The Standing Dead

'I saw no jars,' said Carnelian.

'Did I not say, in the baobabs?'

They're hollow?'

Chewing, Morunasa gave a nod.

Carnelian remembered the openings he had seen in the charred trees. Osidian looked around the fire. 'All of you go and search these out.'

The Plainsmen were reluctant to leave their fire, but they obeyed. Fern gave Carnelian a glance before disappearing into the night with them.

Carnelian felt a touch on his arm and turned to look at Osidian.

'We need to talk, you and I,' he said in Quya.

Carnelian was reluctant, but gave a nod.

'While I am gone it shall be your paramount task to rebuild the Ladder.'

Carnelian remembered the mess of the ropes he had seen so far down the chasm wall. 'It will be a great labour.'

'You can use aquar to lift it.'

Carnelian looked out over the camp. 'Still, men will have to be sent down somehow to attach ropes to the Ladder. It will be dangerous work.'

'I do not wish you to risk them.'

'Who else?'

'Sartlar,' said Osidian, a strange light showing again in his eyes.

Carnelian gawped.

Osidian patted the ground with his hand. 'Yes, they are here beneath our feet. They infest caves gouged into the wall of the chasm.'

The other ladder,' Carnelian said. The one you descended with Morunasa?'

Osidian nodded. He leaned forward to capture Carnelian in his gaze. 'Listen to me and listen welclass="underline" the Plainsmen must not descend that ladder. If you have need, go there alone. If you do, you will understand why it is I say this. You hear my words?'

Carnelian nodded, staring, confused. Something occurred to him. 'How shall I summon them?'

'Strike the cables of their ladder thrice and they will come.'

Carnelian returned to his fire-watching. The sartlar were there beneath his feet as they had been in the bowels of the ship as oarsmen on the voyage to the Three Lands. He wondered what they were doing in the Upper Reach and what it was Osidian was so determined to hide from the Plainsmen.

'When I return it will be with Manila Oracles and their pygmy slaves.'

'And then you shall give them back this place.'

Osidian glanced at Morunasa, who frowned. 'We shall see.'

Fern and the others appeared, looking frightened. The trees are all filled with children dried like huskmen.' 'What did he say?' asked Morunasa. Carnelian translated.

Morunasa gave a snort. 'Not children, Flatlander, pygmies.'

'But they're dead,' Fern said.

Morunasa showed his pointed teeth. 'It would be strange if they were not; it's the tradition of the forest people to place their dead within the hollowed bellies of trees.'

Carnelian felt Osidian's hand grip his arm and turned to look into his eyes.

'Once, Carnelian, I knew in my heart you would give your life to save mine.'

They regarded each other with a sadness that made Fern and Krow both ask what was the matter. Osidian's gaze did not allow Carnelian to say anything to them and they stepped back, silent.

'Now it has become necessary for me to say to you that on my return, should the Ladder be not repaired, or should I receive any impediment to my ascent, then I shall offer myself to the Manila to lead their next attack on the Earthsky. If that should come to pass, be sure I will annihilate the Ochre.'

Hatred rose in Carnelian. Could Osidian manage nothing without threats or terror? He almost thanked him for making it easier to kill him.

***

Carnelian was trapped in the cabin of a ship riding a stormy sea. The smell of iron lingering in the air made him queasy. He leaned against a bulkhead. Under his touch its surface was dry and powdery. He lifted his hand and peered at where it had been resting. Hri-bread riddled with holes. The cabin was made of it; the ship. He could feel her hull soaking up the salty sea. Dark water welled up from the floor. The iron smell of blood. When he tried to pull his feet up he felt them tearing off at the ankles. It was disorientating that he felt no pain. His skin writhed and itched. He leaned over and saw his legs were bread. As he brought his hands close, they left a wake of fine powder in the air. His hands were porous, every hole itching from the writhe of weevils.

He awoke gasping. It was night in the garden of the Yden. The branches of the pomegranate trees were stark against the sky. Why were they leafless? He had believed autumn never came to Osrakum. He sat up. Hunched shapes were swarming in the darkness. His heart beat up into his mouth. They had come again for him and Osidian. Or was it his father they wished to wound? He closed his eyes and fought confusion. His mind cleared. He was in the Upper Reach. When he opened his eyes again, the night was as lifeless as the baobabs.

Carnelian woke still oppressed by his nightmare. He imagined the baobabs as corpses riddled with the maggots of pygmy cadavers and shuddered. He sought distraction in watching Osidian wander around their camp selecting those who were to remain behind. The rest seemed only too happy to saddle their aquar. Soon they had descended the knoll and were riding up the escarpment, while those who were left watched forlornly.

On the chasm edge, Carnelian busied himself helping to devise a way to lower Osidian and Morunasa down to the

Ladder. It seemed impossibly far away but, Morunasa assured them, only the top fifth or so had come loose; the rest was still firmly held to the rock by wooden wedges.

Ropes were found and Osidian elected to go first. 'I shall announce my return with smoke,' he said in Quya.

Carnelian nodded and then they lowered him with the help of an aquar, using one of the Ladder anchor trees as a capstan. Morunasa was next. When the rope went slack, Carnelian joined the Plainsmen craning over the edge to watch the tiny figures descend the Ladder to the chasm floor.

'What now?' Ravan asked.

Carnelian eyed the youth. 'We repair the Ladder.' 'And if we choose not to help you?' 'I won't need your help.' Fern's eyebrows rose.

Carnelian pushed his way past Ravan and walked along the chasm edge until he came to the tensioned cables of the sartlar ladder. Ravan, Fern and many of the other Plainsmen followed him.

'What're you doing, Carnie?' asked Fern.

'You'll see soon enough.' Carnelian hung himself on the nearest cable, then let it go. A satisfying quiver could be heard ratding down into the chasm.

'Where does this go?' Ravan asked, but Carnelian ignored him and pulled the cable down twice more. Then he waited. As time passed and nothing happened, he grew embarrassed. Carnelian pulled on the cable three times more in quick succession. He went to the edge and looked over. The rippling in the netting stilled, then nothing.

'What's going on?' Fern pleaded.

Carnelian confronted them. 'I'm trying to summon the sartlar the Master told me are lodged in caves beneath our feet.'

Ignoring their looks of disbelief, Carnelian turned his back on the fall, knelt on the chasm edge and, taking hold of the netting, lowered himself down.

The ladder was like rigging. Clambering down it, Carnelian snagged his foot often, so that each time he had to, precariously, disentangle it. He froze whenever he caught a glimpse of the rock face plunging away into the dizzying depths.

At last, reaching down and waving his foot around, Carnelian could find nothing but air. Peering down caused him to clutch the netting. There was nothing but space below him. Feeling a quivering in the netting, he looked up and saw Fern descending.

'What are you doing?' he called up.

Fern peered down. 'I'd have thought that was obvious. I'm coming with you.'

Carnelian sank his head with exasperation. The Master expressly forbade it.'

'He's not here though, is he?'