The Third God

by Ricardo Pinto

  ‘You sent the Marula back.’

  Carnelian groaned. ‘Do you really imagine the aquar would have ridden through that firestorm?’

  Osidian glanced at Morunasa, who was making no attempt to hide his resentment of their use of Quya. ‘I would have thought it would suit you to have the Marula dead.’

  ‘I no longer know what I want.’

  Osidian nodded as if this were some great wisdom. ‘It is time to admit defeat.’

  Carnelian stared at him. It felt as if the last prop holding him up had been pulled away. Though he had never believed in Osidian’s plan, opposition to it had defined his own. ‘So that is it, you are simply going to give up?’

  Osidian glanced up the Pass. ‘I will wait here for Aurum. I want to die in Osrakum.’

  Carnelian looked at him with contempt. ‘Never a thought for anyone but yourself.’

  Osidian looked around as if wounded. ‘You can come with me. The Wise will punish you, but you will survive.’

  Carnelian looked back into the cave. ‘And these others?’

  Osidian shrugged. ‘I do not imagine my Lord Aurum will let them live, but you can try to bring some with you.’

  Slow anger simmered in Carnelian. ‘I will not so easily abandon them.’ He turned to Morunasa. ‘Oracle, at first light, we’ll leave this infernal canyon.’

  ‘And go where, Master?’

  Carnelian felt suddenly so tired it was an effort to remain standing. ‘I don’t know. I really don’t know. Perhaps we might find some Lepers and get some help for our wounded.’

  He gazed at Osidian. ‘Stay here by yourself if you want.’

  He walked back into the cave. When he reached Fern he sank down, drawing Poppy towards him and putting his arm around her.

  Before he led the Marula out from the caves Carnelian waited until the sky was bright enough to light the Pass. In spite of the care with which he and Krow had loaded Fern into his saddle-chair, with each step his aquar took, he jigged like a doll. Many Marula were nursing livid burns. Some were crammed two to a saddle-chair. Aquar that had been badly scorched had become uncontrollable. Looking back along the line, Carnelian saw not a military force but a mob of mauled and beaten men.

  As the morning passed, the wind following them seemed to urge them to greater speed. Still, he was not keen to risk the wounded on the uneven ground. Allowing his aquar to find her own route down he had plenty of time to think. Osidian was there, riding at his side, brooding. Carnelian nonetheless thought it unlikely Osidian would change his mind: he meant to give himself up to Aurum. Carnelian knew he should be thankful Osidian was not bent on returning to the Earthsky, but all he could feel was resentment. It sickened him that Aurum had won. The Lepers would have no justice. Unbearably, the destruction of the Ochre would become nothing more than an incidental occurrence utterly peripheral to the political upheaval their absence from Osrakum had caused. It was as if everything he and Osidian had suffered, all the destruction they had brought about, all the atrocities, were to become nothing more than an inelegantly played gambit in a game of Three. With Osidian’s capture and return to Osrakum Aurum and the Wise would have pulled off a major coup. As for him he was a minor piece. Depending on the movements of the major pieces he might end up merely chastised. His House would lose influence. Ultimately, he would be returned to the splendours and luxuries of his palaces. The massacres in the Earthsky and the Leper Valleys would merely elicit some small adjustments in the tributary lists and some measured reprisals of terror against the errant tribes. The ripples that had spread out from Osrakum would undulate away to nothing. Order would return. Everything would be as it had always been. How he yearned to stay behind somewhere, anywhere that he could live in peace with Fern and Poppy, but this desire had been shown for the madness that it was. He had no place out here among the subjects of the Commonwealth. What little he could still do he must endeavour to do well.

  Fern’s wounds needed urgent attention. The only possible source of help was the Lepers, but even if, somehow, he could contact them and they not only had the means to help, but chose to, where would Fern live out the rest of his days?

  Poppy was riding nearby, Krow beside her. There was some hope there. The youth seemed to love her and, in time, she might forgive him. Carnelian tried to visualize scenarios in which they could return to the Earthsky, find a tribe, resume the pattern of their lives his coming had nearly obliterated. He could see nothing but the difficulties. Lily came into his mind. Her people had suffered terrible loss too, and defilement. Among them, his friends might be able to find a refuge; in time, even happiness. This was something that was possible and that might be within his power to arrange. But he was forgetting the Marula. Morunasa’s control of them was now the greatest threat. If he found out what Osidian was planning to do, he would have his people slaughter them all. Carnelian’s gaze took in the Marula warriors riding all around him. They must be kept busy long enough to get his loved ones to safety. He realized he was searching for Sthax. What good would finding him do? The Maruli was as much a creature of the Oracles as the rest of his fellows. As for Osidian and himself, he cared not a jot. If anything, he drew pleasure from how their deaths might still ruin the game Aurum and the Wise were playing.

  He urged his aquar to drift towards Osidian’s. When he was close enough he waited until Osidian eventually looked up. Osidian was about to speak, but Carnelian gestured: No words. With his hands Carnelian explained some of his thinking. He told Osidian that he would return with him to Osrakum but, first, they would have to survive among the Marula. Osidian was watching his signs with half-lidded eyes. When Carnelian had finished, Osidian gave no indication he had even understood. Carnelian saw how listless he looked. Defeated, Osidian seemed to have lost the will to live. What little motivation he had left would, most likely, be focused on obtaining at least some measure of revenge against Aurum, the Wise, his mother and his brother. Carnelian recognized that, for whatever came next, he was on his own.

  The sun was low when they began emerging from the shadow of the Pass. Surveying the emerald mottle of the swamps, the winking diamonds of water, Carnelian let it all flow over him and disperse the shadow from his heart. For a moment he even managed to forget his failures and the coming reckoning.

  They wound through boulders, beneath stands of acacias, across ferny meadows until he saw, ahead, a cleavage in the earth. He took the Marula down into it, towards a watercourse nearly choked with white rocks through which myriad streams percolated. He chose a spot where jumbled slabs enclosed a honeycomb of caves and crannies. There among cascading rivulets he bade the Marula make a camp.

  Poppy found them a cave: a wedge of cool shade that tapered into darkness. Here they laid Fern out on a slab, setting his puckered burns against the cold limestone. Soaking their ubas in a little stream-fed pool they applied them as poultices upon his angry, red skin.

  Carnelian left Poppy and Krow nursing Fern, telling them he intended to beg help for him from the Lepers. Then he went in search of Morunasa.

  The Marula inhabited all kinds of hollows, like nesting birds. The handful of sartlar had dug a hole in the earth to hide in. Morunasa and the other Oracles had taken up residence in a series of slots that lay up the slope of a vast, lichen-streaked slab. Two kneeling warriors were lighting a fire around which the Oracles were seated in a half-circle. All save Morunasa gave Carnelian a nod as he climbed up to them. Morunasa indicated a space for Carnelian to sit. He betrayed no reaction when Carnelian announced his intention to get aid from the Lepers, but first spoke to his people in their tongue, then fixed Carnelian with an enquiring look. ‘To what end, Master?’

  ‘We need to find another way to the land above. The Lepers are likely to know many.’

  Morunasa gazed out over the watercourse. The black limbs and bodies of the Marula looked dismembered among the limestone boulders. Without looking at Carnelian he spoke. ‘We have little belief left that getting there we’ll achieve anything.’


  Carnelian found it hard to push his claim further. He could see as well as Morunasa how bony were the arms of the men working on the fire. It was obvious to all how weakened the Marula had become, how dispirited. ‘We all need time to heal our bodies and spirits.’

  Morunasa gave a nod to this.

  ‘We need options,’ Carnelian said.

  Morunasa regarded him.

  Carnelian explained that he wanted to send as many of the able men as they could to seek out Leper groups to negotiate for medicines, for food, for information.

  ‘Why don’t we all go east?’ Morunasa asked.

  Carnelian opened his hands. They were as empty as his strategy. ‘There’re many too wounded, too weary, to make a long march through the swamps.’

  ‘The Ochre worst of all.’

  Carnelian examined Morunasa’s face. Was this mockery – or maybe even sympathy? He was sick of lying, but he dared not be frank. ‘A camp so close to the Pass will more likely be safe from Leper marauders.’

  ‘Who do you have in mind to head this expedition?’ asked Morunasa.

  ‘You?’

  Morunasa shook his head. ‘I’ll remain here with the Master.’

  Carnelian nodded. ‘I’ll have to remain here with Fern.’

  ‘I alone among my people speak Vulgate.’

  The fire between them began teasing up smoke. Flames crackled in the central nest of twigs. As the two warriors rose, Carnelian saw one of them was Sthax. The warriors bowed to the Oracles and padded off down the slab.

  Carnelian feared drawing any attention to Sthax and so continued with what he had been going to say. ‘Then we should send Krow and Poppy.’

  ‘The girl?’

  ‘As I’ve reason to know, the Lepers are frightened. Having a child speak for us will make us seem less threatening.’

  In the morning, Carnelian stood with Morunasa watching Poppy and Krow ride away. Behind them rode most of the unwounded Marula warriors. Carnelian remained there until they disappeared. He feared he had lost them for ever.

  Within a crevice, in shadow, Osidian lay like a corpse. Carnelian knelt beside him. It was hard to see in his face the boy from the Yden. The marble round the eyes had hairline cracks and not from laughing. The corners of the mouth drew down into the chin. The lips had thinned. It was a face that betrayed suffering. He regarded it, fighting sadness. Not just for the loss of what they had had, but also for what Osidian himself had lost and suffered.

  Osidian’s eyes opened and found Carnelian’s face. For a moment he looked confused, vulnerable, but then his face set into its familiar, wilful mask. That mask drove compassion from Carnelian. The man lying there was the murderer of the Ochre. He focused on what he had come to say. ‘Our greatest peril now is Morunasa.’

  When Osidian said nothing Carnelian felt cheated and realized he had been hoping for one of Osidian’s dismissive remarks. He continued. ‘I find it hard to believe he does not suspect what we are up to. If we are to survive until Aurum comes for us you must strive to allay his fears.’

  Osidian pursed his lips, shook his head. ‘I can do nothing.’

  ‘Cannot or will not?’

  Osidian’s eyebrows rose together. ‘My god no longer speaks to me. I search for him in my dreams, but he is not there. He is gone so completely that I begin to doubt I ever heard his voice at all.’ His gaze sharpened. ‘Do you really believe that if I speak to Morunasa he would not see this?’ He seemed to sink away as if his flesh were draining into the earth. ‘You would be wise to keep him away from me.’ His eyes closed and he seemed not even to be breathing.

  Carnelian felt fury rising in him. He wanted to shout at him that he could not simply hide from the situation, but he sensed Osidian immovable and went to cool his anger by soaking cloths in the stream and then laying them on Fern’s arm and shoulder to soothe the burns.

  Old woman’s face running with blood. Voice rustling leaves. Carnelian knows she is Poppy. Iron streams in her wrinkles pour down to the sea. Ravens kiting, scribing circles in the wind. Is that a body at the focus of their funnelling? No. Fresh uncurling ferns, green foam on the waves. The tide is coming in. The tide is coming in.

  Carnelian woke suddenly. Uneasy wisps of the dream unravelled, fading. He sat up and saw Fern lying near him, his burns fiercely red against the brown-green of the fronds upon which he lay. Outside their cave the sky was bright and vast and clear.

  As the days passed, Carnelian grew used to the routes between the rocks, to the murmur of the stream. He spent time losing himself in the limitless sky or gazing at the white cliff of the Guarded Land, imagining a return to his father, to Ebeny, to his brothers in Osrakum. Much of every day he spent sitting on a high rock gazing east across the valleys, searching for Poppy’s return. While the sun was up, it was possible to keep fear and worry at bay. At night nightmares lay in wait for him.

  As for Morunasa and the Oracles, they rarely descended from their lair among the rocks. The fear Carnelian had of them abated. They seemed to have become no more menacing than a flock of crows.

  Though Carnelian had been watching them for a while, it took some time for him to be certain that the distant figures were the returning Marula warriors. They had been gone for more than four days. Straining his eyes, he could still not see Poppy or Krow among them. Neither was there any sign they had brought any Lepers with them.

  He became aware of movement nearby. It was Morunasa and the Oracles descending their slab. He cursed. Morunasa called up to him and he clambered down to meet them. Together they watched the riders winding towards them through the boulder field. Carnelian knew that as soon as Morunasa and the Oracles were reunited with their people the rest of them would be once more within their power. He was relieved to discern Poppy and Krow riding at the head of the returning Marula. She waved and Carnelian waved back. As she came closer he unwound his uba so that she would be reassured by his smile. Though she returned it he could see the worry in her eyes. He stepped forward as her aquar sank to the ground and he helped her out of her saddle-chair. The Oracles clustered round them.

  Carnelian saw how the returning warriors were making straight for the stream and turned enquiringly to Poppy. ‘Are you thirsty?’

  She looked at him, unsure what answer he wanted.

  ‘There’ll be time enough to drink,’ said Morunasa. ‘Tell us everything, child.’

  Uneasily she looked round the circle of the ashen faces, her gaze coming finally back to Carnelian. He gave her a nod. It seemed futile to attempt to keep anything from Morunasa.

  ‘For the first couple of days we saw hardly anyone. Those we did ran off and we couldn’t catch up with them. On the third day, we left the Marula in camp and Krow and I went off on our own.’

  Carnelian glanced at Krow, who had come to stand protectively behind Poppy, then returned his attention to her. She looked at him intensely. ‘We found several who talked to us. We begged them for help.’ She pointed at her saddle-chair. ‘They gave us some salve that is good for wounds, but said they could do nothing more for us.’

  Carnelian tried to hide his disappointment behind a smile. ‘You did well.’

  Morunasa turned a jaundiced gaze on Carnelian. ‘Did she?’

  Carnelian was sure he could hear an edge of menace in the man’s voice. Confrontation could no longer be avoided. ‘Shall we meet in council?’

  Morunasa gave a solemn nod without taking his eyes off Carnelian. He spoke to the other Oracles in their own tongue. They too looked at Carnelian as they gave their assent. He could see they were waiting for him, but he needed time to think. ‘Let’s meet at nightfall.’

  Morunasa gazed out over their encampment, now full of Marula warriors. ‘You’ll bring the Master?’

  When Carnelian agreed, Morunasa began addressing the other Oracles. Carnelian slipped his arms around Poppy and Krow and led them towards their cave. Behind them the Oracles began moving off in pairs across the camp, to speak to their warriors.

  Hunch
ed together, they gazed down at Fern. Poppy knelt and pulled a jar from her bag. ‘Let’s put some of this stuff on his wounds.’

  As she pulled the cloth cap back from the jar it exhaled an odour that overcame Carnelian with a memory. He asked her for it and Poppy put it in his hand. He raised the jar to his nose and inhaled. He recalled the sartlar woman applying her burning ointment to the wounds the slaver ropes had cut into his neck and ankles. It was the same smell.

  Poppy looked alarmed. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he said. He returned the jar. ‘It has a very characteristic smell.’

  ‘And it burns in your wounds,’ Krow said. ‘But, soon after, it leaves them soothed.’

  Carnelian nodded and Poppy, kneeling, began to apply it to Fern’s arm. Carnelian knelt beside her and, taking some of the salve on his finger, bent to anoint Fern’s shoulder. ‘So they refused to help us?’

  Poppy looked at him. ‘They threatened us at first, but we could see they were terrified of Sthax.’

  ‘Sthax?’

  She nodded. ‘I lied to Morunasa when I said we went alone. Sthax asked to go with us. I didn’t mention it because I didn’t want to get him in any trouble.’

  ‘He asked?’

  ‘Sort of. We made conditions.’

  ‘He understood you?’ he said, incredulous.

  Poppy shrugged. ‘Well enough.’

  Carnelian frowned. ‘You were right to lie about him.’ Poppy was gazing at him, curious about his reaction. ‘Please continue with your story.’

  Poppy let it go. ‘The Lepers became friendly enough when Krow showed them his burns. It was only then they believed we’d suffered from the dragons.’

  Krow nodded. ‘They said we could return with them to some cave, that they would hide us, even share their food with us.’

  ‘Did they?’ Carnelian sat back, thinking.

  Poppy knew him well enough to be able to read something of his thoughts in his face. ‘You want to leave us here with them, don’t you?’

  Carnelian grimaced. ‘There’s nowhere else.’