The Chosen

‘She has already murdered her own daughter.' 'Her daughter?' 'Flama Ykoria.' 'Why…?'

'Ykoriana was the first woman for generations to be born blood-rank four.'

Carnelian almost gasped as he calculated it. 'Her ring casts eight thousand votes. Nearly half as much as all the Great together.'

Jaspar nodded. Through her, Flama Ykoria inherited the same rank. Now, Ykoriana alone enjoys this distinction.'

Carnelian was aghast. 'But even she must fear the Law.'

Jaspar laughed without humour. 'She had already long before suffered all the punishments the Law can inflict on Chosen women: the purdah imprisonment, blinding.'

Carnelian shuddered. 'But not death?'

'We do not slay our women, they are too precious to us.'

Carnelian realized Jaspar was not being ironic. 'What other crime did she commit?'

Jaspar shrugged. 'Some matter internal to the House of the Masks. That is in the past. It is the election that concerns her now.'

'How will victory assuage her bitterness?'

'Nephron is his father's son, Molochite his mother's: a weak prince, a wallower in rare vices. She would wed him, encourage his corruption, then rule unfettered from behind his throne. Of course, if your father were to ensure Nephron's victory…'

'My father?'

Then he would enjoy high favour at the new Gods' side and, should he choose, could wield oppressive power over others of us of the Great.'

'My father would never abuse such trust.'

'He might not, but what if he became an instrument in another's hand? Aurum's, for example?'

'Aurum?'

'You must have noticed, Carnelian, what influence he has over your father?'

Carnelian felt the sweat soaking the bandages on his back. 'I… I really have no idea what you mean, my Lord.'

'Are you certain that you have not, cousin?'

'Absolutely certain.'

'Well then.' Jaspar's mask was a dark mirror. 'We have talked enough, cousin. One would not deprive you of much-needed sleep. The days that follow promise to be wearisome, neh?'

Jaspar turned and walked back up the slope. As Carnelian watched him fade away, his heart seemed to be shaking its way out of his body. A scent of menace lingered on the night air. He told himself that really nothing much had happened. It amused his cousin Jaspar to frighten him a little, that was all.

When Carnelian was calmer he began to climb the knoll. The Marula squatting in the dark like boulders stood up silently as he passed and followed him.

Mattresses thick enough to satisfy the commands of the Law had been rolled out to form a floor in the tent. The air was weighed with incense. Carnelian jerked a nod at Jaspar. He frowned when he saw Tain prostrate with another gangly boy beside him. His brother looked up and twitched a smile.

'What a relief it would be to remove these accursed wrappings,' said Jaspar, speaking from behind him.

Carnelian could feel his own bandages embracing him like clammy arms.

'One fears we will have to stew in them until we reach Osrakum.'

Carnelian gave the boys leave to rise. He registered the look of horror on Tain's face and could make no sense of it. The other boy slipped past him with hands held out. 'Let your slave help you, Master,' he said in a thin voice.

In increasing confusion, Carnelian watched Tain clasp trembling hands over his face. Carnelian turned and saw the other boy's small hands reverently coping with the weight of Jaspar's mask as it was handed down.

'My slave is not as pretty as yours, cousin, but he is a wonder with a brush,' Jaspar was saying.

Carnelian felt sudden nausea as he stared at the Master's naked face. 'You have destroyed my brother.'

Jaspar started back and put on an expression of childlike innocence. 'Cousin? Aaah, you are being droll.'

'You removed your mask.'

'Indeed. Did you think I would sleep in it?'

'But the Law… he will have to be punished.'

'He will have to be blinded.'

'You did it deliberately?' Carnelian put his hand to his head. 'I can't believe it,' he said in Vulgate.

'All the slaves we brought with us will be blinded. Did you really think, Carnelian, that the Great would choose to suffer inconvenience merely to save the eyes of a handful of slaves?' He laughed. 'It is too grotesque.'

Carnelian turned back to Tain. His brother's hands hung limp at his side. He would not lift his eyes.

'One can see no reason for so much distress. What is this pretty creature to you, cousin?' Jaspar gave a knowing smile. 'He will still be able to perform for you.'

'He is my brother!' Carnelian said, aghast.

That is a ridiculous word to use of one whose blood runs dull and cold.' Jaspar reached down to his slave's hand and lifted it. The boy could have been a rag doll. Jaspar opened the boy's hand. 'I might as well start claiming this one to be my nephew, or some such.'

A green tattoo on the palm proved the boy had been fathered by a Master. Jaspar let the arm flop down.

The procedure can be made painless. Besides, you can give him beautiful new eyes of stone. Turquoise would match his colouring. Give him sapphires if you wish to pamper him.'

Carnelian gaped at Jaspar, then dug his chin into his chest and held his stomach. He dared not look round at Tain.

'Do not be cruel, cousin. Think on my loss,' said Jaspar.

Carnelian looked up.

'Yours might at least preserve some of his uses while mine…' Jaspar took his slave's chin in a gloved hand, lifted it. The boy's enormous dark, bruise-lidded eyes closed and trembled. 'Without his eyes, this one will be of very little use.' He pouted his lips, lapsed into Vulgate. 'Isn't that so, little one?' The boy produced a tearful grimace that attempted to be a smile. Jaspar released the slave's chin and turned to Carnelian. 'Feel at liberty to remove your mask, and then we shall be equally responsible for the damage of each other's property.'

Carnelian shook his head slowly, seeing nothing. Everything was drenched with decay. His father must have expected this would happen and had done nothing to stop it.

Jaspar was all joviality. 'You really will have to forget these peculiar sensibilities, Carnelian. They are so unbecoming in one of the Chosen.'

Only in the dark did Carnelian remove his mask. Then he lay down, rubbing the edges of his face where the mask had dug in. He clasped his left hand over his blood-ring, the sign of his manhood. It was not a charm. He felt like a lonely child. Tain was somewhere outside. Jaspar had insisted it was not fitting that a Lord should sleep in the same place as another's slave. Carnelian had said nothing to Tain. What comfort could he have given him even if Jaspar had not been there? His brother could not have understood the Quya, but he knew well enough what punishment would be his for looking on a Master's face.

Carnelian could hear Jasper's slow breathing. He wondered why he felt no anger towards him. It was a terrible betrayal to feel no anger. With a peculiar detachment he considered the conversation he had had with the Master. He knew now that Jaspar's motives for talking to him had not been any attempt at friendship. Jaspar was no different from the other Masters. In that, at least, his father had been right.

Outside a voice was singing. Its sad sound failed to touch Carnelian. Everything seemed to be shut outside him. He wanted to die. What point was there to a life in which one felt nothing? His fingers found the mattress edge. They dangled over. Then, daring sacrilege, they pushed down to touch the unhallowed, corrupted earth. Carnelian expected something, a shock, a sting but there was nothing, nothing but his fingers stirring dust.

Carnelian was woken by aquar song welcoming the dawn. He sat up. He could hear the murmur of the camp. His body ached all over. Jaspar was gone. Squatting in a corner, Tain was staring at the ground. As Carnelian stood up, his brother came over to help him dress. They adjusted Carnelian's riding cloak avoiding each other's eyes. Carnelian felt that if he were to stretch out his hand he would stub his fingers on the wall that had risen between them.