Thank you, my mother,' he said in Ochre, and Fern echoed him.
The Elder came close. 'You may have bewitched Akaisha but don't imagine the rest of us will leave this as it is.'
Carnelian withered. Her eyes lingered on him a while longer before she went off to join the other women washing themselves beyond the margin of blood-stained earth.
Fern's eyes shone bright in his filthy face. 'My mother will protect you.'
'You're a mess,' Carnelian said, trying to make light of it all.
Fern grinned at him.
Carnelian suddenly itched everywhere. 'I'm desperate to get clean.'
'We'll have to wait our turn,' Fern said, indicating the women with his chin.
'I suppose it's forbidden for us to go up there,' he said, looking with longing at the cedars on the hill.
Fern gave him a heavy nod. The mother trees may only drink their daughters' blood.'
They waited, tormented by itching, until they saw the women plodding back towards the Grove. He and Fern ran to take their place. His friend indicated a patch of dry, clean earth on which he wanted Carnelian to stand, then he rushed to fetch water and pluck some leaves from the Bloodwood Tree.
When Fern returned, Carnelian scrunched the leaves into a ball as he saw his friend do, dipped them in the bucket and then used them to scrub away at his skin. When they had done as much as they could unaided, Fern began doing Carnelian's back. Carnelian submitted to this and, when his friend asked, tried to explain how the scars running down either side of his spine showed the blood-taints of his father and mother.
When Fern was finished he gave Carnelian the leaf-ball. Fern took Carnelian's hesitation for pride. Unwilling to explain his feelings, Carnelian turned Fern and began rubbing at his back. The only other man he had ever done this for was Osidian.
They said nothing to each other as they made the weary climb up through the Grove. Carnelian's heart warmed as his eyes fell on the spreading beauty of what he allowed himself, for the first time, to consider his mother tree. When they reached the edge of her earth, they removed their shoes which they had done their best to clean. Both groaned with pleasure as they sank their feet into the fragrant carpet of needles. Side by side they headed for the hearth, where they could see people already gathering for the evening meal.
When Carnelian came to a halt, Fern stopped too. 'What's the matter?'
'Osidian,' Carnelian said bleak with the realization that he had almost forgotten him. He peered up towards the sleeping hollows. Shapes were moving there, but none that could have been Osidian. He remembered Fern and squeezed his shoulder. 'You go on ahead, I'll join you as soon as I can.'
Without waiting for an answer, he began climbing the slope. His steps faltered as he neared their hollow. He recalled the day spent with Fern, the intimacy of their washing, and felt he had already betrayed Osidian. He took the final steps and looked down into the hollow.
Osidian was lying in it asleep. For several heartbeats, Carnelian regarded him, moaning as his mind touched on a yearning that Osidian should not be there at all. The sound made Osidian stir. As he opened his eyes, Carnelian fought the desire to hide.
'Are you well?' he said with a voice that did not seem his own.
Osidian turned his head to look at him. Carnelian was transfixed by the green-eyed stare. He managed to find his tongue. 'Have you eaten?'
'You eat their filthy food, I will not.'
Carnelian saw the two cakes he had left there that morning were still untouched. The confusion of his emotions fused to anger. 'If you will not eat, my Lord, then you shall die.'
'So be it,' Osidian answered in an eerie voice. His eyes narrowed, seeing something behind Carnelian, then they closed.
Turning, Carnelian saw it was Fern.
'My mother sent me to fetch you.'
Carnelian turned back to Osidian. How much did his behaviour stem from jealousy? Carnelian felt wretched. 'Please come with us?'
Osidian seemed asleep. Carnelian tried to find an argument that might bring him back, but Fern's presence was making that impossible.
'What's the matter with your brother?' the Plainsman asked.
Carnelian turned on him. 'Nothing!'
Fern's shock at his tone upset Carnelian. Knowing Osidian was listening made Carnelian reluctant to apologize. He felt trapped between them. Unable to speak, he pushed past Fern and made off in the direction of the hearth.
Ignoring the stares, Carnelian marched up between the rootbenches towards the fire. There was a gap in the line of men and boys where he and Fern had sat the night before. Reaching it, he sat down and focused his gaze on his hands. Grime still clung to the fine cracks in his skin. He felt Fern brushing against him as he sat down. Carnelian busied himself prising rinds of dried blood from under his nails. The smell of iron evoked Osrakum; spilling into his mind the usual horror and yearning.
'Fern. Carnie.' His name was charming in Akaisha's accent. Carnelian raised his eyes and looked past Fern to the head of the hearth where she was smiling at them.
'We were told you worked hard today.'
Carnelian gave her a smile. Whin at her side was stony-faced.
'It's only the first day of many,' said Fern, gruffly.
Carnelian glanced round at him. A blush of ochre lingered on Fern's face. Their eyes locked. Carnelian was the first to disengage. He knew he could not explain his anger to him. A bad end to an otherwise promising day.
Across from him, Sil was regarding them both with a fixed concentration. Carnelian feared she was seeing how he felt towards her man. She looked weary. Traceries of red earth incised her arms and hands.
He tried a smile. 'You seem to have been working hard yourself.'
Sil stared for a moment, but her face softened to a lovely smile that made Carnelian warm to her. She gave a nod, then looked shyly down at her hands and then up at him. 'No doubt you'll find out yourself in time… Carnie.' She flashed a bright row of teeth. The repair of the ditches is a task the men share with us.'
Sil's friendliness smoothed some of the tension out of Carnelian's shoulders. He sank back into the domestic comfort of the hearth chatter as food was passed down the line. He saw again the thin Twostone girl and smiled at her.
When the girl had passed on, Carnelian leaned across to Sil. 'What's her name?'
Sil shrugged. 'She's not said a word since we found her living wild in her koppie.'
Fern interrupted them by putting the first bowl in Carnelian's hands. Turning, Carnelian offered it to Ravan. The youth scowled at him.
The Master's not eating?'
This was the last thing Carnelian wished to discuss. 'He's still recovering from his fever.'
'How's he going to get better if he doesn't eat?'
Carnelian offered the bowl again. 'Go on, take it.'
Ravan continued to scowl at him. Fern leaned out to look at his brother. Take the cursed thing. What's wrong with you?'
The youth turned his scowl on Fern.
'Ravan, do as your brother says,' Akaisha said, loudly. In response, her son snatched the bowl so violently it spilled half its contents over Carnelian. He jumped up, scalded. Fern leapt up.
'You stupid, little -'
'Sit down, all of you,' cried Akaisha.
Carnelian sat down and, glowering at each other, Ravan and Fern did so too. The passing of the bowls resumed. When Carnelian got his, he ate, wondering how long he could conceal Osidian's utter rejection of the Plainsmen.
Carnelian awoke gripped by fear. He struggled to order his thoughts. He had been dreaming he was with Fern watching Osidian die. Carnelian's hand found Osidian's body warm beside him. He listened for his breathing, but could hear only the sighing as the mother tree sifted the breeze through her needled canopy. Her voice was comforting. Through her roof there was a hint of dawn in the colour of the sky. He became aware of the sounds of the Tribe waking. He slipped out from under the blanket, being careful not to disturb Osidian. Carnelian sat for a moment with his arms crossed, rubbing his shoulders, peering at him lying in the hollow. He denied the memory of his dream. He assured himself Osidian would soon give up his fast. As he blew warmth into his hands, he smelled yesterday's blood. He had to go to work. He rose, his body aching all over, dressed, then padded towards the huddle of shapes around the hearth to share their warmth and to have breakfast.