Carnelian was glad he had not told her that Ebeny had given him her Little Mother to keep him safe on his journey to Osrakum.
‘All Plainswomen have these from their mothers,’ she said, slumping down on to a root.
Carnelian shared her bitter disappointment. ‘I can think of nothing more.’ He sat down beside her, resting his chin in his hand. Something occurred to him. ‘This woman –’
‘My sister.’
‘Did you send other girls that year?’
Akaisha looked at him with hope. ‘She was the only one. The other four were boys.’
Carnelian controlled his excitement. He showed her his palm. ‘Do you remember her tattoo?’ He almost groaned when he saw Akaisha’s expression of strain.
‘If I drew it for you?’
‘Perhaps.’
Carnelian searched around for something to write on. ‘Mud,’ he said at last.
She understood and led him down to the path running alongside what she told him was the Homeditch.
‘Wait here,’ she said. She found a path down into the ditch and had soon disappeared into its gloomy depths. He waited and then she returned cradling a pool of muddy water in her hands. She found a piece of ground still bathed in the last red light of day. He cleared it of needles and she poured the water over it. Crouching, Carnelian smoothed the mud and carefully drew out the glyphs Ebeny had on her hand: Eight Nuhuron. He drew back to allow Akaisha to have a look. He chewed his lip as she peered at it. At last she turned to him, nodding, a look of almost girlish wonder on her face.
‘It is the same.’
She looked away towards the scarlet horizon. The east wind made her salt earrings clink. When she turned back she was frowning.
‘When the Assembly voted, most of the men and some of the women voted for your deaths.’
‘Mother Harth?’
‘She will never forgive the killing of her son. I carried most of the women against her and we won, but we bought you only a momentary reprieve. Those who voted with me did so from fear of what might come from killing angels. It will not take them long to see you are flesh and blood.’
Carnelian’s stomach clenched. His hopes had come to nothing. He felt a pang of regret that he had not after all returned to his father in Osrakum, but he dismissed this, knowing he could never have abandoned Osidian to die alone. There was nowhere else to go. He managed to find a smile for her. ‘I only wish I could have told Ebeny that I met you; that I saw her people and her home.’
Akaisha was watching him. ‘I can save you.’ Hope surged in Carnelian.
‘I could adopt you into my hearth.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Within our ditches, each hearthmother rules the children of her hearth.’
‘Surely the Elders –’
She shook her head. ‘The Assembly has no authority over a hearth nor over a hunt outside the Koppie.’
‘But the Elders punished Fern.’
‘It was I who set his punishment. He appeared before the Assembly merely to give an account of your journey.’
Carnelian considered everything she had said. ‘Why would you do this, my mother? Surely this will bring you nothing but trouble.’
‘You helped save the souls of my husband and my eldest son. Even if you had not, I would do this to keep the honour of my son who brought you here. Beyond all this, I will save you because my long-lost sister loves you.’
‘You only have my word that that is so.’
Akaisha smiled. ‘My sister wouldn’t have taught you our tongue unless she loved you. As much as you say you consider her your mother, she must have considered you her son.’
‘Will the rest of your hearth welcome me?’
She grew grave. ‘They’ll accept my decision because they must, but it might take a while before you are welcome.’
‘And my friend?’
She gave him a sharp look. ‘You mean your brother?’
‘Fern told you that?’
She nodded, still wary. When he said nothing, she said, ‘I’ve been wondering why if you are brothers he doesn’t also speak our tongue.’
‘He never knew Ebeny.’ Carnelian saw in her eyes that her welcome for Osidian was conditional on his relationship with him. He could not risk the truth.
‘We were separated at birth.’
Akaisha still looked unconvinced. ‘I do not believe he will settle in among us easily.’
Carnelian took one of her hands. ‘Don’t judge him too harshly, my mother. His life has been very different from mine. Besides, he has been ill and is not yet fully recovered.’
Akaisha’s face softened. ‘My son Ravan seems fond of him.’
Carnelian bit his lip and let that pass without comment. ‘If it had not been for him, none of us would have made it here.’
She paused some moments, examining him, so that he began to fear she did not believe him. ‘For your sake, he may join us too.’
Carnelian looked at his feet, ashamed of his deceptions; overcome by her kindness.
‘Will you enter my hearth?’
As he looked up at her, a feeling of dread rose in him as if something fearful lurked on the edges of this decision. He mastered himself. There was no other way.
‘Gladly,’ he said giving her hand a squeeze.
‘What’s your name?’ Akaisha asked Carnelian as they climbed the rootstair back up towards her tree.
‘Carnelian,’ he said.
Her try at the Quya made him smile. ‘Your accent is the same as Ebeny’s.’
Her eyes sparkled. ‘Is this strange name what my sister called you?’
‘She called me many things.’ He grinned. ‘But the name she used for me; that the household used for me …’ He winced at that reminder of what was the usual nature of the relationship between their two peoples. He felt she was trying hard not to judge him.
‘My Plainsman hearthkin called me Carnie.’
‘Well, that’s what your new hearthkin shall call you too.’
*
When they reached her cedar, Akaisha stopped him. Carnelian watched her survey the branches with a loving gaze.
‘Behold my mother tree,’ she said. ‘Incarnation of all my mothers. She’s been here since the world was born, her roots reaching deep into Mother Earth. The women of my lineage have lived their lives out in her shade. In death, they’ve lain among her roots with which she has drawn their souls up into her so that, sometimes, you can hear their voices speaking from her leaves. Her shade defines our hearth’s sacred rootearth. Only here may you walk barefoot as I may go uncovered.’ She drew the russet blanket back from black hair veined with silver all worked through with salt beads. ‘Take care you treat her well.’
Carnelian stooped to remove his shoes, glad of the distraction to hide the shame he felt from having already sinned against Akaisha’s beliefs. Not only had he followed Osidian’s lead to stand unshod upon the earth but he had done nothing when Osidian led Ravan into sacrilege. Should he warn her of the unhealthy influence Osidian had over her son?
Laughing, Akaisha snatched one of his makeshift shoes away. ‘Where did you get this?’
Carnelian explained that Fern had made it for him.
‘Well, we’ll have to see if we can’t do better than that, won’t we?’
A mutter of talk and some laughter came from the direction of the hearth. Carnelian could see people gathered there and that Osidian was not among them.
Akaisha looked grim. ‘And now you will meet your new hearthkin and share your first meal with us.’
‘I should go and fetch my brother.’
‘As you will. It is our custom to wash before we eat.’ She must have seen his uncertainty, for she added, ‘I shall send Ravan to show you where to wash.’
Half bowing to her, Carnelian made for his sleeping hollow. He found Osidian laid out in it as if in a tomb.
‘Are you awake?’
Osidian’s eyes when they opened seemed windows into
a cave.
Carnelian explained Akaisha’s offer and how it would save them from the Elders.
Osidian frowned. ‘Have you not yet grown weary of fraternizing with savages?’
The haughty Quya stung Carnelian to anger. ‘I have just had to lie to those savages to save your life.’
Footfalls approaching made him jump. Turning, he saw it was Ravan. Thankfully, they had been speaking in Quya. The boy looked past Carnelian at Osidian.
‘Master, my mother invites you to come and eat with us.’
‘Will you show me, Ravan, where I may wash?’ Carnelian said. Still waiting for Osidian to answer, the youth ignored him so that Carnelian took him by the arm. ‘Show me.’
Pulling his arm free, Ravan scowled, but he led Carnelian towards the trunk of the cedar where a large earthenware jar was wedged between the roots. Ravan plucked one of the leather bowls lying flattened against the tree and, opening it, set it down by the jar. He grated the lid off, took a ladle that hung above it, dipped it in and began to fill the bowl. When this was half full he hung up the ladle and then turned to Carnelian his hands on his hips. ‘Do you need help?’
Carnelian shook his head. ‘Go join your kin.’
It irritated him when he saw Ravan ignore him again and go straight back to Osidian in the hollow. Carnelian scooped up some water from the bowl and rubbed it over his face and neck. His fingers touching his scar increased his irritation. He had betrayed Akaisha already by lying to her. Glancing back he saw Osidian sitting up talking to Ravan. He wondered if it could be jealousy that made him uneasy about their relationship. He dismissed the thought. There were more important things to worry about, chief amongst these finding a way to encourage Osidian to accept life among the Ochre.
Carnelian poured the remaining water over his feet, folded the bowl and leant it back against the trunk. He stood for a moment listening to the murmur of talk, to the laughter coming from the other side of the tree. He began the walk round. His stomach churned as the hearth came into sight. Perhaps thirty people of all ages were sat on the two barrelling roots that enclosed the hearth hollow: the men and boys with their backs to him on one root, facing the women and girls sitting in a row along the other. Smoke was rising from the uphill end of the hollow. As he approached boldly they all turned to look at him. Akaisha was sitting uphill where the two roots met in a fork. She motioned him round to enter their gathering at the downhill end of the hollow. He had to walk past the men’s backs. The further down their line he went, the younger they became. At the end sat an infant whose legs did not reach the ground. Carnelian circled him, aware of the boy’s gaping stare, stepped over the root and came to stand at the open end of the hollow under the full pressure of their scrutiny. They were ranged up the slope: men on his left; women on his right. On the other side of the fire, Akaisha gave him a nod of encouragement. As she rose he felt the release as all heads turned towards her.
‘I have decided to adopt the two Standing Dead into our hearth.’
This news was greeted with shocked expressions, none more so than Fern’s. Whin was glowering at Akaisha but the matriarch ignored her.
‘Treat them with courtesy. They themselves have suffered grievously at the hands of their kind and we’re in their debt for the kindness they showed our hearthkin.’
‘This one is called “Carnie”,’ she said, causing them all to turn back to look at him. She proceeded to introduce them one by one. He nodded, making sure to look into the eyes of each; struggling to pronounce their names and follow the ways in which they were related to each other. On her left three sisters sat looking much alike, of whom one was Whin; opposite them and on Akaisha’s right, their husbands. The introductions moved down the benches on either side, introducing the daughters of the three sisters, two of whom had children on their laps and, sitting across from them, their husbands. Akaisha turned her attention back to the woman’s root to point out a daughter of her own who also had an infant, with her young husband sitting facing her. The last young woman, who was clutching a baby, Akaisha introduced as Sil, Whin’s daughter.
‘She holds our grand-daughter,’ Akaisha said, gazing at Sil’s child with adoration. She looked at Fern, who was beaming at her.
‘My son, who is Sil’s husband, of course you know already.’
The news that Fern had a wife and child came as a shock to Carnelian. As Akaisha continued pointing, rattling off the names of the dozen or so children, he tried to hide his confusion by giving his attention to each in turn. They gaped at him as if he were a talking aquar.
‘Have I forgotten anyone?’ Akaisha asked, smiling.
People shook their heads.
‘Well, let’s eat then.’
She pointed to a spot near Fern. ‘Carnie, sit beside my son.’
Carnelian obeyed, walking up the centre of the hollow until he reached the space the men had opened beside Fern on the root. He sat down. Out of the corner of his eye, he was aware that the boy on his right was staring into the side of his head. Across from him the girls and women were pretending not to be looking at him.
His attention was drawn to Akaisha as she stamped her foot three times. ‘Thanks be to the Mother from whom this food is born.’
‘And to the Skyfather,’ said Whin’s husband, glancing up into the heavens, ‘who makes her fruitful.’
Akaisha brought a small ivory box out of her robe. Still frowning, Whin leaned forward to take the lids off pots. Dipping into the box, Akaisha began to sprinkle salt over their food, a pinch at a time.
‘Our men’s sacrifice,’ she said.
The hearth echoed her. Akaisha put the box away and sat down on the root fork. Whin stirred each pot and then she and her sisters began ladling their contents out into bowls which they sent down the two lines. Carnelian watched a bowl being passed hand to hand towards him. When Fern gave him it, Carnelian turned, taking care not to spill its contents, and offered it to the boy beside him. The boy gaped at Carnelian, who recognized him as one of the two who had been with Whin when he met her. He offered the bowl again but all the boy did was stare.
Akaisha’s voice carried over to them. ‘You know, Blue, dear, if you don’t close your mouth you’ll end up swallowing a fly.’
Blue disengaged his eyes from Carnelian and glanced at Akaisha.
‘Yes, my mother,’ he said with a nod and, careful not to touch Carnelian’s hands, he took the bowl and passed it to a smaller boy sitting to his right.
At that moment, Ravan appeared. Blue and the other boys moved down the rootbench to make room for him beside Carnelian. Regarding the youth, Carnelian wondered what he and Osidian could have found to speak about for so long.
‘I’ll take food to the Master,’ Ravan announced.
‘No you won’t,’ said Akaisha. ‘If he wants food, he’ll have to come her and eat it with the rest of us.’
‘Then I’ll not eat either.’
‘Oh yes you will. Sit down.’
Ravan scowled at his mother, but did as he was told.
Carnelian had to pass several bowls to Ravan before he could keep one himself. The earthenware held some kind of stew with what appeared to be dumplings floating in it. He felt a handle being pushed into his hand and, looking up, saw a little girl was offering him a spoon. Thinner than the other children, she did not seem to share their fascination in the stranger.
‘Thank you,’ he said, quietly.
The girl looked up at him through her lashes. There was a shadow of grief around her eyes. When he smiled at her, she looked away and moved on down the line distributing more spoons. Carnelian leaned close to Fern. ‘I don’t remember being introduced to her.’
Fern raised his eyebrows as he watched her. ‘I’ve no idea who she is.’
‘Fernie.’ It was his wife, Sil, sitting across from them. ‘Twostone,’ she mouthed, slid her gaze over Carnelian’s face and, balancing her baby, began to eat.
Carnelian dug his spoon into the bowl and scooped up a dumpling with
some gravy. He put it in his mouth. Chewed it.
He nudged Fern. ‘This is good.’
‘I’m glad you think so,’ said Fern. ‘It’s what we eat almost every night.’
Carnelian concentrated on the stew, trying to work through his earlier upset. Fern had a wife and child and that was it. Osidian had been right: he did have feelings for Fern. He would suppress them and they would fade.
Scraping the last spoonful, he looked up to find Sil staring at him. She turned her focus on the baby on her lap. Carnelian decided Sil was rather pretty. He watched her chew food to the front of her mouth, then stoop to transfer it into her baby’s mouth. It seemed something an animal might do, but then he remembered that he had done the same for Osidian.
All around the hearth, people were discussing him. He tried to distract himself by listening to them but could only pick out a few words and even that grew tiring. Fern was giving all his attention to his bowl though Carnelian could see it was empty. His friend looked sad. Carnelian realized he had been so busy trying to adapt to his new world he had forgotten about Fern’s punishment. Carnelian wanted to know what he had meant by labouring as a woman. Fern’s look of dejection did not bode well.
Whin’s voice carried across the chatter. ‘Skai, fetch me Carnie’s bowl. If his appetite is in keeping with his size, I’m sure he could do with some more.’
‘Whin,’ said Akaisha, a note of warning in her voice.
Carnelian lifted his gaze and found that, defying Akaisha, Whin was regarding him coldly. Without taking her eyes off him, she nudged a boy standing beside her. ‘Do as you’re told.’
As the boy came towards him Carnelian tried to decipher the expression on Whin’s face. She seemed to be waiting for something to happen.
Skai, who was about eight, was the second boy Carnelian had seen before with Whin. The boy stood in front of him, looking at the ground, his hands extended for Carnelian’s bowl. Carnelian could not avoid seeing the glyphs tattooed on the boy’s right hand. ‘Kumatuya Seventeen’, he read, knowing instantly the boy had been selected for the following year’s flesh tithe.
The Standing Dead (The Stone Dance Of The Chameleon) Page 22
