him turn back to see him. Fearing for the youth's life, Carnelian was on the verge of himself going to force him to leave when Fern reached out and, gently, turned his brother. Carnelian's eyes meshed with Fern's for a moment before he began guiding Ravan away, leaving Carnelian alone with Osidian and the Marula.
Accompanied by Marula warriors, Carnelian followed Osidian, Morunasa and the other Oracles along the river-path. Soon a procession of them was winding its way across the rocks.
Osidian turned. 'Will you come to the Isle of Flies with me, Carnelian?'
'Why?' Carnelian asked in horror.
To witness certain rituals.'
At that moment another shriek of agony came from the island. Carnelian controlled an instinct to retch. Osidian seemed amused, then began to turn away.
'What's to happen here?' Carnelian blurted out.
Osidian turned back, frowning slightly. Carnelian bore his examination until Morunasa came up.
'Master?' he said, indicating the way across the rocks.
'I shall follow on in a while,' Osidian said without taking his eyes off Carnelian.
Irritation distorted Morunasa's face. 'How will the Master find his way across?'
'Easily.'
Morunasa waited for more, and then he gave instructions to some of the warriors in their strange language before striding off after his fellows.
Osidian's gaze intensified. 'How did you hope to profit from my assassination?'
'By trying to rebuild what you have destroyed.'
'You would have set yourself up in my place?'
'I do not have your lust for power.'
Osidian inclined his head. 'I know who it was who conspired with you against me.'
Carnelian tried to turn his face to ice.
Osidian lifted a hand. 'Nothing will happen to them unless they move against me.' His eyes bored into Carnelian. 'Be sure you understand that should they do so, I will be merciless.'
Relief at this reprieve made Carnelian reckless. 'Put me to death, then, for I have betrayed you more than once already.'
Osidian's laughter drove Carnelian into angry confusion. 'If I had killed all those who betrayed me, there would have been few of the House of the Masks still living. This is a princely game we play, Carnelian, which we shall laugh about once we return to Osrakum.'
The day when I laugh at the memory of so much suffering will never come,' said Carnelian, but this only served to make Osidian laugh again, so that Carnelian was left feeling foolish.
Osidian grew suddenly serious. 'I wish these plots against me to end. It is for this reason, my Lord, I shall deign to explain myself to you now.'
He crouched and drew something in the dust.
Carnelian stared at him, desiring to kill him there and then. The threat to his Plainsmen restrained him. Perhaps when they were safely away.
Osidian looked up. 'Shall I continue?'
Carnelian crouched, making an effort to be interested in the diagram in the dust. 'A serpent?'
'In a way; it is a serpent which I am holding by the tail.'
Carnelian looked at the loops writhing through the dust. Osidian pointed at it. This is their Lower Reach: a sluggish river meandering through a land of mud, hemmed in by jungle; choking, decaying…' Osidian looked into Carnelian's eyes. They fear its glooms above all else.' With his chin he indicated the Isle of Flies. They believe they have trapped their god in there. He is the Darkness-under-the-Trees which they appease by feeding the blood and souls of men.'
Carnelian knew enough to fear the malignant presence there.
They push the jungle back a little way from the river and, there, cultivate fields which are the source of abundant sustenance.'
They are farmers then?' Carnelian asked.
'Warriors.' And in response to Carnelian's look of incomprehension, They lure the pygmies out of the jungle, they bribe them, or buy them as slaves from their own kind.'
'With salt,' Carnelian said, understanding. Osidian nodded. 'With salt.'
'Do they get this from the sea?' Carnelian asked, already guessing the answer.
They know almost nothing of the sea.' Then it all comes from here.' Osidian gave a nod.
'But they cannot have had any salt for two years.' 'More than three.'
Carnelian had a sickening realization. Then they must be in chaos.'
Osidian looked into space and his eyes narrowed. 'Plague, war and famine consume them. The pygmies have melted back into the jungle. The fields lie untilled.'
Carnelian half-covered his face with a hand. They couldn't send another expedition?'
Osidian nodded.
'Which is why Morunasa took the risk of bringing us here.'
'And slew his masters who opposed him.' 'So if I had not repaired the Ladder -' Osidian smiled. 'I would most likely have died down there.'
The enormity of his mistake overwhelmed Carnelian.
'My life hung on your curiosity. I judged that seeing the saltcaves, you would imagine they were the whole purpose of my coming here.'
Carnelian looked round at the Marula. These were what you sought.'
'And many more like them. I need them to enforce my rule.' He opened a hand. 'Of course, given time, I could have welded the Plainsmen into the weapon I need, but I fear the Wise will not be so obliging.'
Carnelian saw in his mind the war Osidian was planning to bring down into the Earthsky. He shook his head free of it and looked around.
'So, whoever holds this Upper Reach is master of all the Marula.'
'Perhaps even their god.'
Carnelian was chilled by Osidian's smile. 'But by letting them come up the Ladder… Once the Plainsmen are gone…?'
Osidian frowned. There is more you must learn before you can have full understanding. The Marula are not one people undivided.' He rolled his hand in the air. 'Morunasa says there are nine tribes, each ruled by a prince. These princes have for generations been vassals to the Oracles, who have ruled all the river from here with salt and the terror of their god. With Morunasa's aid, I have made an alliance with one of these princes. The warriors we brought with us and more that he shall send me I have bought from him with salt.'
'But surely, now that he allies himself with you he will be destroyed by the others?'
'So he himself said,' Osidian smiled. 'But consider the tesserae a moment and see if you do not see another mosaic emerging.'
Carnelian sunk his head and thought about it, but could see nothing but the fragments. 'I do not comprehend what is to stop the others attacking him.'
Osidian smiled indulgently. They will not do so because I have commanded them to refrain.'
Carnelian stared at him. 'Why should they obey…' The mosaic formed in his mind. 'Of course.' He looked at Osidian appalled, but with grudging admiration. 'You threaten to destroy the Ladder.'
Osidian rewarded him with a long slow nod.
'But if his warriors are here, what is to stop this prince usurping the position of power you now occupy?'
There are many reasons. For one, if he did so, his peers would not believe he had the power to cut the Ladder.'
'Because he would be destroying himself?'
That too, but to effect that, he would have to use his own people. Even if he had the desire to destroy his own world, do you think it likely his subjects would help him?'
Carnelian looked off to the dark island, then brought his gaze back to Osidian. 'And what he gets from you is salt?'
'My position here ensures he can safely defy the power of the other princes. With the salt I shall send down to him, he will become saviour and overlord of the Lower Reach.'
'But surely then he would be free to turn on you.' Osidian smiled again. 'I did say I had a serpent by the tail.'
Carnelian saw how it might all work. This is a desperate gamble.'
Osidian shrugged. 'I believe I can maintain the delicate balance of the forces.' 'And the Oracles?'
Brooding claimed Osidian. That is a darker matter. In some ways, they are very much like the Wise. For the moment, I have appeased them by giving them back their sacred grove, but they could yet become a foe more dangerous than the princes of the Lower Reach. It is always those who are accustomed to rule that one must fear the most.'
'And what of Morunasa?'
That one has ambitions to return power to the Oracles and that only I can give him, which is why, you see, you must take care I should not die.'
Carnelian saw now why Osidian had bothered to explain it all to him.
Osidian raised an eyebrow. 'Do you imagine the Oracles could allow the knowledge of this place to become widespread across the Earthsky? If the Plainsmen did not take it from them, the Commonwealth would. They would destroy the whole Earthsky rather than let that happen.'
Carnelian lost hope, seeing how tightly woven was Osidian's net. 'And the Ochre?'
'As long as they remain obedient, they shall be safe.'
'Let me return to the Koppie to make sure.'
Osidian laughed. 'Oh no, Carnelian. You will stay here and rule in my place.'
'While you conquer the tribes?'
Osidian smiled. 'You see how we are in perfect understanding.'
'Will you sleep among the Plainsmen tonight?'
Osidian shook his head. 'Among my Manila.'
He rose and Carnelian followed him. Carnelian watched him walk away, the Marula warriors in his wake. As he began crossing the river, they remained behind. Carnelian watched him for a while and then, weary and demoralized, he turned his face towards the knoll and the Plainsmen.
Carnelian found Fern in the camp and drew him aside to talk to him.
The Master knows we intended to kill him.'
Fern paled.
'You're safe unless you move against him.' 'Ravan too?' asked Fern.
The Master seemed unaware of him, but we should keep them apart.'
Carnelian saw Fern was looking down to where the Manila had made a camp around the anchor baobabs. He turned to look at Carnelian. 'Are more of them coming up?'
Carnelian gave a nod.
'The Master intends to use them against the tribes, doesn't he?'
They are more dependent on him than are the Plainsmen.'
Fern's gaze fell once more upon the Manila camp. 'We must attack them while we still can.'
Carnelian took hold of Fern's shoulder and pulled him round. 'Shall we do it now when they will see us coming or shall we wait until darkness when the Master will be with them and hope he does us the favour of not setting a watch?'
Fern backed away from Carnelian, upset. 'Why can't we surprise them at night as you did at the koppie of the Darkcloud?' And when Carnelian gave no response, 'Would you have us help him lead us all into ruin?'
Carnelian frowned. The best we can do now is pray that a chink opens in his armour that will allow us to strike.'
'And what if that never happens?'
Carnelian had no answer to that.
'My brother was right,' said Fern, bitterly. 'We should have destroyed the Ladder and taken our chances in the Earthsky when the Master came at us with Manila.'
Carnelian did not want to reveal how right Ravan had been. If Fern knew what chaos the Lower Reach was in, it might encourage him to go through with the ruinous attack on the Marula. The failure would be bad enough; far worse would be Osidian's reprisals.
Fern looked at Carnelian with pleading eyes. 'We must do something, Carnie.'
'We can stay alive. As long as we live, there is hope.'
Fern became suddenly weary. 'At least tomorrow we'll be leaving this accursed place.'
Something about Carnelian's silence made Fern regard him with narrowed eyes. 'You're staying behind.'
Carnelian had to nod. 'He wants me here.'
Fern's eyes grew fierce. Then I'll stay with you.'
'No. You must go. Together we are a danger to each other: apart we will still have a chance.'
The screaming from the Isle of Flies made it impossible to sleep. Intermittendy, it would come trembling through the blackness. Each stuttering, tortured sound forced Carnelian to imagine what was being done on the island. The silence following was almost worse; a long suspense of waiting for the next scream. Pressing his hands to his ears made no difference. He rose and paced about. Others were suffering too, with moans, turning, sitting up. Someone stirred a fire to blazing life. Carnelian huddled round it with others seeking blind oblivion in the flames. Attempts were made to tell stories, but it was impossible to listen to anything other than the cries. 'Accursed,' groaned Fern.
Ravan turned on Krow. 'Do you still adore your precious Master?'
Krow drew his knees more tightly to his chest.
Ravan turned his rage on Carnelian and Fern. 'If you'd listened to me, none of this would have happened.'
Carnelian felt ashamed. There was a wild look in Fern's eyes he could not bear. He sank his head between his knees as he had done in the funeral urn, pressing them hard against his ears, trying not to hear his inner voice telling him that all this was his doing.
Eyes kept turning from the fire to peer past the utter blackness of the island, yearning for dawn. Ravan was the first to see the trail of light snaking across the river to the shore. Soon everyone was staring, possessed by the fear that the Oracles were coming for them.
They're… they're on the riverpath,' said Ravan.
Men were rising all around him and Carnelian joined them.
'Let's go now,' someone pleaded. 'Let's not wait for morning.'
'We'd lose our way in the darkness,' said Fern.
'Our spears…' said a voice edging on hysteria.
Sparks began appearing at the corner of the baobab forest. As more and more torches came from the river-path, their glow became bright enough to cast monstrous shadows from the trees towards the knoll.
The impaled man,' groaned Ravan.
They watched tall shapes weave in among the torches and then the screaming began again, but this time it was nearby, coming from the heart of the torchlight. That close, the Plainsmen could hear every ragged note. Some began to whimper. Horror gripped Carnelian's mind. The shrieking took on a panting, shrill, animal sound and they saw, lit from below, something twitching being hoisted up. Then one by one the torches snuffed out, leaving the animal noises to carry from the thing they had lifted aloft.
Men around Carnelian were crying. 'Make it stop,' someone prayed. 'Dear Father, make it stop.'
Carnelian snatched a spear and ran down the knoll towards the sounds. As he drew nearer, his legs weakened so that he had to slow to a walk. He felt each shriek like a cut. Coming nearer he fought for the courage to raise his eyes. Against the stars he saw a man impaled, his transfixed body shaking, his head beating against the tip of the idol's tongue erupting from his shoulder.
Quickly, Carnelian blinked his eyes clear, trembled the spear blade over the thin and quivering chest and, praying it should find the man's heart, he thrust. The blade caught and, snarling, he twisted it hard through the ribs. The impaled man let out a hacking sigh and then, silence.
Carnelian fell, adding his vomit into the filth. Blind and deaf, he was barely conscious when the Plainsmen came to carry him back up to their camp.
A black man with pits for eyes having his throat cut. The blade in Aurum's hand slowly slicing round. The Master's white face had the same bored expression it had had when he had burned the ant nest in the Naralan. Carnelian hated those misty blue eyes. A licking at his toes made him look down, then jump back in horror from the spreading blood. He reached out to touch Aurum, pleading that he stop the cutting lest they drown. The eyes that turned to look at him were the old Master's but they were peering from Kor's branded face.
Carnelian wrenched awake. Sweat congealed on his skin. A face swam into his vision. Fern. Carnelian grabbed him into an embrace and would not let him go. On the journey to Osrakum, he had tried to save a Maruli who had looked upon his face only to have the man make an attempt upon his life. Which was when Aurum had slit his throat.
Carnelian released Fern. His friend stared as Carnelian grasped his own throat and felt the scar of the rope. Was the dream a warning that he must not conceal Ravan's mutiny from Osidian?
'It's over now,' whispered Fern.
Carnelian could not understand.
Thank you,' said Fern.
'For what?'
'For ending that poor bastard's suffering and ours.' Carnelian remembered killing the impaled pygmy.
Dawn was creeping from the east, its birth finding silver in the streams that fell around the island. The morning was still too thin to dispel the horror.
'Leave with me,' pleaded Fern.
Carnelian stared at him.
The sky blushed. The Plainsmen were rising, whispering as they got ready to leave.
Fern's face was filled with concern.
Wan-faced, the Plainsmen crept around as if there were people in the camp they were reluctant to wake. Carnelian saw with what bright hope and yearning they glanced up the escarpment towards the Earthsky.
He rose searching for Ravan and found him harnessing his aquar, fumbling with the girths and straps. The youth became aware of Carnelian and returned his gaze.
'What's the matter?' said Fern.
Carnelian broke the link with Ravan to look at his friend. 'Go without me. Take your brother with you.'
Fern frowned, upset, confused. Carnelian reached for his hand and squeezed it. 'Go now.'
A while later the Plainsmen were all mounted and, with a rush, they were coursing away down the knoll and up the escarpment. Fern gave Carnelian one last look and then his aquar ran to join the others who were fading into a great rising of red dust.
Carnelian stood watching until the cloud thinned enough for him to see they had gone. The nightmare lingered like an ache, bringing doubt. He dismissed it. He had made his decision.