The Standing Dead

He turned to Osidian. 'You know, Ebeny, my nurse? It seems certain to me she came from this tribe. Of all the koppies, that we should end up here…' Carnelian shook his head in wonder.

Osidian was looking at him as if he were listening to an echo.

Carnelian smiled remembering her. 'In my heart, she is my mother.'

Osidian's lips curved into a sneer. 'When will you realize, Carnelian, these sensibilities are an affectation? You are Chosen. Your persistent desire to hide from what you are is a delusion I find increasingly repulsive.'

Fear that Osidian might be right only made Carnelian despise his cold Master's face. 'Do you know, Imago Jaspar once said something very similar to me.'

At the sound of that name, Osidian's face became as rigid as a mask, but Carnelian did not care. He delved inside himself for the truth of what he felt and was sure his love for Ebeny was real.

'Besides,' he said, burning up in her defence, 'it is perhaps those very sensibilities that might secure sanctuary for us here.'

Osidian's face sagged. 'Here? How can you expect me to live here?’

Seeing the distress bleeding out of him, Carnelian could not sustain his anger. He remembered who Osidian had been. He remembered the pressure he had put on Osidian to go with him to the Yden one last time before the Wise made him God Emperor. Despair soaked through his confidence. He tried to rally.

'Even if we care nothing for ourselves, there are others we cannot abandon.'

'Your precious half-caste, for example?'

Carnelian was stunned. 'You mean Fern? That half-caste saved your life not once, but many times.'

'Do you hope to blind me by throwing that in my face? Do not play me for a fool, Carnelian, I have seen the way you two look at each other.'

Osidian's bitter words struck Carnelian like blows. 'I don't…' He shook his head. 'I really don't know what you are talking about.'

Osidian shrugged, then went seeking a shadow in which he might find refuge from the sun.

Carnelian was dozing in the shade when he heard a scuffle of feet approaching. Sitting up, he saw it was Fern with Akaisha, Harth and some other woman Elders. Carnelian nudged Osidian awake and rose to face them. He tried to read Fern's face. As their eyes meshed, Carnelian could not help considering what Osidian had said. Fern gave him a brave smile that was hiding some pain.

Harth stepped forward. 'You understand my words?' Concerned for Fern, Carnelian gave her a nod even as he realized Osidian had not bothered to get up.

'We have decided to postpone our decision as to what we are going to do with you. In the meantime, Mother Akaisha has offered to keep you in her hearth. You will be under her authority. The first time you disobey her you will both be put to death. What do you say?'

Carnelian glanced at Fern, then at Akaisha, who was searching his face as if she were looking for a sign.

From the sour look on Harth's face, Carnelian deduced it was Akaisha who had bought them a reprieve. 'Will the Tribe accept this arrangement?'

Harth raised an eyebrow. The Elders have accepted it. We are the Tribe.'

Halfway round the Crag, Akaisha took a rootstair down into the mottled shade of the cedar grove. Fern was giving her news of Ravan.

'He should have appeared at the hearth before you went to the Assembly.'

A shake of his mother's head made him scowl. She reached out to take his arm. 'Most likely he fears my grief.'

She half turned her head. 'We're nearly there.'

Carnelian nodded, but his attention was on a group of people under a nearby tree who had stopped everything to watch them pass.

'It is considered impolite to stare into another's hearth,' said Akaisha and looked surprised when he apologized.

Some children began following them, daring each other to run in close to the white giants. Osidian frowned, studiously ignoring their dash and screaming flight, until Akaisha turned on them. Her scolding sent them scuttling for cover. The gurgles of their furtive laughter made Carnelian smile and remember his own childhood.

'We're here,' said Fern gloomily, stepping from the stair onto the hillside.

A cedar spread its branches above them. Its trunk was the centre of the arc they walked, crossing the radiating ridges of its roots. Carnelian heard squeals of delight and saw some children chasing each other in and out of the shade. Ahead, Akaisha seemed to catch fire as she reached a space unroofed by the tree. Carnelian approached, narrowing his eyes against the dazzle. He stumbled over a root that ran across his path. He could smell the smoke but it was too bright to see the flames. As Carnelian's eyes adjusted, he saw a woman standing with two boys at the edge of the long, oval clearing.

'Whin, these Standing Dead are to be our guests for a while,' Akaisha said.

She turned to Carnelian. This is Whin, a daughter of my hearth who, next to me, is the nearest to the roots of our mother tree.'

Whin was possibly forty, though her weathered skin looked older. She regarded the Standing Dead with a severe face. To avoid her eyes, Carnelian looked at the boys, who were also staring, their cheeks flushed from the heat of the fire. He smiled and they smiled back. Sharply, Whin told them to resume stirring the earthenware pots sitting upon the embers.

Fern moved round the fire towards the woman, who lifted her hand. He touched his palm to hers and their fingers meshed.

'May our roots grow together,' both said.

Their hands fell.

'You are to be punished, Fern?'

Fern winced. 'For my sin against the Mother, I am to labour as a woman, Aunt Whin.' He sneaked a look at her face.

'You deserve worse,' she said, but her eyes warmed a little.

They grew cold when her gaze fell on the Standing Dead. 'Go, Fern, give our guests some bedding and let them choose hollows. I wish to speak to your mother alone.'

Fern seemed to be waiting for her to look back at him.

'Whin, has Ravan been here?' said Akaisha, anxiously.

'Ravan, your mother wants to see you,' cried Whin.

From the gloom gathering round the trunk of the cedar, Ravan emerged using his arm to shield his eyes from the glare. He came to a halt, looking at the ground.

'Son.'

Ravan glanced up at his mother and then saw the Standing Dead.

They're to stay with us a while,' she said.

Ravan's smile was dazzling as he gazed at Osidian. Carnelian noticed the momentary frown with which Akaisha observed this.

'It warms my heart to see you again, my son.'

Ravan disengaged his gaze from Osidian and looked at her.

Akaisha opened her arms. 'Will you not kiss me?'

Awkwardly, Ravan advanced into her embrace and planted a kiss on her cheek. Carnelian could see how unhappy they both were as they separated.

Whin looked over. 'Are you still here, Fern?'

Grunting something, Fern motioned for the Standing Dead to follow him. Ravan made to join them but Whin stopped him.

'You stay with us, dear.'

Uncomfortable, Carnelian followed Fern into the shadows, then up a hollow lying between two roots. Where the hollow narrowed into the trunk, it was packed with jars. Above their heads, ropes hugged packets and bundles to the bark. The shoulders of the branches were hung with coils of djada, with fernroot forming the rungs of ladders. Fern took hold of some loops of rope and pulled himself up into the tree. Carnelian watched him walk out along a branch and undo a bundle. He tugged two black blankets free, hesitated, tucked one back and pulled a russet one out instead.

'Catch,' he cried, then let them drop. Carnelian caught both. Fern landed on the ground beside them. Carnelian crushed the blankets with his chin so that he could look over them.