The Chosen - Stone Dance of the Chameleon 01

by Ricardo Pinto

  The lictors of the Ichorian Legion, shadows of He-who-goes-before.'

  Carnelian looked up at their standards. The rayed eye of the sun was surmounted on one by the lily and on the other by the pomegranate, both wrought with emberous stones. The guardsmen were rising around him. All had the fruit embossed on their cuirasses, halved to show its bellyful of seeds. All had the half-black faces of the Ichorians.

  As the bier began to move, Carnelian walked beside it. He looked over the helmets down the widening valley and his eyes threatened to burst the limit of their sockets. His chest ceased rising so that he could not breathe. He feasted on the blue, richer than any sky, till he began to fear that his eyes might forever lose their ability to see that colour. He forced his gaze to follow a strand across the water. This swelled into a triangle that attached itself like a handle to a vast green-mottled mirror. No bowl of jade held up to the sun had ever filtered such emerald. Jutting into this region was an island, a turquoise ridge that swept up into a narrow peak. Beyond lay more of the lake's blue, the colour faded enough by distance and molten air to no longer hurt his eyes. Round the outer shore of this sea was a purple vapour of mountains that the wind might have streamed out in an arc from its mouth to wall this heaven in.

  Carnelian remembered to breathe. He gulped the crystal air. It was a perfume of such richness that he had to close his eyes else be overwhelmed. One breath, another. He strained to hold its vibrant burn in his lungs and felt it swell him like a bud to flowering. He stumbled and felt a hand supporting him.

  'My Lord?'

  Carnelian gasped his eyes open. A face like a golden apple. A Master's mask. Jaspar. 'You reel, my Lord.'

  The ... the air —' Carnelian managed to say.

  'You mean the smoke,' Jaspar said, laughing like a child, indicating with his head the way they had come.

  Carnelian wrenched his head round. The pleated stone of the Black Gate concertinaed between the hands of the Sacred Wall.

  The ammonites used lotus smoke to free our minds, to detach them from the bodies that had to be ... shall we say, intrusively cleansed. Enjoy your flight; soon mind and body will be reunited.'

  Preoccupied with breathing and walking, Carnelian hardly heard him. The air,' he sighed, 'the perfumed air.'

  Jaspar breathed deep through his mask. The exhalation of thrice-blessed Osrakum. This air ... it is unfouled by the lungs of the creatures beyond our mountain wall.'

  'Like ... like ... like breathing the sky,' said Carnelian. Two new bells were tolling together in the Black Gate. He looked back over his shoulder at the wall. Those bells...?'

  'Announce the entry of four Lords of blood-rank two. Those chimes tell Osrakum that we are here.'

  A deeper voice rang out. Carnelian felt it coming up from the ground, vibrating him, then fading enough to free his feeble heart to beat again.

  The bell for He-who-goes-before,' said Jaspar as Carnelian fought the intoxication of the air.

  Kerbs contained the river of the road. Beyond, hexagons pushed up giant stairways, raised tables and dikes, or speared skyward their shafts tipped with angels. In places columns were formed wholly of angels standing one upon the other. Angels? He concentrated. Not angels, but the host of the Quyans turned to stone. He tried to make out their battle-lines but was distracted. Through the thicketing knuckled stone, he glimpsed the indentations in the crater wall burning like shards of jewel-stained glass.

  The valley widened its sky-seeking walls and Carnelian noticed that every stone Quyan had two faces. The one gazing back up at the Black Gate was joyful, but the other looked grieving down towards the lake. Following that gaze he was snared again by the blue addiction of the water. His heart trembled when his eyes touched the Isle with its single peak for he knew that somewhere, melted into that vision, was the house of the Gods, the Labyrinth.

  Their Ichorian escort formed a wall that Aurum breached and walked through. Further down the road, Carnelian could see a silver house. Tarnished, windowless, eyed with stars, nail-gouged with moons. Doors opened in its grey side and a procession came out pushing glittering crescents aloft on poles. Rising behind them was a spindle figure walking with the aid of a staff whom a child was leading by the hand. The pair came up the road fringed by standard-bearers. Aurum met them and gave a curt bow. Carnelian was made uneasy when he saw that the purple figure with the child was more than a head taller than the old Master.

  Aurum came back, bringing with him the child, the purple figure and their procession. For a moment all were absorbed into the Ichorians so that Carnelian could see only the silver crescents waving in the air. The child emerged from the guardsmen first, leading the purple being whose face was a long oblong of silver. The right eye was just a crease. The left eye seemed to be cataracted with ice and spilled tears down the silver cheek. From the mask's brow a crescent moon curved up like horns.

  As this apparition poled its staff towards him Carnelian withstood a compulsion to hide. He looked sidelong at the child. It had the body of a boy but the wrinkled face, the eyes, the thin compressed lips of an old man. Carnelian watched this homunculus release the hand of the apparition, take the staff and, with both hands, plant it with a clack before them both. The apparition peeled off gloves to reveal hands so pale they seemed hollow alabaster. Each middle finger and knuckle had been removed so that neither hand could help making the sign of the horns. The hands articulated sinuously as if they had been boned like fish. The homunculus reached round and with a practised movement took first one and then the other, forming them into a loose collar of fingers around its throat. The fingers coiled, interlinking around its larynx, and then began to flex.

  'We are not used to being kept waiting,' the homunculus said. Its voice was high, beautiful but unhuman.

  Carnelian stared at the fingers playing the throat like a flute.

  ‘Seraphim, you have gone beyond the bounds we permitted you in the outer world.'

  Vennel came forward, nodding a bow, his hands making the vague shape of surprise. 'You have come yourself, Grand Sapience, from the sickbed of...'

  As he spoke the homunculus muttered an echo to his words.

  'I wish to wash my hands of all responsibility.'

  The homunculus was repeating those words when the fingers at its throat choked it quiet. They trembled more instructions into its neck and it said, 'Seraph, the Empress expects your immediate attendance at court.'

  Vennel bowed lower.

  Carnelian looked up at the tearful silver face. This was one of the Wise. He was trying not to imagine what kind of face the mask concealed when the cloven hands turned the homunculus' head towards him. Carnelian felt it was not the homunculus but its master that was scrutinizing him through its eyes. As the fingers shifted at its throat, Carnelian winced, seeming to feel their movement inside his head.

  'You are that son of Suth for whom we recently made a blood-ring?'

  'Suth Carnelian.' The words were squeezed out of his brain like pips from a lemon.

  The homunculus repeated the two words. Its finger collar flexed. The homunculus pointed at the bier. 'It is the Ruling Seraph of your House that lies there?'

  Carnelian nodded eagerly. One of the cloven hands detached itself from the homunculus' throat and blurred pale instructions. Ammonites swarmed forward and the Ichorians moved away from the bier as if they feared even the touch of their shadows. Their purple robes huddled over Suth, producing many fingers that they touched to his neck, his wrists, his chest. They began rattling out words. 'Pulse. Five. Soft. Tallow threefold. Lipped blade. Two by three deep.'

  The homunculus echoed everything they said.

  Carnelian found his eyes drawn to the finial on the staff it held. A limpid green jewel larger than his hand carved into the form of a man who wore upon his head a crescent like the blade of a silver sickle.

  The ammonites straightened, silent, waiting, looking to the Grand Sapient.

  'Salve edge, blue vapouring, soft white bind,' the homuncu
lus said.

  The ammonites opened boxes, unstoppered vials, pulled lengths of cloth and bent over Suth as if they were carpenters repairing furniture.

  'Seraphic Aurum,' said the homunculus, 'it is your disregard for the Law that has imperilled this life.'

  'I told him—' Vennel began.

  The homunculus spoke over him. This matter will be examined fully.'

  Aurum stood very still. 'Will he live?'

  Carnelian held his breath. Vermel's mask inclined so that it was focused wholly on the homunculus' mouth.

  'Perhaps,' it said after a pause. 'We shall bend our skills towards the healing. We must haste back to the Isle where we have the requisite resources.'

  'It is customary for He-who-goes-before to seek formal ratification in the Clave before he should begin his duties,' said Vennel quickly.

  'Does my Lord wish the Ruling Lord Suth dead?' said Jaspar over the homunculus' muttering.

  'Custom is not Law,' it said.

  Then I shall accompany the Ruling Lord on my way to court,' said Vennel. 'As you wish.'

  Sapient Immortality's hands uncoiled free of his homunculus' neck.

  Carnelian took a step forward. 'Sapience ...'

  The homunculus reached up to touch the retreating hands. They slipped back around its muttering throat. 'Proceed.'

  Carnelian stared at the long mirror face, swallowed. 'Is there not a risk that my father will die unless you heal him now?'

  'Do you presume to greater wisdom than the Wise?' the homunculus said severely.

  Carnelian was unable to respond.

  'Good, then we shall proceed to the Labyrinth.'

  'I won't go with you,' said Carnelian, lapsing into Vulgate.

  Aurum whisked round. 'Why will you not, my Lord?'

  Carnelian closed his eyes to find composure. 'I wish to go to my own coomb, my Lord.'

  'You would desert your father?'

  Carnelian looked at the old Master. 'I would follow his command.'

  'This command must have been given you some time ago. Much has changed since then, my Lord.' 'Nevertheless.'

  This is outrageous. Immortality, you must stop this.'

  The matter does not concern us,' said the homunculus.

  Aurum's mask bore down on Carnelian but he refused even to flinch. The Master swung round on Jaspar. 'Since it seems Suth Carnelian's mind is made up perhaps my Lord would condescend to accompany him.'

  Jaspar snorted. 'And why pray should one wish to do that?'

  'Because you would find me grateful.'

  Jaspar turned to Carnelian, saying loudly, The gratitude of House Aurum is a prize to be devoudy desired, neh? One's coomb is near your own, cousin, so there would be only a little inconvenience. Besides, we might even manage to amuse each other on the way.'

  Carnelian was in no mood to be amused or to oblige either Master, but nor did he want to be left alone in this strange new world. He lifted his hand in agreement.

  Jaspar held Carnelian back when he made to move towards his father. Carnelian shoved his arm away.

  Jaspar flared his palms. 'You misunderstand, my Lord. Our way lies along a different road.'

  'But I thought...' Carnelian's resolve crumbled. He had not expected to have to part from his father so soon.

  Aurum turned towards Jaspar. 'My Lord, your father must come to the Labyrinth immediately to represent his faction.'

  That will not be possible. The Lord Imago will take several days to prepare himself.' He waved a vague gesture. 'One will have to inform him of our ... our mission, a household will have to be readied to accompany him.' He sighed. 'My Lord knows well what tedious arrangements one is required to make before planning even the briefest sojourn at court.'

  'Make sure that he is there in three days,' said Aurum and turned away.

  'My Lord Aurum?' said Carnelian.

  The Master turned back.

  'Will you send me word if my father improves, or if he were to .. . ?'

  Aurum's hand snapped agreement, and he strode away.

  Carnelian knelt at his father's side. He glanced at the metal face and then found the hand and cursed his mask that stopped him kissing it. He stood back as the bier was lifted and mournfully watched it move away with the Grand Sapient, the Masters and the others.

  'Alas,' said Jaspar beside him.

  Carnelian turned to him, surprised. 'You share my pain to see them go?'

  Jaspar laughed. 'On the contrary, it is a blessed relief. One was bemoaning the necessity of more walking. It is customary to send ahead to one's coomb for suitable transport and an escort of one's tyadra.' He pretended to look around him. 'As you can see, cousin, we shall have neither convenience.'

  The Master's flippancy angered Carnelian. 'We will get nowhere unless we move on.'

  Carnelian looked for his father and was dismayed to see him being carried into the silver house. A protest was on his tongue when the whole edifice lurched into movement and he noticed its skirting of wheels and realized it was a chariot. The thought of his father locked inside with the Sapient and the homunculus made him shudder.

  'Will the Wise heal him, Jaspar?'

  'Grand Sapient Immortality is guardian to all the lore of his Domain. Short of divine intervention there is no power in all the lands that can do more for the Ruling Lord Suth than he.'

  Fearing hope would unman him, Carnelian said quickly, 'Which is our road?'

  Jaspar pointed down an avenue running towards the lake.

  Carnelian saw the silver chariot veering off to the right, disappearing into the forest of stone.

  'Our road is the straighten' Jaspar sauntered off.

  Carnelian watched the last silver panel of the chariot wink out and almost ran after it. He felt as trapped as the Quyans in their stone. Their dimple eyes saw through his flesh. They mobbed the road all the way down to the lake. He strode after the only companion he had left, his enemy, Jaspar.

  'Curse the sun, it makes me sweat!' growled Jaspar.

  Carnelian threw a fold of his robe over his head to stop his mask heating. A sun ray had split his head in two. He squinted past the ache. Ahead there was something like a burning barricade set across the road. He was sure that he could feel its waves of heat beating against him. Soon he saw that its flames were formed by a hillside of carved and gilded columns. The road divided to run round them and edging one fork there was a narrow rind of shadow.

  They made for this shadow and stopped to rest, pressing their backs against the cool gilded stone. The air still burned Carnelian's lungs. His robe clung to him. He pinched some of the cloth to peel it off his skin and wafted it. Jaspar was panting.

  Carnelian turned to the column he had been leaning against and saw that it was the shins of a narrow Lord. Hundreds more crowded up the slope. The carving was unlike the angels. It was sharp and fresh and the curving golden limbs seemed almost alive.

  The Clave,' said Jaspar, looking at Carnelian. He drooped his head and flapped his hands at it like fans.

  'Where the Great... meet?' said Carnelian.

  They walked round rubbing against the cool legs of the golden crowd, keeping in their delicious shadow. They came to where a stair of snowy marble wound up between the giants.

  'Is it cool up there?' Carnelian asked.

  Jaspar shook his head. The Clave is a bowl in which we meet only when the sun is behind the Sacred Wall or sometimes at night. Now, it will be incandescent.'

  They passed several more stairs before they reached the shadow's end. 'One longs to linger here, but alas we must go on ... it should be cooler by the lake.'

  Carnelian watched Jaspar stand there for some moments as if he were gathering up his courage, then the Master pushed forward and was burned up in the glare.

  Jaspar swung the bronze clapper on its ropes. Then the heart-stone bell seemed the only stillness in a trembling world. Carnelian did not hear it peal. He had lost every sense but sight. The Pillar of Heaven was there, a filament from the Singing Turt
le's heart, where it had been since the creation, a mountain holding up the immense weight of the sky. The Sacred Wall was set about its axle like the rim of a wheel. Around the Pillar spread the terraces and water meadows of the Yden, the Gods' own Forbidden Garden floating in the midst of the Skymere.

  They come,' a voice said remotely in his ear, waking him.

  Carnelian followed Jaspar's pointing finger and saw a needle detach itself from the Yden's rim and darn a white stitch into the perfect sapphire of the lake.

  'We shall wait up here in the shade,' said Jaspar.

  Carnelian looked down the flight of steps that fell precipitously to the water's edge. Carvings of stone flanked it all the way. He put his hand out to touch the nearest one, in whose shadow they sheltered. The flow of years had smoothed it but still he could see it was a turtle. He looked out across the lake, daring to be possessed again. He ran his eyes round the outer wall of the crater like a finger round a bowl. All along its purpling length it pleated like cloth and in the folds jewelled fragments lodged, the coombs of the Chosen.

  Carnelian's eyes settled back to the mirrors of the Yden and the strip of earth that moored it to the cliff upon which he stood. There along that causeway a fleck of light caught in his eye. It glinted again like a signal. He lifted his hand out as if he would pluck it from the distance.

  The Grand Sapient's chariot,' said Jaspar even as Carnelian had guessed what it was.

  'My father ...'

  'With Aurum fretting,' said Jaspar and Carnelian could hear the smile in his voice. 'And our dear Lord Vennel.' He chuckled. 'One does not envy him the meeting with his mistress.'

  Thoughts of his father brought back Carnelian's headache. He waited for each tiny flicker as if he could read some message in it. He narrowed his eyes to examine the causeway. It looked like nothing much except that it was a road across the Skymere, a lake deeper than the sky. Mountains had been crumbled and fed into that lake so that chariots could roll their wheels across its water. 'Sartlar numberless as leaves ...'

  'My Lord?' said Jaspar.

  Carnelian looked at him. 'Something my father once told me about the building of that road.'