The Standing Dead - Stone Dance of the Chameleon 02

by Ricardo Pinto

  'What now?' Ravan asked.

  Carnelian eyed the youth. 'We repair the Ladder.' 'And if we choose not to help you?' 'I won't need your help.' Fern's eyebrows rose.

  Carnelian pushed his way past Ravan and walked along the chasm edge until he came to the tensioned cables of the sartlar ladder. Ravan, Fern and many of the other Plainsmen followed him.

  'What're you doing, Carnie?' asked Fern.

  'You'll see soon enough.' Carnelian hung himself on the nearest cable, then let it go. A satisfying quiver could be heard ratding down into the chasm.

  'Where does this go?' Ravan asked, but Carnelian ignored him and pulled the cable down twice more. Then he waited. As time passed and nothing happened, he grew embarrassed. Carnelian pulled on the cable three times more in quick succession. He went to the edge and looked over. The rippling in the netting stilled, then nothing.

  'What's going on?' Fern pleaded.

  Carnelian confronted them. 'I'm trying to summon the sartlar the Master told me are lodged in caves beneath our feet.'

  Ignoring their looks of disbelief, Carnelian turned his back on the fall, knelt on the chasm edge and, taking hold of the netting, lowered himself down.

  The ladder was like rigging. Clambering down it, Carnelian snagged his foot often, so that each time he had to, precariously, disentangle it. He froze whenever he caught a glimpse of the rock face plunging away into the dizzying depths.

  At last, reaching down and waving his foot around, Carnelian could find nothing but air. Peering down caused him to clutch the netting. There was nothing but space below him. Feeling a quivering in the netting, he looked up and saw Fern descending.

  'What are you doing?' he called up.

  Fern peered down. 'I'd have thought that was obvious. I'm coming with you.'

  Carnelian sank his head with exasperation. The Master expressly forbade it.'

  'He's not here though, is he?'

  Carnelian could hear the smile in his friend's tone and, glancing up, saw him grinning. Carnelian was unable to stay angry and returned the grin.

  'I suppose now that you're here already .. .'

  'I thought you might see it my way,' said Fern, smugly.

  The others?'

  'I'm the only one stupid enough to risk it.'

  Both laughed. Carnelian felt a surge of emotion as he realized how much he had missed his friendship. The netting shook again as Fern resumed his descent.

  'Wait,' Carnelian cried up, remembering the netting ran out below him. Looking to his left, he saw a ledge. Cold sweat sheathed his skin as he judged the swing to reach it.

  Fern's voice drifted down from above. 'What's going on?'

  'Hold on,' Carnelian cried. He reminded himself that Osidian and Moranasa had done it. He moved to the edge of the netting and leaned his body into the cable to which it was attached.

  'Here goes,' he muttered. Clambering astride the cable, he let go and fell onto the ledge. He sidled along it and with a sigh of relief found the mouth of a cave. He spent moments peering into its gloom before Fern's thin voice brought him back to look up at the ladder.

  Fern's face was twisted with anxiety. Carnelian explained what he had done and then retreated back into the safety of the cave. He heard the rasp of the ladder as its rope rubbed against the rock and then, after a few agonizing moments, Fern slipped round the rock and Carnelian grabbed him. They clung to each other laughing. Their eyes met and they fell silent. They drew apart. Fern blew out and shook his head. That was no fun at all.'

  They squinted into the cave, listening.

  'Can you hear anything?' Fern whispered.

  Leaning into the cave mouth, Carnelian cried out in a clear ringing voice. 'Attend me.'

  The gloom swallowed his words, then the echoes. Nothing stirred in the depths.

  'We're going to have to go in,' said Carnelian.

  Fern looked incredulous. 'In there?'

  'You stay here.'

  Fern shook his head. 'Where you go, I go.'

  They gathered their courage and advanced into the cave mouth. When they had gone only a little way it became difficult to see. Carnelian put his mouth to Fern's ear.

  'Sartlar are monstrous, but harmless.' He felt Fern nodding.

  They penetrated deeper, their hands sculling the damp air as they groped for the walls. On and on they crept. Carnelian thought of calling out, but did not dare. He was considering turning back when he saw some light dawning ahead.

  Torchlight?' Fern whispered.

  Carnelian shrugged.

  The light flickered brighter and they found they were coming into a region lit by a brazier.

  Carnelian jumped when Fern lurched. 'What is it?' he hissed.

  Fern pointed to the vague shapes ahead, both more alive than shadows. As they drew closer, these apparitions grew larger.

  'Our reflections,' whispered Carnelian. He leaned close to the wall. Following a hunch he licked his finger, rubbed it down the wall, tasted it, then stood back amazed. 'Salt.'

  Fern gaped. 'Salt?' He gingerly stretched out his hand to touch it.

  Taste it,' whispered Carnelian.

  Fern did and his eyes grew enormous as he surveyed the cavern in which they stood. 'All salt,' he gasped.

  'Who knows how much. Perhaps the whole cliff.' He let out a low whistle. 'No wonder he didn't want you Plainsmen to see this.'

  Fern stared at him. The Master knows about this?'

  'The Maruli brought him down here, remember.'

  Fern gave a slow nod. There's enough here to make the Tribe rich.'

  There may well be enough here to buy the whole of the Earthsky,' said Carnelian, grimly.

  Fern's look of wonder soured. This is why the Master brought us here.'

  Carnelian nodded. 'I knew there was something else. No wonder the Marula are desperate to regain this place.'

  Fern reached out to touch the salt wall. 'If the men found out...'

  They looked grimly at each other.

  'We can't let him have so much power,' said Carnelian voicing their common thought.

  The moment he returns, he dies.'

  Carnelian was gripped by a rage against Osidian for driving them to murder. 'Come on.'

  Deeper into the cavern, it narrowed into a cleft. Squeezing through, they came into a new cavern dimly lit in which an animal odour hung heavy in the air.

  This — Carnelian began, but suddenly he tensed, sensing movement in the air, a rustling. Peering into the gloom, he saw the chamber before them was filling with shadows. Sartlar, menacing in their silence. Though their lank hair concealed their eyes, he could feel them watching him. Not for a long while had he felt so strongly the need for a mask. He straightened, and as he did the sartlar drew back moaning. He froze. When he lifted his hand a shudder moved through their mass.

  'You terrify them,' whispered Fern.

  Carnelian regarded the creatures with pity. He had good cause to know what cruel treatment they expected.

  'I am a Master,' he said gently in Vulgate. They answered him with a muttering fear.

  'We know ... what you are,' a voice trembled from their midst.

  The heads of the sartlar eddied as if a boat were cutting through them and a sartlar emerged. A creature the size of a child but with large, calloused hands and leathery feet like spades. As the creature shambled closer, Carnelian saw it was clothed in a matting of grey hair. It came close enough so he could smell its vinegar odour. He fought disgust. With a groan, it fell heavily to its knees. Pity, distaste, embarrassment even, all these emotions flowed through Carnelian as he looked down from his great height upon that pathetic bundle.

  'Rise,' he said as kindly as he could manage.

  The creature stumbled up onto its feet. It even dared to look up at him. The grey, greasy locks parted to show a gnarled leathery face, disfigured by the branding of the circular 'earth' glyph that proclaimed it a sartlar from the Guarded Land. He wondered what strange circumstances could have brought such a creatur
e so far. He noticed the twin pockets of flesh sagging down the chest. Those dugs proved it was a female of its kind. Even though he could not see her eyes, he knew she was regarding him. Something about her manner made Carnelian recall the sartlar who had been kind to him when he himself had been a slave.

  'She worships you,' hissed Fern.

  Carnelian was wrenched free of his fascination. He spoke over his shoulder. 'How did we appear to you when you first looked upon us? To these creatures the Standing Dead must be like gods.'

  'Our magic ...' said the sartlar woman.

  He looked down at her again and this time caught the glimmer of her dark eyes as they dared to search his face. Her scrutiny made him feel abused. From deep inside him rose a desire to have her taken away, disposed of.

  'What?' he said, fighting the Masterly instinct.

  'It can't work against you,' she said.

  'I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about.'

  'You want us to work ... ?'

  'Repairing the Ladder.' For some reason he found he was pointing vaguely back the way they had come, as if they could see the ladder of which he spoke.

  The sartlar woman greeted his comment with silence. Her fellow creatures shifted like aquar behind her.

  'I hoped the other Master might have made arrangements with you . ..' He bit his lip, not understanding his discomfiture.

  The woman struck her forehead off the floor with a crack that made Carnelian wince.

  'As the Master commands, so shall it be done.'

  Carnelian stood for some moments more before, following Fern, they quit that place; almost running, so desperate were they to cleanse their lungs with bright, fresh air.

  The disgust produced among the Plainsmen by the sartlar as they poured up from the netting avoided any questions about the caves. Seeing the creatures huddling in a herd, Carnelian began to wonder if they would be any use in repairing the Ladder. The sartlar he had spoken to before stood, head hanging, close enough he could smell her rank odour.

  'Do you know what to do?' he asked her.

  'What the Master commands,' she answered without lifting her head.

  Then I say that you and the rest of your kind must repair the Ladder.'

  'As you command, Master.'

  Her submissiveness irritated him: the Plainsmen looking on turned this feeling to anger.

  'How am I supposed to ... ?' His voice tailed off.

  'You're the Master,' the sartlar muttered.

  As he walked along the chasm edge, everyone followed him. Peering over, he saw the broken Ladder. At that distance it was just a nest of rope.

  'I'll have to go down there myself,' he said.

  Krow stood forward. 'I'll go, Master.'

  Carnelian smiled at the youth's eagerness. Thank you, Krow, but I need to see the damage for myself.'

  As Krow's face fell, Fern spoke up. 'Carnie, you should let him go. He'll be able to tell you what he sees.'

  Carnelian was warmed by what he saw in Fern's eyes. His friend fixed him with an intense look. 'If you should die?'

  Carnelian understood Fern's fear. If anything should happen to him, how could the Master be thwarted?

  'A Master can't die,' said a husky voice.

  Carnelian saw the sartlar woman had crept up beside them. He gazed at her, wondering what she meant. He supposed that, to a sartlar, the Masters might well appear to be immortal.

  'Let me go, Master,' said Krow.

  Carnelian saw Fern's nod and gave way.

  They tied Krow to the rope they had used to lower Osidian and Morunasa then, slowly, they lowered him down into the chasm.

  After a while, Carnelian turned to Fern. 'Why were you so keen he should go?'

  'He's taken the Master's rejection hard. He needs something to distract him.'

  Krow had reached the Ladder. Carnelian watched him examine it. i fear he merely wishes to follow the Master.'

  'If that's so, isn't it better he should do so with our help than without?'

  Carnelian glanced at Fern and saw the truth of it.

  Krow was waving. Carnelian gave the order to draw him back up. When the youth appeared over the edge, Carnelian grabbed hold of him. Krow looked pale but pleased with himself. Carnelian waited until he had calmed down a little before asking him to describe what he had seen. Carnelian pondered the problem.

  'Have you worked out how to do it?' Fern asked at last.

  'I think so,' said Carnelian. He put the back of a fist against the palm of his other hand. 'At the moment, the broken portion of the Ladder is sort of curled like my fist.' He looked at Krow, who confirmed it with a nod. Carnelian allowed his hand to uncurl. 'If we attach ropes from up here we can unroll the Ladder up the cliff high enough to secure it into the forked posts that Krow says have been left in the rock. Attaching ropes progressively higher each time' — his fist uncurled until the hand lay flat against the other — 'we should be able to bring it all the way up here.'

  'And what do we do then?' asked Fern. 'We attach it to those anchor trees,' said Carnelian indicating the two baobabs with their rope girdles. 'How?'

  Carnelian noticed the sartlar woman was watching his hands. 'We can sort that out once we get there.'

  He turned to the sartlar and pushed his hands closer to her. 'You understand this?'

  She gave a nod. 'Yes, Master.'

  'We'll need lots of ropes, each long enough to reach the Ladder below.'

  'We understand,' said the sartlar.

  'We'll have to lower your people down there to attach the ropes ...'

  She turned her disfigured face up to look at him. 'People?'

  He indicated the others of her kind with his hand. She looked round. 'Sartlar,' she said.

  'We can use aquar to pull the ropes.'

  The woman sunk her head.

  'Is there anything the matter?' he asked her.

  'Better we should do it, Master.'

  He frowned. The Ladder will be immensely heavy.'

  She struck the ground with her foot. 'We take our strength from the earth.'

  Carnelian shrugged. 'I'll trust you ... What are you called?'

  The sartlar looked up, her eyes so narrowed the folds almost closed them altogether.

  Carnelian grew uncomfortable under that scrutiny. 'You have a name?'

  'Kor, Master.'

  Carnelian was surprised. In Quya, that sound was the word for death.

  'Well, Kor,' he said. 'You'll explain to the other ... ?' 'People ... ?' she suggested.

  Carnelian felt off-balance. 'Yes ...'

  'As the Master commands,' said Kor and falling to her knees, made an abject prostration before him. He waited for her to get up but she lay there as if she were dead.

  'You can go.'

  The mess of rags came alive and was soon hobbling off towards the other sartlar.

  'Disgusting creatures,' Fern said.

  Carnelian turned on him. 'Her kind, even more than the Plainsmen, are the victims of the Standing Dead.'

  Over the following days, the sartlar went at their task like ants. Krow assumed the role of overseer, but soon gave this up. The sartlar worked seemingly without instruction, though sometimes Carnelian saw Kor moving among them and concluded she must be directing them.

  Sartlar were lowered to the Ladder. Heavy ropes were dropped down to them which, once attached to the left cable, were hoisted so that the dangling section of the Ladder ended up folded over the part still intact. Once the pulled-up corner was secured, the ropes were removed and sartlar clambered down the dangling portion to reattach them further down the loose section. Gangs of sartlar held on to each rope and, digging their heels into the soil, heaved the whole mass up. Once raised high enough, the Ladder was made secure and the whole procedure was repeated. The strength of the sartlar amazed Carnelian so that he could almost believe Kor's boast that they were drawing it from the earth.

  Confident the sartlar could work without supervision, Carnelian let the Plainsmen
linger up on the knoll and took to resting in the shadow of one of the anchor baobabs with Fern. Dozing, they talked about the Tribe, the Koppie, of the life they might have once they were free of the Master.

  One such time they fell to discussing how they would kill him. Upset, Carnelian declared that he would do it; that it was his responsibility. Already unhappy about this, Fern was made worse when Carnelian suggested they bring Ravan into their plot.

  'Why?'

  'Have you seen the way he looked at the Master? He clearly hates him.'

  Fern became miserable. The Master still possesses him.'

  Carnelian decided he must trust Fern's instinct.

  At that moment a commotion broke out. Leaping up, he ran round the tree and saw sartlar being dragged towards the chasm by their ropes. Some who had fallen were being flayed and were forced to let go. The others picked up speed, heading for the edge.

  Carnelian ran towards them, shouting: 'Let go. Let go.'

  Some did, but others seemed unable to release their grip and the ropes lashed them out into space. Carnelian reached the edge in time to watch them ride the ropes down, down into the chasm. The Ladder hurtled earthwards, snapping free of the posts like cloth tearing buttons. He put his hands over his face as he watched sartlar spinning down through the air. Through his fingers, he saw far below the Ladder holding where it had held before. Its loose portion whipped into the cliff with a thud he could feel coming up through the ground.

  'Great Father,' breathed Fern.

  Carnelian let his hands fall and shook his head in disbelief, staring as if that might undo the disaster. He heard padding footfalls and turned to see Kor behind him.

  'What happened?' he gasped.

  She cowered. 'Shall I jump, Master?'

  'What?' he cried.

  'Punishment,' she whispered.

  He understood and groaned. 'No. No, Kor. I'm sure it's not your fault.' He turned back, blaming himself. 'One of the forked posts must have given way. So much loss of life.'

  There're still enough of us, Master.'

  He turned on her and the outrage in his face made her collapse. 'Do you feel nothing over the loss of your people?'