The Standing Dead - Stone Dance of the Chameleon 02

by Ricardo Pinto

  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 R
avan 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.

  WOUNDED EARTH

  One year sown, six years fallow lest the earth should lose her fertility.

  (Quyan fragment)

  Two Manila came to summon Carnelian. His heart sank when he saw where they were taking him. Still, he followed them. Krow came running to join him. Carnelian had forgotten Osidian had given the youth permission to remain behind. Neither was in the mood for conversation. Carnelian found distraction in counting the beads of bone and wood making up the corselet of the Maruli leading the way.

  Carnelian's nose told him they were nearing the idol. It was impossible not to smell the rot rising from the blood-soaked earth upon which Osidian and Morunasa were standing waiting.

  'Morunasa wishes to ask you something, my Lord,' Osidian said.

  'Do we have to speak breathing this miasma?'

  Manila showed Carnelian a spear.

  'It's a spear,' Carnelian said, in Vulgate.

  'A Flatlander spear,' Morunasa said, displaying it.

  Carnelian was aware of nothing but the corpse of the man he had killed above him weighing the air with its fetor.

  'Well?' demanded Morunasa.

  'If you've something to say, Maruli, just say it!'

  Morunasa regarded Carnelian with slitted eyes. 'We found this here, Master. It has blood on it.'

  'Everything here has blood on it.'

  Morunasa pointed up to the post where Carnelian did not want to look. 'See there.'