The Standing Dead - Stone Dance of the Chameleon 02

by Ricardo Pinto

  DEADLOCK

  The deadlock common to all two player games is rarely found in Three.

  (from The Three Coloured Game' by the Ruling Lord, Kirinya Prase)

  Under Akaisha's cedar, Carnelian was pacing back and forth, every so often looking towards the rootstair for any sign of the Tribe returning. Unable to be among the crowd as a comfort to Poppy, fearing he might witness Fern's punishment, Carnelian had fled in misery. All his life, he had known about the childgatherer. Once, when he had pushed Ebeny until her reticence broke, she had described the miserable day she had been selected for the Mountain. He had had nightmares for a long time afterwards. Now he had seen it for himself, he was soaked through with such heartache and shame that he wanted to creep away and hide. He glanced back up the slope, desperate to see Poppy. An irrational fear possessed him that the childgatherer might have already taken her away. Then he became filled with dread at the thought of seeing her and, for a moment, seriously considered fleeing the Koppie. He allowed his gaze to be burned by the incandescence of the plain. Out there was an unwelcoming world and Osidian; a Master who would have nothing but shrivelling contempt for such feelings.

  The sound of footfalls was coming from the direction of the Crag. He resisted the temptation to hide, though he backed towards the comfort of the mother tree. As the first people appeared upon the stair, Carnelian held on to her bark as if it were a hand. It was not long before they noticed him. Their descent faltered as they stared with red eyes that seemed to have sunk into their faces. Their scrutiny soon forced him to lower his gaze. A woman's voice urged them on. More and more of the Tribe were coming into sight. Carnelian stood where he was, enduring their terrible, silent hatred. He would gladly have set aside his height, his white skin, his burning blood to become one of them. As it was he would not allow himself to deny it was his kind who had just raped them.

  When he sensed someone approaching, he lifted his gaze, holding his arms stiffly by his sides ready to take whatever was said, whatever pain inflicted, even death, but when he saw it was Fern, his knees threatened to buckle. His friend simply stared and Carnelian fought panic. Fern's face was unreadable, though his red eyes showed he had been crying.

  Carnelian searched his friend's body for any sign of mutilation. 'You are unhurt?'

  Fern looked as if he did not know the answer to that. After a while, he said: They did not call for me.'

  Then you are saved,' Carnelian said, clutching at the hope there was in that; some joy on such a joyless day. Instinct urged Carnelian to keep his pain to himself, but he was weak enough to want to share it.

  'I should have disfigured her. That's what I've been thinking.'

  Fern looked at Carnelian as if he were seeing him for the first time. 'What?'

  'I should have disfigured Poppy. The Gatherer wouldn't have chosen an imperfect child for the Standing Dead.'

  Carnelian recoiled from the rage that sprang into Fern's face.

  'You were there? You knew the danger to the Tribe and, still, you were there?'

  Carnelian wanted to back away but the mother tree was a wall against his back.

  'I promised Poppy ...'

  Fern gaped at him. Even to Carnelian's ears, his words sounded absurd.

  Fern grew suddenly tired and his curly head fell against the cedar.

  'Disfigure her. Don't you think we might have thought of that? She'd grow up carrying on her face the proof that another child had been sent to the Mountain in her place.' His voice was unsteady. 'All the hearths who had lost a child would hate her.'

  Fern lifted his head and Carnelian saw he was crying.

  'Perhaps it's the best thing for her. What kind of life would she have had here.' Fern became distraught. 'He's taken my baby.'

  Carnelian stared dumbfounded. At the examination he had been so focused on Poppy he had not even remembered to look for Leaf. He saw his friend's anguish and could think of nothing to say.

  As they approached, hearthmates gazed at Carnelian as if he were a ghost of the children the Tribe had lost. Sil's eyes accused him, her mother's were trying not to. Whin was pulling Poppy by the hand. The little girl was looking at her feet, the fist of her left hand wedged into her armpit. Carnelian forgot everyone else, praying that when she would look up at him it would not be with hatred. Whin brought her up close.

  'Look at Carnie, child. You mustn't blame him.'

  Carnelian gave Whin a smile of gratitude, muttered something of his regret about her own loss, then squatted down and reached out for Poppy's face. He almost pulled away when he felt the skin wet with tears. Gently he lifted the little face, waiting for her eyes to see him. He stopped breathing when he felt her stare, then gave out a sigh of relief when he did not see hatred in her eyes but only pain and fear. He folded her into his arms, put his lips to her neck, lifted her from the ground. He rocked her, humming, feeling her sobbing, her fist a stone against his heart.

  'Carnie.' It was Fern's voice.

  Carnelian turned with Poppy still wrapped in his embrace and looked round. Fern was tearful, looking at him, leaning close to Sil, their baby nesded between them. Carnelian saw the tears in Sil's eyes, everyone's eyes and almost let out a wail. He wanted to make it better, to take away their pain.

  Fern released his daughter's tiny hand from her swaddling, peeled the pad from her palm and let it fall red to the ground.

  'I can't wait until the Gatherer gives the Elders a picture of the tithe. Tell us how long we'll have her.'

  Carnelian feared Sil's eyes, but felt that beyond Fern's need to know, he was trying to make things right between the three of them. Carnelian drew close enough to see. He adjusted Poppy and, gingerly, took the baby's bloody hand and peered at it.

  The green patterns of the date tattoo were smeared red and swollen in the tiny palm but he could still read the number eight and the hated name of Osidian's brother, Molochite.

  He looked up at Fern and Sil, waiting in dreadful suspense. 'Not counting this year, seven more.' They would have her for the longest possible time allowed a marked child.

  When Fern thanked him, Sil held Carnelian's eyes, searching them. She must have found there what she sought, for she reached out and took his hand. 'We have all lost today.'

  Relief brought more tears. He lifted her hand in his and kissed it.

  Carnelian became aware of Poppy's stony fist wedged between them. A part of him did not want to read what was written there. He realized he had not seen Akaisha. He searched for her.

  'She's with the other Elders talking to the child-gatherer,' said Sil.

  'Does that always happen?'

  Sil grew pale as she glanced at Fern and then looked back up the slope the way they had come. Carnelian realized with a jolt his friend was still in danger.

  Poppy shifted against him and when Carnelian looked down it was directly into her eyes. He took his leave of Sil and Fern and carried Poppy to their hollow. He laid her down upon a blanket. They sat looking at each other while she clutched her left fist in her other hand. She released it and opened it for him. He stared at the cloth blushing blood. It was obvious what she wanted. He took her hand in his and carefully peeled off the cloth. He used it to wipe away the blood. He saw the two tattooed spots and his heart stopped.

  She saw the colour leave his face and drew back terrified. 'This year?'

  'No,' he cried, shaking his head.

  The next then?'

  It was unnecessary for him to nod; she saw her fate in his eyes.

  Akaisha's face was gaunt when she appeared beside Carnelian's hollow. He disengaged from Poppy who had been sleeping in his arms and rose to face Akaisha.

  'I don't know what to say, my mother, about your loss.'

  She glanced at Poppy. 'All have suffered loss.'.

  Carnelian was withered by shame. 'Come with me,' she said.

  He followed her. When they reached the deepest shade of the mother tree, she fixed wild eyes on him. 'Where is the Master?'

  'O
n the plain.'

  'But where?'

  He half shook his head. 'Perhaps returned to the earther we were bringing here when we saw the signal.'

  She frowned, looking at the ground, her eyes moving in thought, her hand gently stroking the bark. She looked up.

  The Master was right. The Gatherers are looking for you.'

  Carnelian swallowed hard. They asked about us specifically?'

  The Gatherer claimed to be seeking two white marumaga renegades. He told us that any tribe handing them over or giving information resulting in their successful live capture will have their tithe rescinded for a full eight years.'

  Carnelian could see the desire for such a prize was a passion in her which she was having difficulty suppressing. It promised the salvation of her granddaughter.

  They're trying to trick you,' he said.

  Akaisha's eyes flamed. 'Do you believe, Master, that we are fools?'

  His contrition calmed her. The Tribe's survival depends on you not being found. We're sure we didn't give anything away. Our terror is of the Master out there ...' She glanced away towards the plain. 'If he should be seen by another tribe...'

  'I could go out and try to bring him in.'

  She looked back narrow-eyed. 'So Crowrane was right. The Master fled knowing what might happen to him here.'

  Carnelian felt almost relieved that it had come at last. 'We are to die, then.'

  Her eyebrows raised. 'I won't deny there are many now who wish it and I can no longer protect you. Not now.' She frowned and examined his face. 'Was I wrong to take you in?'

  The pain of doubt in her eyes forced Carnelian to speak. 'I deluded myself with the hope the Master would settle here. I lied to you, Akaisha, to protect him. He is not my brother.'

  She gave a snort. 'You only tell me what I knew already. No mother could produce two such different sons.'

  Considering Fern and Ravan, Carnelian found that a strange statement.

  'You are lovers?'

  Carnelian was embarrassed by her directness. 'We have grown apart.'

  She nodded as if she had known that too. 'Go on with what you were saying.'

  'I believe he may never settle here. He's unable to let go of his old life. Dark passions move him.'

  To what end?'

  Carnelian frowned. Tm not sure, but before the Gatherer came, I was already fearing that his growing influence among the young men might harm the Tribe.'

  Akaisha looked deep into his eyes. 'You tell me this even though you love him?'

  'I love the Tribe too.'

  She examined him for some moments, then smiled. 'Everything you say, Carnie, I already knew in my heart, but you renew my faith that you are indeed my sister's son.'

  She grew grim. 'We still have to deal with the danger the Master poses to us.'

  'I could go out,' Carnelian offered again.

  Akaisha shook her head. The other Elders would not allow it.'

  Carnelian bowed his head, questioning his desire to tell her everything. He raised his eyes to mesh with hers. 'He threatens Ravan.'

  The colour drained from her face. 'Is this why you abandoned Fern?'

  Carnelian nodded. He saw her fighting temptation. 'No,' she said firmly. The decision must be left to the Assembly. We'll meet tomorrow night when Galewing, Crowrane and the others return from escorting the Gatherer.'

  She looked at him. 'What will we do with you until then?'

  'Might I be permitted to return to the Bloodwood Tree?'

  She smiled wanly. 'My son's reprieve is the only joy that has come from this dreadful day. I know they'll come for him. At worst, next year when we had expected it, but who knows, perhaps we mightn't see a Gatherer for a full eight years. There's much living that can be done in such a span of time.'

  Carnelian's heart grew heavy. It had been foolish to hope that any system administered by the Wise would be fallible enough to overlook the punishment of a deserter.

  'No doubt Harth and others will be horrified, but I trust you, Carnie. Go spend tomorrow with my son. Today, both you and he, each in his own way, have had to face death and suffered the certain loss of a daughter.'

  Something woke Carnelian. He sat up. Though it was still dark, he could feel morning was near. Akaisha's voice spoke and was then answered by a man's. Footfalls faded into the creaking of the cedars. He waited listening for a while but there was nothing more. In the darkness it was harder to be brave. He was scared for those he loved and for himself. Death was close enough to suffocate him. To cheat the terror, he drank deep of the perfumed exhalations of his mother tree. Her branches embraced the air he breathed. She soothed him with her sighs. He lay down again, nuzzling into Poppy.

  When the hearth awoke, Akaisha was nowhere to be seen and the older men were absent too. People breakfasted in silence, stealing glances at Carnelian and Poppy, at Fern and Sil and her mother. The horror of the previous day lingered like a chill in the air.

  They were getting ready to disperse to their various tasks when Akaisha appeared. Though weary, her face was not so haunted with fear. She saw the question in their eyes.

  'He's gone.'

  The Mother be praised,' said Whin with a sigh and everyone echoed her. Carnelian could see the tension leaving their shoulders. Some even smiled. The sun had risen high enough to slip its rays down into the hearth. It seemed a kind of hope.

  'Carnie?'

  Carnelian looked at Sil. Their eyes met.

  'Your hunt are warding today,' she said.

  'I thought today I might work with Fern.'

  A sadness came into her eyes, but then she smiled. 'He'd like that.'

  Carnelian returned her smile, then leaned back trying to see round to the sleeping hollows.

  'He's gone already,' said Sil. 'He's taken to missing breakfast.'

  'I'll go down now, then,' he said, rising.

  Poppy clutched his hand. He saw how anxious she was to go with him. They might only have a few days left. He looked at Akaisha, who cleared it with a nod. Carnelian put his hand on Poppy's head. 'Come on then.'

  Together they ran down through the sun dapple among the cedar shades and out into the ferngardens. They caught up with Fern on one of the stretches of the Blooding path.

  He turned and frowned. 'Did I forget something?'

  'Us,' said Carnelian with a grin.

  Fern glanced at Poppy then into Carnelian's eyes. It was clear to both of them that Fern was going to argue, so Poppy took his hand and began pulling him in the direction of the Bloodwood Tree.

  Beneath the angry eyes of the butcher women, Carnelian laboured with Fern heaving offal onto the drag-cradles. They did not talk as they worked; to open their mouths was to swallow flies.

  As they waited for the next pile of entrails, Carnelian's eyes were drawn to Poppy, sitting in the shade nursing her tattooed hand.

  'She's young,' said Fern. 'Her hand will soon heal and then she'll forget.'

  Carnelian turned to look at his friend. 'She only has a year.'

  'A year can seem a lifetime to a child.'

  They both knew Fern might only have the same time to live. Carnelian gazed at his friend, loving him. He fought the desire to tell him. Why burden Fern even more? How could it ever come to something?

  'Hey,' said a woman to get their attention. They returned to their work.

  The hatred some in the Tribe feel towards you will fade,' said Fern.

  Carnelian frowned, thinking of his own death, then remembered to nod.

  Later, in the shade of the Bloodwood Tree, Fern confessed the dreams he had had of seeing his daughter growing up. Carnelian nodded, but was not listening as he watched Poppy returning with their food and water. His mind filled with visions of the woman she would become labouring in some palace on the shores of the Skymere in Osrakum. If she were to fulfil her promise of beauty, she would most likely be taken to bed by a Master and then, perhaps, like Ebeny, become mother to a brood of marumaga. She was destined to have much the same memo
ries of the Earthsky Ebeny had had and told him of. He prayed then that somehow Poppy would be chosen from the flesh tithe for House Suth and become a part of his father's household, where she might find Ebeny. Carnelian determined that that evening, while he still could, he must tell Poppy about Ebeny; he must empty as much knowledge as he could into the girl in the hope that, when the time came, it might help her adapt to her new life among the Standing Dead.

  The sun was a gouged eye when one of the women called out: 'Hunt returning.'

  Carnelian's head jerked up. Coming through the Horngate was a front of aquar from behind which rose the hump of the earther they were dragging. A single rider rode before them who, by his size, could only be Osidian. Carnelian's heart jumped up into his throat. He scanned the riders behind Osidian for Ravan, but because all were shrouded, he could not tell if the youth was there. Why was Osidian putting himself in danger? Looking round, Carnelian saw the agitation among the women standing round the Elder in charge. Two girls were already running back up to the Grove, no doubt to fetch men to attempt Osidian's capture. A warning was in Carnelian's mouth, but he swallowed it. He would not save Osidian at the cost of the Tribe.

  Osidian came on so that Carnelian and Fern were forced to back away from his aquar. Nothing could be seen of him but the slit of black skin holding the emeralds of his eyes. Carnelian was pinned by their scrutiny and felt they were reading his heart.

  'You missed the party,' he said.

  'My Lord is being uncharacteristically flippant’ said Osidian in Quya.

  Carnelian looked past him towards the approaching riders, trying to count them.

  'All are there, my Lord.'

  Their hearths will be glad to see them returned safely.'

  Their hearths will not see them. They are mine, now.'

  Carnelian recoiled from the cold Quyan verb that was used to denote the owning of slaves.

  'Come with me now, Carnelian.'

  'I cannot. Akaisha has my promise that I will not leave the Koppie.'

  'Perhaps you should fear the consequences that might come from keeping promises to savages.' 'You threaten Ravan?'

  'Why would I hurt the boy when he has proved himself such a willing catamite.'