This quarter hasn't been used in a while,' said Carnelian, trying to hide his disappointment. He would not let Fey kneel.
Fey grimaced as she looked round her. These were some of the halls of the third lineage, Master. They now occupy the quarter traditionally belonging to the second, who—'
'Who now occupy my father's halls,' said Carnelian heavily.
Fey cringed a little, as if she were expecting a blow.
'As you said, Fey, there've been changes.'
Fey went over to one of the withered trees, touched its plug of soil, shook her head. This shouldn't have been allowed.' She looked back at Carnelian. 'You must believe that I did everything I could, Master.'
Carnelian walked up to Fey and put his arm round her shoulders. The woman went so stiff that Carnelian immediately pulled his arm away. 'I do believe you. Now come on, show me where I can wash away this paint.'
They walked together round several more courtyards till they came to an echoing suite of chambers whose lofty vermilion walls were mosaiced with slender waving lilies and soaring birds.
'For one night, perhaps, these chambers'll be adequate for the Master,' said Fey, opening tall blue rectangles of sky in a faraway wall.
Narrowing his eyes against the glare, Carnelian crossed the marble mirror floor. He stood beside Fey in the flooding sunlight. Below, a pebbled cove smeared its green into the azure of the Skymere. Further off was the fiery emerald vision of the Yden and the Pillar of Heaven towering up from its heart. Carnelian closed his eyes and drew in the perfume of Osrakum. 'Miraculous,' he sighed.
When he opened his eyes Fey was smiling at him. 'You are like your father, Master.'
Carnelian felt a twinge of guilt as he looked at the barrow of the Labyrinth mounding up from the Yden. How could he feel joy when his father might be there, somewhere, dead?
Fey saw his frown. To wash you'll need slaves, Master. I'll send them to attend you, and to clean up this mess. If the Master'd allow me to guide him ...' She waited to see him move, then bustled out through another door.
Carnelian followed her on a long walk to a chamber of yellow marble. One whole wall was so thin that it glowed as it filtered daylight.
'It's like being inside a sea shell,' Carnelian said in delight.
Fey walked to the door. 'I'll go and fetch body slaves.' Carnelian touched her arm. 'I'd rather be alone.' Fey looked startled. 'But who'll wash you, Master?' The Master'll wash himself.'
Fey's eyebrows lifted and creased her brow. 'As the Master wishes, so shall it be done.'
As Carnelian slipped the damp robe off, something cracked to the floor. Crouching, he picked it up. It was the jade pebble. He frowned when he saw that its spiral had cracked in two. He put the pieces inside the hollow of his mask and put that face down on the robe. He went to the water wall and fiddled with the golden sluices set into its channels. At last he managed to braid the water into a single splashing waterfall. He gasped as he slid into its envelope, tensing in the cold. It roared over his head. The paint leached away down his legs. The water pooling round his feet was like milk, but soon ran clear.
At HOME
A rose watched withering
Waits forgotten In this forbidden house
Youth's blush frowned grey
Perfume faded Left only her thorns
(from the poem 'Beyond the Siltter Door' by the Lady Akaya)
Although the pillar of heaven was already crowned with gold, the twilight was only thinning at its feet. Osrakum still slept. The narrow arc of the crater's faraway wall was still black. Only its glowing edge showed where the sun was beginning to set the sky alight. The lake was cataracted with mist. The Yden was grey. Carnelian inhaled sweet vaporous morning. He rubbed his cheek on the blanket. Its humming-bird feathers bristled and changed colour along the folds. He had climbed out onto the roof. His sleep had been troubled and that first gleam on the Pillar and the paling sky had drawn him with the hope of a new day.
The indigo above was growing blue. Carnelian looked
south-west to where a mountainous buttress of the Sacred Wall hid the next coomb. He followed the wall's sweep round to the Valley of the Gate. There he watched turquoise begin to seep into the edge of the lake as if the colour were flooding out from the valley. The brightening crept across the lake to the Ydenrim and then up to reveal emeralds sparked with amber. Sunrise now lit the Pillar to its foot and speared its shadow back across the lake. Fire spread over the Labyrinth mound, caught on the flank of the Plain of Thrones. The sun's disc melting up from the Sacred Wall forced him to quit the roof for fear of it tainting his skin with its gold.
Carnelian grew solemn as he climbed back into the chamber. Today he would have to face his kin. The smell of sleep was coming off his body, but he did not feel like braving a shivering waterfall. Besides, the day's meetings were bound to require a formal cleansing and that required servants. He looked round for something to throw on. He wandered through several chambers but they were empty of everything but the echoes of his footfalls. Eventually he was forced to return to the small chamber in which he had slept in preference to the vast bedchamber Fey had given him. He removed the broken pieces of the jade spiral from inside his mask. When he lifted the hollow face he saw the letter that had been put under it. He stared at the perfectly folded, creamy rectangle. He picked it up and smelled its rich waft of attar of roses. Its wax seal bore the circular impression of a blood-ring. He broke it open. The parchment had only two panels. At first the glyphs looked strange. They were unlike the ones he or his father would make. He used the faces to gauge the differences in the style as his father had taught him. Soon the pictures were forming the sounds in his mind.
Sardian, you are returned. Your mother's eyes are impatient to behold you though they have so patiently waited out the years. Come, mount the steps. There is much that you must know.
He looked again at the ring of glyphs and numbers in the wax. It was as he had thought. There beside the Suth chameleon was the glyph 'Urquentha', his grandmother's name. He frowned. What had made her think that he was his father? He read it again then, folding it carefully, tucked it into the mask. He picked up the green robe. Its odour of lilies made him hurl it into a corner. Instead, he secured the feather blanket round his waist, picked up the mask and walked off to open the outer door.
A procession of pillars held back the shadow from an avenue that led off to a vague archway. He stopped to listen. Only birdsong embroidered the silence. He stepped into the hall, spreading his foot down over cool stone. He walked towards the grey courtyard.
When he reached its edge he looked across its fish-scale cobbles to the distant gates. The raised portico running round it was still in darkness. A flight of steps that led down to the cobbles was flanked by tripod urns of mossy bronze. He noticed a figure hunched on the end of one of the steps and padded towards it. When he was near he stretched out and touched it lightly on the shoulder.
The figure jumped to its feet and whisked round.
'Master ...' it gulped. It was Fey, eyes wide, her hand pressed over her chest.
'Forgive me, I didn't mean to startle you,' said Carnelian.
Fey shook her head, panting, made uncomfortable by the apology and the glare of so much white skin. 'Master, I was waiting for you. I've taken the liberty of having some breakfast prepared.' She indicated a low table set between two columns, overlooking the courtyard. 'I've also sent for servants of all the different kinds so that the Master might choose a household for himself.'
'My own people will form my household.'
She darted a look of hope at him. 'Did you bring them all back with you, Master?'
Carnelian remembered his people blanketing the quay as he sailed away. The memory seemed from someone else's childhood. As he shook his head free of it, he noticed Fey looking at him anxiously. He smoothed his frown and even found a smile. 'We were forced to leave most of them behind. Ships will already have been sent to fetch them.'
'Shi
ps ... ?' Fey stared off as if she could see their sails tiny in the distance.
Carnelian frowned. 'Are you telling me that you didn't know where we were?'
Fey pulled her eyes back into focus. There were rumours, Master.'
Carnelian pondered this.
Those you did bring with you, Master, will take more than thirty days to come through the quarantine. Until they come through ...'
Carnelian thought of Tain, frightened and alone, arid of Keal and the others somewhere coming up the long, long road from the sea.
Fey gave an uncertain smile as she again indicated the breakfast table. 'I'm getting old and foolish, Master. I should've brought servants, garments .. .' She looked confused. 'I don't really know what I'm doing.' Her eyes dropped to her feet.
'Did you want to talk to me, Fey?' When the woman looked up at him he could see her need for news. He walked round her towards the table. 'It was thoughtful of you to arrange this. I'd very much like to break my fast while the air's still cool.'
He stood in front of the table. The dishes and bowls seemed to inlay the table like jewels. He thought of his people on the island, abandoned to famine. Fey moved a stool and he sank cross-legged onto it, putting his mask down carefully on the floor. Fey knelt beside him and began to serve the food. Carnelian put a hand on her arm to stop her. This is beneath you ... aunt.'
She ducked her head to hide a blush. 'You're the son of ... of the Ruling Lord,' she said through her hair. 'Nothing that I can do for you is beneath me.'
Then you'll eat with me.'
Fey looked up with her mouth hanging open.
There's no point in looking like that,' said Carnelian, trying to make her smile. 'It'll give me no pleasure to eat while you fuss around me. I'm not used to it.'
Fey looked at him as if she could not understand what he was saying.
'Sit there,' Carnelian said gently. 'I'd like your company.' He looked away when the woman awkwardly sat down, trying to save her more embarrassment. Carnelian picked up a box, opened it and offered it to her. Fey took one of the thin discs of bread as if she were being offered poison.
'Where will my father be now, Fey?'
'But, Master, you told me yourself that he was with the Wise.'
'Yes, but where would they have taken him?' To the Isle.'
The God Emperor ... he's gone to see the God Emperor.'
Fey made the sign of the horns and ducked an obeisance. The Gods are in the Sky.' She gazed up between the columns.
Carnelian frowned, not sure what to make of the awe on her face. 'In the Sky?'
Fey came back to earth as she looked at him. The Master'll have climbed the Pillar. . . the Gods've gone up there to the Halls of Thunder, as your brethren, the other Masters of this House, have gone up to the Eyries.'
'You have my father's eyes,' said Carnelian.
Fey turned away as if trying to hide them from him. The better half of me is sister to the Master.'
'He told me to trust you.' . The words put tears in Fey's eyes. She dabbed at them. 'Please, Master, where's Brin?'
'Your sister had to be left behind.'
Fey's mouth twitched. 'Crail? He must be an old man by now?'
Carnelian looked down at his food, trying to find the words. He lifted his head. 'He's dead.'
Fey's face crumpled. She snatched a glimpse at his eyes. 'Grane?'
'We had to leave most of them ...'
Carnelian could see by her face that she saw something of the conditions in which they had been left. She nodded slowly. 'Ebeny too?'
'She wouldn't come,' said Carnelian, biting his lip, hearing his voice betraying pain.
'Her boys, Master?'
'Keal's on the road, coming here. Tain's in the quarantine.' 'With others?'
Carnelian shook his head. Fey lifted a bowl of filigreed turquoise and offered Carnelian its peaches. Carnelian took a fruit, bit into it. He was vaguely aware of its sweetness.
'Our orchards are famous,' said Fey.
Carnelian looked at her and then the fruit. 'Yes ... it is delicious.' He put it down. Fey lifted a ewer and poured water over his hands to clean them. Carnelian watched her put it down on its three legs. Each had a human form. Carnelian ran his finger over one of them.
'A Quyan piece, Master, and very rare,' said Fey.
'I promised my people that I'd make this place ready to welcome them,' said Carnelian. There won't be any problems, will there?'
She stretched a smile over her lips.
The other lineages resent my return?'
Fey looked at her hands.
'I see that they do.'
She looked up. Her face in anger was so like his father's that Carnelian started. 'It's not their place to resent you, Master. If you demand the Seal, they'll have to give it to you.'
She clapped her hand over her mouth. Carnelian could see her eyes expecting punishment. He gently peeled her hand off and squeezed it. 'You've not spoken out of turn.'
She frowned and regarded him as if he were a creature come alive out of a story.
'Please, tell me about the Seal,' he said.
Her eyebrows showed a flicker of surprise. 'Whoever holds it rules this coomb.'
'But my father...' Carnelian thought about it. 'It controls all our wealth?'
Fey gave a slow nod.
Carnelian suddenly understood something of the poverty of the Hold. 'But why did he leave it behind?' 'Without it here the coomb wouldn't work.'
'And you're trying to tell me that my father left all this power in the hands of the second lineage?'
Fey compressed her lips, shook her head erratically. 'Fey...?'
The Master left it with the Mistress.'
'You mean my grandmother?'
The Lady Urquentha,' said Fey, using the Quya.
Carnelian frowned. 'I have a letter from her.' He watched Fey go yellow as she dug her chin into her chest. 'What's the matter, Fey?'
Fey would not look up at him. She jerked back from the table, slapped her hands down on the floor and cracked her forehead down between them. Her abject prostration spiked Carnelian with anger.
'Get up, woman.'
Fey looked up with blood smearing above her eyes.
Carnelian winced. 'Look what you've done to yourself.' He reached up but she pulled away. He dug the letter out of his mask and held it up. This isn't for me, Fey, but for my father.'
The Mistress must've received garbled news, Master ... the forbidden house ... it's closed against the world ... she's not allowed to see anyone ...'
Carnelian examined her eyes as she rambled. 'Fey, what's the matter? Why are you so frightened?'
She hid her face again. He was trying to think what he could do when a deep clanging made them both look across the courtyard to its gate.
'By your leave, Master.'
He jerked a nod.
Fey rose and fled down the steps. Carnelian watched her recede. The sun was painting colour into the porticoes on his left. Friezes carved into the lintels animated their crowds of marble in the morning sun. A pyramid rose behind from which faces stared out. Beyond it was the striped green sky of the Sacred Wall.
Fey was labouring back towards him looking flushed and distressed. The Masters come.'
The second lineage? Down here?'
She gulped. 'Yes, Master.'
Carnelian's heart sank. 'Here?' He looked at the courtyard with its dead trees and then down at his body wrapped only in the blanket of feathers.
Fey shook her head. The Masters'll want to meet you on neutral territory ... probably the Great Hall of Columns.'
Carnelian spread his arms and grinned. 'Shall I go dressed like this?'
She managed a smile. 'By the time we're finished, Master, you'll look like an angel.'
In a chrysalis chamber he stood naked while they painted him with camphor. Its evaporation was like drizzling quicksilver. Fey supervised the shaving of his head and then the polishing of unguents into his skin. In their shimmering
perfume, Carnelian outshone the glowing circuit of the alabaster wall.
Inner robes swam through the air as lazily as jellyfish to engulf him. Layer after layer the robes grew heavier, the threads of their weaving more discernible, although the cloth was still so delicate that it would not hold folds but only, and temporarily, flakes of light.
'Do we really need more robes?' he said at last.
Fey looked horrified. The Master must put on an outer robe.' She clapped her hand to have them paraded. Each was carried by two servants like an elaborate piece of furniture. Some were panelled brilliantly with feathers. Others were sculpted into ridges of brocade up whose slopes climbed ladders of ivory and spinelled jewels. In honour of his father, he chose a sombre one of raven plumage flecked with bird-eye opals. His father's ring burned against his chest where he had hung it on a chain.
Fey had them bring Carnelian masks so fine that it seemed as if he held nothing but sunlight in his hands. He chose one whose face might have been stolen from a boy gazing out over a summer sea. Fey nodded her approval as they bound it on.
She surveyed her work proudly. 'All that is needed now is a crown.'
'A crown?' Carnelian's exasperation vibrated the gold skin of his new mask. 'I broil and the woman wants me to wear a crown.'
'You must wear a crown, Master, when you meet them.'
His head drooped. He had almost managed to forget the meeting with the Masters. He brooded as crowns were shown to him, many-tiered, like houses or ships, inlaid with precious leathers, haloed, startling with iridescing feather fans. He would have none of them. He overruled Fey and settled for a simple diadem of black jade. She herself climbed on a stool to put it on his head.
'Beware the father,' she whispered in Quya and then stepped down.
Carnelian thought to ask her what she meant but he saw the servants all around them. Thank you,' he rumbled and they all fell flat upon the floor.
The Chosen - Stone Dance of the Chameleon 01 Page 33
