The Standing Dead - Stone Dance of the Chameleon 02

by Ricardo Pinto

  Many of the hunters blushed; looked away; let their eyes fall.

  The Elder approached the saurian, nodding as she appraised him. 'I can't deny that he's magnificent.'

  The youths lifted their heads desperate for her approval.

  'But you've cut him down in the full flowering of his strength. He should be out there fathering more of his kind. Didn't that occur to any of you? Did you also forget his herd will need him to defend them against raveners?'

  The hunters withered under her disapproval.

  'We've brought meat for the Tribe,' said Krow, aggrieved.

  'Meat?' Ginkga demanded. 'Can't you see that even if we were ready for him, he's got more on him than we could possibly process before he begins to rot? Not to mention that we're expecting Kyte's hunt in tomorrow.' 'So some'll be wasted.'

  Ginkga regarded Ravan as if he were speaking a foreign tongue. 'All flesh is a gift from the Mother.'

  Ravan gave her a sneer as he pointed at the young bull. 'We weren't given that. We took it,' he said, snatching a handful of air.

  People gaped in shock. Fern strode forward, his skin and hair stiff with blood.

  'Have you lost every last bit of sense you had? How can you say such things?'

  Ravan's smile chilled Carnelian. The Master has taught me to be a man.'

  Ignoring Ginkga's glare, Ravan turned on his heel and, accompanied reluctantly by Krow, strode to his aquar.

  'You come back here,' she bellowed, but Ravan was deaf to her as he unhitched his aquar from the sled.

  'Child, I command you to return with me to the Ancestor House.'

  Ravan vaulted into his saddle-chair, made his aquar rise and sent it striding away towards the Horngate. The other youths looked, some apologetic, some angry, but they too were unhitching their aquar. They ignored Ginkga, who was in their midst pulling at them, berating them. Carnelian moved forward with Fern, but neither was sure what to do.

  Raising a choking cloud of red dust, the hunters flew after Ravan. The women pulled their ubas over their noses and mouths, all the time staring at the Elder. She was coughing, squinting at the veiled shapes of the riders as they rode out onto the plain. A movement above her drew her eye. Poppy and a boy were still astride the bull.

  'Have you no respect? Get down from there!'

  The children slithered to the ground and fled with the others back to the racks.

  Ginkga turned on Carnelian. 'Are you satisfied, Master?' Then she rounded on the women.

  'Well? Don't you think we'd better get on with it or shall we just stand here all day watching the poor bastard rot?'

  News of Ravan's defiance spread quickly through the Koppie. Carnelian saw how keenly Akaisha and Fern felt the hearth's shame. At first rumours abounded of the punishment that would certainly be meted out upon the errant youths, but as time passed it became clear the Elders were not going to act. People looked at their old people and wondered at their powerlessness.

  Ravan did not return, but the youths who returned periodically with their kills upon other sleds confirmed he was hunting with the Master.

  One time, Krow came with others boasting of a brawl in which they had triumphed over some Bluedancing. Around the hearths it was difficult not to greet this news with approval. For as long as anyone could remember, the Bluedancing had been provoking the Ochre. It was high time those bullies were shown there were men prepared to stand up to them. Whin was clearly unimpressed by the assurances that the Master had remained concealed throughout the brawl. Carnelian and Akaisha exchanged glances, both wondering if Osidian was sending them a warning.

  The increasing glamour of hunting with the Master made more and more of the Tribe's young men desert their hunts for his. Forced to defend them, their kin declared that all they were doing was risking their lives daily beyond the safety of the ditches for the good of the Tribe, for its pride. Others were not so forgiving. They were resentful so many of the young men should refuse to fetch water or to work in the ditches, but they did not feel they could protest too much in case people should believe they spoke out of envy at the evident success of the Master's hunt. These malcontents carried their anger to the Elders, who once more showed themselves unwilling or unable to act.

  There were other concerns. The mother trees declared the beginning of the Withering by producing cones while, beneath a high pearlescent sky, the sun was burning the world to dust.

  One day, struggling against smothering heat, Carnelian became aware that every fern frond he could see was brown. Gazing out past the Newditch, he saw the world beyond was sepia to the horizon.

  'How can anyone possibly survive out there in that shadeless world?' he rasped through his parched throat.

  Fern had a sombre look. The lagoons will soon dry up and then the herds will begin their migration to the mountains. We must follow them or else die.'

  Carnelian smiled. 'At least we'll be free of this,' he said, lifting up his brown, blood-stained arms. He watched Fern return to his work miserable, frowning, and only then remembered it would also be time to send children to Osrakum.

  'Smoke,' Carnelian cried, pointing at a mass of it rising well above the crowns of the magnolias, bending its back as it leaned towards the west.

  Not hearing other cries joining to his own, he turned and saw that only a few people had even bothered to lift their heads. He pulled at Fern.

  'Fire.'

  His friend seemed infuriatingly unconcerned. There's fire spreading within the Newditch,' said Carnelian.

  Fern gave a nod. 'We must burn the ferngardens now while they still have the memory of green life in them.'

  Carnelian watched the edge of the pall fraying in the breeze and understood. Soon the ferngardens would be tinder-dry.

  Fern spoke again. 'If we burn them now, any fire that comes across the plain will find nothing here to consume and so turn aside.'

  Carnelian gazed out over the plain and his breathing stilled as "he contemplated how easily it could all turn to flame.

  Every day after that, a ferngarden was set alight, beginning with the westernmost and moving progressively closer to the Grove. Soon, while at his work, Carnelian was able to watch the neighbouring field being sown with fire. Starting at its western margin, gradually retreating with the breeze at their backs, people wrapped in soaked blankets beat smoke from the flames as they steered the smoulder over the land.

  The day that they burned the Eastgarden, Carnelian and Fern were spared their labours. From the safety of the Homeditch they stood and watched the Bloodwood Tree sifting clots of smoke through its branches. That evening and for many after, they had to quit the Grove, for the breeze carried the smoke in among the mother trees. Carnelian took his turn at moving along the eastern run of the Homewalk, his mouth and nose smothered beneath his soaked uba, his eyes stinging, making sure that, though serpents of blue smoke might be curling among their trunks, no spark would live long enough to harm the mother trees.

  At last, men returning from the lagoon announced it had shrunk to brackish pools. What water they had managed to bring back they distributed direcdy among the hearths. Standing round with Akaisha, Whin and the others,

  Carnelian saw their allowance was not even enough to fill their water jar halfway.

  Akaisha tasted it and, grimacing, spat it out. This isn't good enough to drink.' She smiled grimly round at her hearthkin, then pointed at the jar. 'Wash yourselves as best you can with that. There'll be no more washing until we reach the mountains. I'm going to meet with the other Elders.'

  Sil touched her emaciated arm. 'My mother, can we take water from the cistern to drink?' 'A little,' Akaisha said and walked away. Carnelian caught her up and fell in step. 'Migration?' 'A few days at most.' 'Why do we delay?'

  'We daren't expose the Tribe to the plain until we are certain the raveners are gone.'

  They walked on some more in silence. The charcoal reek of burning still persisted disturbingly in the Grove.

  'I'm worried about Ravan,
the others,' said Carnelian.

  She stopped and looked him in the eye. 'Don't you think their mothers are too? Thirst will bring them in.'

  She took leave of him and he watched her go. Peering out through the cedar canopy, he hoped she was right. He imagined Osidian and the others out there alone in what had become a desert. If he came in, it was certain the Elders would have him killed. They had waited long; had suffered enough humiliation. A turmoil of emotions churned Carnelian's stomach. It was a while before he remembered that Osidian's death might be closely followed by his own.

  Next day, half the Tribe came down to the djada field to bale the dried meat and load it onto the drag-cradles that had been laid flat on the ground in neat rows. Night was falling when the job was done.

  With Poppy, Carnelian proudly surveyed his stack of djada coils. 'It took longer than I thought.'

  'It always does,' said Fern. 'Come on or we'll be late for the feast.'

  'Feast?' Carnelian asked seeing how sad Fern had become.

  His friend glanced at Poppy. Tonight is Skai's Tithing Feast. Tomorrow, he leaves for the Mountain.'

  The girl took his hand and clung to it. Sharing the pain, Carnelian was relieved his friend's eyes held no blame.

  Together they wandered up past the rows of drag-cradles.

  There's a lot of djada, isn't there, Poppy?' Carnelian said. The girl gave the merest nod.

  'It'll have to feed us all until we return, as well as the aquar on the journey,' said Fern.

  'How long will we be away?'

  Fern shrugged. 'Until the Rains come: between four and five moons.'

  Carnelian squeezed Poppy's hand. 'It'll be quite an adventure, won't it?' She gave him a watery smile.

  He and Fern continued making conversation about the migration as they passed under the Old Bloodwood Tree. The ferngarden on the other side of the Outditch was black and barren.

  'I can't get used to the stench of burning.'

  The Rains will wash it away,' said Fern.

  His friend's blank expression made Carnelian certain Fern was thinking about his daughter. Carnelian walked the rest of the way brooding about whether he would survive to suffer the day of Poppy's Tithing Feast.

  They did not hear the usual talk and laughter as they approached the hearth. Instead there was a murmur, as if people were afraid of making echoes. They formed two rows of shadows enclosing the fire glow. One rose; it was Akaisha coming to meet them.

  'We've been waiting for you,' she whispered, then led them back towards the hearth.

  As Carnelian came fully into the firelight, he made a smile for all the sad faces ruddy in its glow. There was one among them he had not expected to see.

  'Ravan,' he gasped. 'Have the others returned with you ... ?'

  Vestiges of hunting paint deepened the shadows around the youth's eyes. They choose to remain with the Master.'

  Then why are you here?' said Fern.

  'I've come as the Master's emissary.'

  Fern snorted a laugh. '"Emissary?" Do you really believe you're going to impress anyone with those airs?'

  Ravan reddened. 'I suppose you consider yourself fit to speak for the Tribe. I would've thought the past season hardly prepared you for anything better than carrying offal.'

  Fern's murderous advance on Ravan was stopped by Akaisha's voice. 'Shut up, both of you! You shame me even more than you shame yourselves. Have you forgotten whose night this is?'

  Fern paled and returned to his place. Ravan remained standing, not even looking at his mother, still glaring at his brother.

  'Sit down,' Akaisha hissed through her teeth.

  Ravan glanced at her, then shrugged before dropping insolently onto the bench. Separating from Poppy, Carnelian waited to see her in her place, then he walked round Ravan to sit beside Fern. Sil was watching her husband with concern. Akaisha was looking down at her lap. When she lifted her head sorrow was softening her face.

  'Whin, dear, will you be first?'

  As Whin rose, Carnelian saw Skai sitting where the rootbenches met; Akaisha's traditional place. Leaning over the pot, Whin ladled some of its contents into a bowl. She held it up to Skai and looked at him through her tears.

  'My heart will ache for you for ever, my little one.'

  Carnelian watched as one by one his hearthkin took the bowl, put a little more broth into it and pledged him their love. Then Akaisha told Carnelian it was his turn. He glanced at Whin, at the boy's parents. He was overcome that they should show no hatred for him on such a terrible day. It was all he could do to manage the ritual without spilling the bowl along with his tears.

  Beneath the Crying Tree, the Tribe formed a ring around the five tithe children and the men and women who were to accompany them to the Mountain. Appraising the gathering with a Master's eye, Carnelian saw a crowd of unkempt savages standing around a brown-leafed tree among the ashes of a dying land. In their midst the tithe children seemed a beggarly tribute to pay the Lords of the Three Lands in Osrakum. Carnelian looked around him at the dark faces and saw their human pain. Shame crushed his false aloofness. It was in his blood, his bones, that he felt the value of what was being given up. These children were flesh torn living from the body of the Tribe. It only took the thought that the following year Poppy would be standing there for him to be suffering with them. He drew her closer to his side.

  'Why is he here?' cried a woman's voice.

  Harth, pointing at Carnelian, drew the eyes of the Tribe to him. He broke into a sweat. Akaisha clasped his shoulder.

  'As a member of my hearth, Carnie has as much right as any to be here.'

  Fern and Sil, holding each other and their baby, both gave him a solemn nod. Whin's bleak eyes saw nothing but her grandson.

  Scowling, Harth looked away. Beside her Crowrane kept his glare fixed on Carnelian but people were turning back to the tithe children.

  'We go, fathers and mothers,' said the men and women standing beside them. 'We go, brothers and sisters.'

  Those going looked at those remaining and they in turn looked back. Ash floated in the air like infernal snow.

  'Son,' a father cried and ran in to embrace one of the children. His action released many others. People streamed across the divide; the sound of their grief a winter wind.

  Ginkga, her voice none too steady, commanded that they must all face this bravely. The ring re-formed slowly. The sobbing died to a groaning, then to a rocking of heads. Aquar were brought laden with djada, fernroot as well as cone-nuts and die other few luxuries the Tribe had managed to hoard for this day. Solemn-faced, Harth held aloft a loaf of salt which she showed to the Tribe.

  The blood of our men,' she said, then wrapped the loaf lovingly in an oiled cloth before handing it to one of the tribute-bearers. A gap appeared in the further curve of the ring and the tributaries moved out through it. The whole Tribe walked with them across the Poisoned Field and down to the Outditch, where the tributaries had to wait for them all to cross. They followed them across the blackened ferngarden to the Newditch and out onto the gold of the plain.

  The whole Tribe stood watching as the aquar carrying their tribute took the first steps of their long journey to the distant Mountain. Looking back with tear-striped dusty faces, the children were soon lost beyond a veil of dust.

  The Tribe buried their grief in the feverish final preparations for leaving. Carnelian went down with Fern and others to the djada field to fetch the packs their hearthmates would be carrying on the migration. Poppy aside, the children did not seem haunted by the hearth's loss and ran around in shrill excitement. Whin and her sisters frowned, but most looked on indulgently, glad these at least they had kept. Carnelian felt people were trying not to look at him.

  Most of the cooking pots had been stowed and so that night they had the first meal of what promised to be many of djada washed down with a mouthful of water. The taste brought back to Carnelian memories of his journey from the Guarded Land. These forced Carnelian to confront his feelings for
Osidian and what he was doing. Ravan had returned to him that morning. Carnelian shared the Tribe's desperation to see their young men return safely. All day he had been finding it difficult to stay silent when he saw the accusing looks the Elders were getting from everyone. Time was running out. Osidian must return. It was inconceivable he had not planned for this. There was hope in Ravan's visit. Surely he had come to bring the Elders some proposal from the Master, but if they had come to any arrangement, they were keeping it to themselves.

  He looked for Akaisha in the root fork and found it was empty. He leaned close to Fern.

  'Where's your mother gone?'

  'Preparing the guardians for the Grove gates.'

  'Guardians?' Carnelian said, wondering who was being left behind.

  'Huskmen.'

  Carnelian rose. 'Where will I find her?'

  Fern pulled him back. 'Waking the huskmen is a ritual tinged with death and thus dangerous to all but the Elders.'

  Carnelian nodded and sat down again. The hearth felt dead without its fire. He was cold and unhappy. Glancing at the packs all lying neatly stowed against the trunk of the mother tree, he realized he was already feeling homesick. He looked up into her branches and smiled. He would miss her and her perfume. Looking down, his eyes met Poppy's. She looked away sadly, glancing in the direction of the sleeping hollows. Where, Carnelian thought, her own tree lies buried.

  The Tribe rose with the sun. Poppy's face was beautiful in its melancholy. Today we go to the mountains.'

  To the mountains,' said Carnelian, searching for Akaisha. He spotted her by the rootstair marshalling the men. He set Poppy to stowing their blankets to keep her out of his way. As he approached Akaisha, the men began filing down the hill. She regarded him with a frown.

  'Where are they going, my mother?'

  To hitch the aquar to the drag-cradles. You should go and help them.'

  'May I first speak with you?'

  Akaisha thought about it. 'Wait here a moment.'

  He watched her go and give some final instructions to the women, then she beckoned him. As he neared her, Sil walked past him avoiding his gaze.