The Chosen - Stone Dance of the Chameleon 01

by Ricardo Pinto

  'And this anchorage, I presume, is in the swamps?' said Aurum.

  'And what will we do if we should miss it?' said Suth.

  The winds will take us there,' said Vennel. 'We would be sailing before the tempest rather than against it. We would hug the shore. If there is some error in the captain's calculations, no matter. There are countless trading posts all the way up this coast.'

  'And what does my Lord suggest that we should do once we find this salubrious spot?' asked Jaspar.

  'We should carry out what repairs we can and wait until the tempest has blown itself out. From there we would need only a few days of clear weather to make a crossing to Thuyakalrul across the open sea.'

  'I can see that you have given this matter much thought, Vermel,' said Aurum. 'But you seem to have neglected one factor.'

  'And what, pray, is that, Great Lord?'

  Time.'

  'What matter time if we should end up among the fish?'

  'You well know, my Lord, that time in this matter is everything,' said Aurum with an edge to his voice.

  'You heard the captain's words. He said that we will founder if we pursue our present course.'

  'He said that we might founder.'

  'You also forget, Vermel,' said Suth, 'that it was not one of the Chosen who spoke those words. So, the creature fears. What of it? It is a condition of its state.'

  'Valour will not make this vessel move against the wind,' said Vennel.

  'But oars will, my Lord.'

  'Even a full complement of oarsmen could not maintain such an effort. How much less can we depend on the animals we have below?'

  That is true, and that is why we must needs bend our own servants to the task.'

  'My votes and my slaves are yours, my Lord,' said Aurum.

  'I too will throw my ring in with Lord Suth's,' said Jaspar.

  'In that case it is decided,' said Aurum. 'We shall continue on to Thuyakalrul.'

  The drum beat its dirge in the ship's rotting belly. In his cabin, Carnelian clapped his hands over his ears. It was a long time since it had started and its insistent pounding was driving him mad. He stroked the eye on the silver box. It was a door he was reluctant to pass through even though it promised escape. Twenty days. The captain had said that they had been at sea for twenty days. Truly it had seemed like an eternity. He could hardly remember when his life had not consisted of dreaming in this cabin. Tain was snoring. Crail seemed less alive than something carved into the bulkhead. Those twenty days were all lost time. A single unending night. The wooden bulkheads pressed in on him. Carnelian wanted to stretch, to stand tall. He rose and curved up against the ceiling. He shuffled on his cloak, put on his mask and left the cabin.

  The drumbeat pulsed louder in the corridor. He climbed the stairway and passed through the door onto the deck. The sky was striped with cloud. The moon hid its silver eye behind some tatters. A voice cried from the deck. Others answered from above. He looked up the mast. Only a few sails were unfurled, great hands running their fingers through the sky. The ship's heart beat on and on. The deck leaned off to starboard. He walked down it to the rail, leant over and saw the oar heads fly out into the air like fish. The drum thumped and they plunged back in. His people were down there on the end of those oars, in the stinking dark, pickling in brine with the sartlar half-men. He slid his hand along the rail. Where the harpoon engine had been there was nothing, a gap and the torn deck where the bolts had pulled through. The moonlight suddenly brightened and sketched an eddying silver inlay over the sea.

  The melodies of Master voices fluttered his heart. He turned and saw the two apparitions come up out of the ship and drift off towards the prow. Carnelian was sure that they would see him but they kept right on. They stood under the stem. He could hear the lilt of their Quya but could understand nothing of what they said. The moonlight dimmed. Carnelian looked up and saw that the moon now passed mysterious behind a veil of cloud. He looked to the prow and saw that one of the Masters was looking up at the moon. His mask caught a rill of its light. He stooped and ignited the Gods' fire on Their altar. Carnelian was uneasy under the Green Face's lurid stare. The Masters turned so that the firelight fell on their hands and then began to make signs.

  Carnelian looked up again. He estimated the length of the cloud behind which the moon was sliding and decided to take the chance. He lifted his bright hands up into the sleeves of his cloak, then crept towards the prow trusting to the darkness. He came close enough to see the signing hands.

  ... her eyes are not only here. The signs were shot through with a jewel glimmer that spoke of Aurum's hands.

  ... even she would not dare. Those signs had his father's familiar framing.

  Do you forget what she has already dared? made with strong, bold gesture. Aurum.

  If she should even for a moment suspect. His father with a certain nervous slurring between the signs.

  Aurum made a sign of reassurance.

  His father's hands began signing again. Her arm has grown long indeed if she can stretch it even to the sea.

  Her arm has grown long, the signs precise with emphasis.

  Carnelian sensed more than saw the moon waxing. It was as if he felt its colour on his back. He turned, hoping that the Masters were focused on their conversation. When he reached the mast, he moved behind it and from there went down the steps two at a time.

  When he had closed the door of his cabin Carnelian stood for some moments listening. Wind. Timbers creaking. He removed his mask, threw off his cloak, and shrugged off the various robes. He lay down and slowed his breathing to match Tain's. His heart quietened till it seemed to Carnelian that the ship's pulse was his own. His feet managed to find their way to Tain's warm back. Tain moaned a protest but did not move away.

  It could only be the Empress Ykoriana that they spoke of with such dread.

  TRAPPED in AMBER

  The Categories of Concealment are: first, the offspring and the consorts of the Cod Emperor; second, the Ruling Lords of the Great and the Grand Sapients of the Wise; third, other Lords of the Great and the Ruling Lords of the Lesser Chosen; fourth, the remainder of the Chosen and the Wise; fifth, the ammonites of the Wise. The Protocol of Concealment states that those in a lower category must unmask whenever those in a higher category do so unless this contravenes the second Law of Concealment. The Categories of Seeing are: first, Lords of the Great and Ruling Lords of the Lesser Chosen; second, the remainder of the Chosen; third, a Lord's own household or the ammonites of the Wise; fourth, the household of another Lord; fifth, marumaga; sixth, all other creatures.

  The Categories of Punishment are: first, blinding; second, the addition of mutilation; third, the addition of flaying; fourth, the addition of capital crucifixion. At Chosen discretion, the third and fourth categories may be commuted to immediate destruction.

  The Laws of Concealment are: first, that the God Emperor must always remain concealed; second, that the number of a Category of Seeing determines the Category of Concealment in which concealment may be waived; third, that, for the Unchosen, a Category of Punishment is referenced according to how much the Category of Concealment exceeds the Category of Seeing.

  (extract from the Law-that-must-be-obeyed)

  The word fell like a stone into the water and rippled its black mirror. The sky was up there, far, far away, its bright disc like the moon in the night. Another word dropped into the well, cleaving deep into the water, trailing a churn and froth.

  'Land.' A muffled word. Carnelian came vaguely awake. 'Land.' He could hear the word clearly above the creaking of the ship, distinct from the dull thudding drum.

  He sat up in the blackness. The land, the land.'

  The words caused him to breathe again. Land. He fumbled blindly for clothes. He fought his way into something. His hands wandered till they touched feathers. He grabbed them, pulled them to his nose, smiling at the smell and feel of his feather cloak. It fell around him, comfortable, familiar. He opened the door. Land. T
hey had reached land at last. He stumbled up the stairway, throwing his arm up to shade his eyes from the high sun. He reached the deck, saw faces, walked round the mast. There, beyond the prow, was a blue horizon. His heart pounded against his ribs.

  His ears came alive as if he were coming up out of water. There were fearful cries and shouting. There was a man kneeling off to one side, staring at him, his mouth hanging open, his eyes unblinking. It was the captain. Carnelian could not understand that horrified stare. He looked round and saw sailors flattening on the deck. Aurum was there like a pillar of tar smoke, his face impassive gold. Guardsmen stood around him holding forked spears, their eyes hidden in the crooks of their arms.

  'Carnelian,' his father's voice called out.

  Carnelian was turning to find him when he heard Aurum say, 'Cover the Master.' He looked back and for an instant saw the face glowing white. Eyes like the heads of nails. Mouth a razor edge. Then it was gone as Aurum's slaves hid him with screens. The Master shifted behind their membranes like a god in a shadow play. A guardsman who knelt watching this, turned round with horror staring from his eyes. He held Aurum's mask out with stiff arms as if it were slaked with poison. Carnelian reached up to his face. His fingers found his cheeks, his nose, uncovered, naked. He masked himself with his hands and stared through the bars of his fingers as the guardsman crept towards him with the mask. Carnelian took its weight and put it quickly over his face. It was still warm and smelled of stale perfume. It was too long for him. He slid it down to peer through the eyeslits and held it there.

  'Carnelian,' said his father behind him. But Carnelian did not turn. Trapped behind the screens Aurum's shadow was scanning the deck. He lifted his arms.

  'Attend me,' he said over the sounds of fear. His guardsmen were reluctant to pull their heads from their hiding places. 'Attend me, I say.' A hint of impatience was in his voice. His men looked up, timid, hesitating. Through the screens their Master's hands were like cleavers, making chopping motions. The guardsmen turned where they pointed, lowering their spears. They looked as frightened as everyone else. Carnelian was surrounded by shaking bodies sobbing like children.

  'Spare only the captain,' said Aurum.

  A shriek became a gurgle as one of the sailors was suddenly impaled. Carnelian twitched as each body was skewered. Blood ran along the deck's grating and dribbled into the space below. Bleating broke out under their feet. The sweet smell of blood clotted the air. The guardsmen unstuck the sailors from the deck with kicks and threats. They forced them to drag the bleeding bodies to the gaps in the rail and throw them into the sea. Then they were ordered to kneel. Red to the elbows, with tears coursing down their faces, they urinated down their legs. Forked spears shoved into them making a sound of slicing cabbages. The guardsmen yanked the blades out then kicked their victims over the edge. They came back grim, the redness running down their spears to stain their hands. One slipped on the deck and fell. They clustered round the man who was still on his knees before Carnelian.

  'Stand back, my son,' his father said quietly beside him.

  Carnelian backed away. The man looked round at his companions as they closed on him. He looked up into the face of one of them: a youth, eyes bleary with tears. Carnelian could see the similarity in their faces. The man gave the youth a nod then bowed his head. The youth unsheathed a sword, his eyes huge and white, then he brought it down through the neck. It caught. He had to jerk the blade out. He seemed to be choking, but he managed to chop again. The head came loose and rolled drunkenly towards Carnelian's feet. The trunk sagged over onto one side, showing its meaty neck, spraying blood everywhere. The youth edged towards Carnelian with the dripping sword hanging from his hand. Carnelian prepared himself for the blow, almost welcoming it. He flinched as the youth looked up at him. Grief had cut stripes in the spatter of gore that was his face. It was a boy's face but hatred gave him the eyes of a man. He stooped, laid the sword on the deck, then lifted the head and cradled it as he moved away.

  Carnelian looked down at his cloak. He remembered he had given it to Tain. Its feathers were darkly matted with blood. His father walked past him towards the captain who was a huddle on the deck. He nudged the man with his foot. 'Clear the deck.' The huddle flinched. 'Now!'

  The man rose mumbling as he stared at the bloody deck.

  'You can have that cleaned later,' said Suth.

  The man stumbled off with horror printed on his face. Carnelian watched him mouthing orders. There was a taste of acid in his mouth. The stink of the blood mixed with the mask's. He gagged. All he could hear was the wind, the drum's relentless beat, the hiss of the oars.

  Carnelian watched Aurum come out from behind the screens. He had expected anger but there was only contempt on the Master's face. 'You stupid boy.' Aurum reached out and snatched his mask from Carnelian's grip. It had been like a shell. Carnelian blinked, exposed. The smell of death and Aurum's sneer were all the world. 'Look at this mess.'

  'Do not be too hard on the boy, my Lord,' his father said. Carnelian heard something like pleading in his father's voice.

  'I have lost one of my tyadra, Sardian,' said Aurum.

  'I shall give you his worth or a replacement.'

  'And can you also replace the sailors upon which this vessel so much depends?'

  Carnelian watched his father's head drop a little. Then Aurum turned on him. 'How do you explain this, boy?'

  Carnelian shook his head.

  'I knew you were provincial, callow, but I did not think to add stupid.'

  'You will leave him be,' Suth said.

  'And what will you do, Sardian, if I do not?'

  Carnelian waited for his father to confront the old Master in his defence, but once more his father dropped his head and said nothing.

  Aurum stood with his legs planted wide like a conqueror. 'I shall go now to ready what people I have left. See if you can find a way to keep your son under some measure of control.' He put his mask up and strode away.

  Carnelian turned to his father, red with shame. 'My Lord—'

  'It is my fault, Carnelian. I had thought you better trained. I blame myself.' 'But—'

  'You will stay here, my Lord, until Tain shall come with your mask. After that you will return to your cabin and remain there until I give you leave to come out.'

  Carnelian hung his head. 'Yes, my Lord.'

  He heard his father move away. Feathers were sticking to his chin. Their smell was sweetened by the crusting blood. Carnelian lurched to the rail from where his stomach pumped vomit out over the threshing oars.

  Tain came up with the mask. Carnelian watched his brother eye the bloody deck. 'We heard the noises ... below.' His face was pale. 'Why did it happen?' he whispered.

  Carnelian looked down at his hands. 'It was my fault, Tain. I forgot to wear my mask.' He could feel his brother's eyes. He looked up but could not read their expression. Was it pity? He took the mask from him and put it on. He was glad to have it to hide behind. Through the eyeslits, he watched Tain regard the deck as if it were something dangerous.

  'Look, there's the land,' Carnelian said, to wrench his brother's eyes from the blood. He took some steps towards the prow. His foot slipped. 'You'll see it better from here,' he called back. He felt that Tain had not moved. He turned. Tain was still there, looking very small.

  'I can see it well enough from here, Carnie.'

  Carnelian nodded, returned defeated.

  In the cabin they stripped him to the skin. Carnelian bundled everything into the feathered cloak, thrust it into Tain's hands and told him to go and throw it in the sea.

  Tain packed quietly. They had said nothing to each other since he had returned without the bloody bundle. Carnelian woke Crail and told him that he would have to start thinking of getting ready. Then he tried to help Tain. Each time their hands touched Tain flinched as if he were being burned.

  There was a knock on the door. It was Keal, grim, haggard. The Master's sent me to escort you up on deck. He wants to ta
lk to you.'

  Carnelian's stomach churned. ‘I’ll be ready in a moment.' He asked Tain to touch up the paint on his face and hands. He shook out his black cloak and put it on. He took the mask from Tain's hands, thanking him, and grimaced. The smell of blood was still on his fingers.

  He followed Keal up the stairway. When he reached the top, he closed his eyes, sucked some deep breaths through the mouth of his mask, then stepped out onto the deck.

  Slaves were scrubbing the grating. A path through the blood had already been cleaned from the stairway to the prow. There Carnelian saw the huge rectangle of his father's back among the smaller shapes of their guardsmen. Carnelian followed Keal along the path. His father turned as they approached. His mask lent him a cruel look. He moved to one side and the guardsmen cleared a way. 'Come, stand beside me, my Lord.'

  Carnelian moved into the space and immediately their men formed a wall of screens that separated them from the rest of the ship. His father reached up to unfasten his mask. Carnelian's hand shook as he was forced by protocol to do the same.

  His father's grey eyes fell on him. 'How are you feeling, my son?'

  Carnelian forced back the tears. He was no longer a child.

  Suth reached out and touched Carnelian's cheek. 'You will have to get used to death. Perhaps I have erred to keep you so shielded from it these long years. The Chosen are great dealers in death. You would have found this out in Osrakum had you been raised there. I fear you have acquired an unnatural sensitivity to it.'

  Suth looked out across the sea. Carnelian followed his gaze. He let the strain out and it saddened his face. A blue wall of cliffs had risen before them that edged the whole horizon. The wind washed him. It squeezed some tears out of the corners of his eyes and ran them back along his head to his ears.

  'Behold,' said Suth. He was careful not to look at his son lest he should weaken the boy's self-control. 'Behold the shore of the province of Naralan, the edge of the Three Lands.' He shook his head slowly as if he did not believe what he saw. 'Once you set foot upon her brim, Carnelian, your life will be forever changed. You cannot know, my son, who and what you are. It is not your fault. It will come slowly at first. You will see such beauty, and such terror, but the wonders.' He sighed the last word. 'Such wonders as not even your mind's eye has beheld.'