The Standing Dead - Stone Dance of the Chameleon 02

by Ricardo Pinto

  '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.

  SCREAMING

  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.

  (from 'Of This and That' by the Ruling Lord Kirinya Prase)

  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 i
nterpreters 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.