He ceased work with the Bluedancing but tried instead to get as much food and water as he could for them. He made sure to keep an eye on their Ochre overseers. He understood what spurred these women to cruelty. Sometimes, when he saw the thin arms of the Bluedancing plucking at the red earth, he grew enraged, desiring to lash them, to heap abuse on them, but he had delved deep enough to see this was guilt taking possession of him: by bringing his victims low, he could hope to justify keeping them in their place.
He did not judge the Ochre. They had lived all their lives with the constant threat of having their children stolen from them. It was not easy for them to have become the very thing they most hated.
Days later Carnelian, worn down by another day working as an overseer, returned to the hearth desperate for its familial warmth. Sil and the other women were lining their bench. A smell of stew was drifting in the air. He went to wash first and smiled when one of the children greeted him, then jumped when something in the shadow under the mother tree moved.
'You,' he gasped, seeing it was Osidian.
'I have come to impart to you the role you will play in my great hunt.'
Osidian said no more and Carnelian was glad when he left him alone to his washing, for it gave him time to order his thoughts. When he joined the hearth he found Osidian was not there.
'Ravan?' Carnelian asked as Akaisha handed him a steaming bowl.
The Master came without either of my sons,' she said, severely.
'Did he say-?'
'He said nothing.'
Akaisha must have seen his anger, for she put her hand on his arm. 'We need him, Carnie,' she said, quietly. 'If his plan fails, the Tribe will starve.'
He gave her a nod, smiling, and she released him.
Carnelian carried the bowl to his sleeping hollow. Osidian was there.
'I have brought you some food,' Carnelian said, in Quya.
'Leave it on the ground,' the shadow replied. Carnelian put the bowl down. 'Are the hostage children well?'
'Well enough.' 'Was that your idea?'
Osidian smiled. 'Amusingly, the savages thought it up entirely on their own. It seems they have the capacity to learn something from their superiors.'
'Why are you training the Ochre for war?'
'Carnelian, you have known my intentions since the day we reached the Earthsky.'
Carnelian became exasperated. 'You really believe the Ochre can win you back your throne?'
They shall be but the first tribe of my host.'
'Plainsmen against the legions?'
'My first move in the game that is to come.'
Carnelian felt he was talking to a madman.
Osidian took him by the shoulders. 'Believe me, Carnelian, we shall return to Osrakum and regain everything we have lost.'
Carnelian took a step back to break the hold Osidian had on him. 'Even if you were successful, you would be returning to Osrakum alone. I shall remain here with these people.'
'I will not allow that,' said Osidian, his voice ice.
'"You will not allow?" You may control events here, Osidian, but you do not control me. I know you could manipulate me, use force even, but my heart will no longer yield to you.'
Carnelian felt Osidian's anger in the stillness. 'In addition, I will play no further part in your schemes. If you continue on your path I will do anything I can to stop you.'
Osidian smiled. 'Anything?'
Carnelian restrained his lust to punch Osidian's white face. He thought of again threatening to betray his plans to the Elders, but he feared what Osidian might do to Fern. A murmur was coming from the hearth.
Osidian chuckled. Thinking up threats, Carnelian?' He grew serious. 'I will devise a way to change your mind, but take care; what I have set in motion here cannot easily be stopped. Whether or not you decide to oppose me, accept that your precious 'Tribe" can never return to the life they had. Either they shall follow the path I have chosen for them or else they will be destroyed. However much I may feel the God working through me, a successful outcome is not assured, but be certain of one thing: I alone can hope to control the forces I have unleashed.'
Carnelian felt he was being possessed by Osidian's vision.
'Are you sulking, Carnelian?'
It seemed a different person saying that. Carnelian felt annoyed at being spoken to like a child and then, realizing how childish this was, he smiled.
Osidian glared. 'Do you mock me, my Lord?'
This made Carnelian burst into laughter, which he took some time suppressing. 'Not at you… at me,' he managed to say.
As the tremors of mirth subsided, the horror flooded back.
'You were going to tell me about this great hunt of yours.'
Osidian frowned. 'You will play your part?' 'Do I have a choice?' 'Knowing you, none at all.'
Carnelian could feel the faraway thunder through his saddle-chair. His aquar was very still as she blinked her enormous eyes at the horizon. Her eye quills twitched at every sound.
'Make ready,' he cried.
He was outside the Newditch on one side of the Horngate. Other riders formed a line with him stretching away into the lush fernland. On the other side of the gate under Sil's command was another line of aquar raked back, each hitched to one of the drag-cradles he had modified according to Osidian's instructions.
The thunder deepened under the clear sky. The ground was now shaking so that Carnelian, seeing the breeze ruffling the fernheads, could imagine the earth they concealed was undulating with the slow rhythm of deep water.
The riders, all women, coughed their tension. Carnelian joined them in gazing off to where they could see the horizon darkening with a mounding mass. He swallowed past a parched throat.
Closer and closer rolled the flood. The earth's shaking jostied him in his chair. His aquar's quills half-flared as she drew back her head and stared veiling her eyes with their inner lids. He rubbed his feet on her back to calm her.
Carnelian began to see details in the flood. Necks reaching up to the sky like tornadoes.
'Heaveners,' the cry of shock went up from the women round him.
Carnelian sagged, knowing they were right. Osidian had said nothing about the giants being the victims of his hunt. Carnelian felt he had been tricked. The women were arguing among themselves. Should he sabotage Osidian's hunt? Gripping his saddle-chair against the tremors, Carnelian looked round at the fernmeadow. He relived the grinding labour of the Bluedancing; the conflicts among the Ochre. Could he dismiss all those sacrifices? Could he deliver the Tribe into famine?
He surveyed the women, all pale indecision. He saw how they were having difficulty controlling their aquar. The heaveners were close enough for him to see the mountainous churning of their legs. It was now or never.
'Light up now!' he bellowed.
The women confronted him with stares. It was Sil who spoke for them. 'Carnie, they're sacred.'
'Do you want the Tribe to starve?'
That made up their minds. Craning round he saw more women flinging torches into the drag-cradles. The kindling piled on them ignited with a blast that caused Carnelian's aquar to take several steps forward. He let her go and saw at the edges of his sight the other riders lurching raggedly into movement. He urged his aquar into a run. Craning round, he saw his drag-cradle shaking and jumping, rolling fire into the ferns. Smoke the colour of old teeth was snaking in among their stems.