His friend glanced at Poppy. Tonight is Skai's Tithing Feast. Tomorrow, he leaves for the Mountain.'
The girl took his hand and clung to it. Sharing the pain, Carnelian was relieved his friend's eyes held no blame.
Together they wandered up past the rows of drag-cradles.
There's a lot of djada, isn't there, Poppy?' Carnelian said. The girl gave the merest nod.
'It'll have to feed us all until we return, as well as the aquar on the journey,' said Fern.
'How long will we be away?'
Fern shrugged. 'Until the Rains come: between four and five moons.'
Carnelian squeezed Poppy's hand. 'It'll be quite an adventure, won't it?' She gave him a watery smile.
He and Fern continued making conversation about the migration as they passed under the Old Bloodwood Tree. The ferngarden on the other side of the Outditch was black and barren.
'I can't get used to the stench of burning.'
The Rains will wash it away,' said Fern.
His friend's blank expression made Carnelian certain Fern was thinking about his daughter. Carnelian walked the rest of the way brooding about whether he would survive to suffer the day of Poppy's Tithing Feast.
They did not hear the usual talk and laughter as they approached the hearth. Instead there was a murmur, as if people were afraid of making echoes. They formed two rows of shadows enclosing the fire glow. One rose; it was Akaisha coming to meet them.
'We've been waiting for you,' she whispered, then led them back towards the hearth.
As Carnelian came fully into the firelight, he made a smile for all the sad faces ruddy in its glow. There was one among them he had not expected to see.
'Ravan,' he gasped. 'Have the others returned with you…?'
Vestiges of hunting paint deepened the shadows around the youth's eyes. They choose to remain with the Master.'
Then why are you here?' said Fern.
'I've come as the Master's emissary.'
Fern snorted a laugh. '"Emissary?" Do you really believe you're going to impress anyone with those airs?'
Ravan reddened. 'I suppose you consider yourself fit to speak for the Tribe. I would've thought the past season hardly prepared you for anything better than carrying offal.'
Fern's murderous advance on Ravan was stopped by Akaisha's voice. 'Shut up, both of you! You shame me even more than you shame yourselves. Have you forgotten whose night this is?'
Fern paled and returned to his place. Ravan remained standing, not even looking at his mother, still glaring at his brother.
'Sit down,' Akaisha hissed through her teeth.
Ravan glanced at her, then shrugged before dropping insolently onto the bench. Separating from Poppy, Carnelian waited to see her in her place, then he walked round Ravan to sit beside Fern. Sil was watching her husband with concern. Akaisha was looking down at her lap. When she lifted her head sorrow was softening her face.
'Whin, dear, will you be first?'
As Whin rose, Carnelian saw Skai sitting where the rootbenches met; Akaisha's traditional place. Leaning over the pot, Whin ladled some of its contents into a bowl. She held it up to Skai and looked at him through her tears.
'My heart will ache for you for ever, my little one.'
Carnelian watched as one by one his hearthkin took the bowl, put a little more broth into it and pledged him their love. Then Akaisha told Carnelian it was his turn. He glanced at Whin, at the boy's parents. He was overcome that they should show no hatred for him on such a terrible day. It was all he could do to manage the ritual without spilling the bowl along with his tears.
Beneath the Crying Tree, the Tribe formed a ring around the five tithe children and the men and women who were to accompany them to the Mountain. Appraising the gathering with a Master's eye, Carnelian saw a crowd of unkempt savages standing around a brown-leafed tree among the ashes of a dying land. In their midst the tithe children seemed a beggarly tribute to pay the Lords of the Three Lands in Osrakum. Carnelian looked around him at the dark faces and saw their human pain. Shame crushed his false aloofness. It was in his blood, his bones, that he felt the value of what was being given up. These children were flesh torn living from the body of the Tribe. It only took the thought that the following year Poppy would be standing there for him to be suffering with them. He drew her closer to his side.
'Why is he here?' cried a woman's voice.
Harth, pointing at Carnelian, drew the eyes of the Tribe to him. He broke into a sweat. Akaisha clasped his shoulder.
'As a member of my hearth, Carnie has as much right as any to be here.'
Fern and Sil, holding each other and their baby, both gave him a solemn nod. Whin's bleak eyes saw nothing but her grandson.
Scowling, Harth looked away. Beside her Crowrane kept his glare fixed on Carnelian but people were turning back to the tithe children.
'We go, fathers and mothers,' said the men and women standing beside them. 'We go, brothers and sisters.'
Those going looked at those remaining and they in turn looked back. Ash floated in the air like infernal snow.
'Son,' a father cried and ran in to embrace one of the children. His action released many others. People streamed across the divide; the sound of their grief a winter wind.
Ginkga, her voice none too steady, commanded that they must all face this bravely. The ring re-formed slowly. The sobbing died to a groaning, then to a rocking of heads. Aquar were brought laden with djada, fernroot as well as cone-nuts and die other few luxuries the Tribe had managed to hoard for this day. Solemn-faced, Harth held aloft a loaf of salt which she showed to the Tribe.
The blood of our men,' she said, then wrapped the loaf lovingly in an oiled cloth before handing it to one of the tribute-bearers. A gap appeared in the further curve of the ring and the tributaries moved out through it. The whole Tribe walked with them across the Poisoned Field and down to the Outditch, where the tributaries had to wait for them all to cross. They followed them across the blackened ferngarden to the Newditch and out onto the gold of the plain.
The whole Tribe stood watching as the aquar carrying their tribute took the first steps of their long journey to the distant Mountain. Looking back with tear-striped dusty faces, the children were soon lost beyond a veil of dust.
The Tribe buried their grief in the feverish final preparations for leaving. Carnelian went down with Fern and others to the djada field to fetch the packs their hearthmates would be carrying on the migration. Poppy aside, the children did not seem haunted by the hearth's loss and ran around in shrill excitement. Whin and her sisters frowned, but most looked on indulgently, glad these at least they had kept. Carnelian felt people were trying not to look at him.
Most of the cooking pots had been stowed and so that night they had the first meal of what promised to be many of djada washed down with a mouthful of water. The taste brought back to Carnelian memories of his journey from the Guarded Land. These forced Carnelian to confront his feelings for Osidian and what he was doing. Ravan had returned to him that morning. Carnelian shared the Tribe's desperation to see their young men return safely. All day he had been finding it difficult to stay silent when he saw the accusing looks the Elders were getting from everyone. Time was running out. Osidian must return. It was inconceivable he had not planned for this. There was hope in Ravan's visit. Surely he had come to bring the Elders some proposal from the Master, but if they had come to any arrangement, they were keeping it to themselves.
He looked for Akaisha in the root fork and found it was empty. He leaned close to Fern.
'Where's your mother gone?'
'Preparing the guardians for the Grove gates.'
'Guardians?' Carnelian said, wondering who was being left behind.
'Huskmen.'
Carnelian rose. 'Where will I find her?'