Carnelian feared Morunasa would launch himself into Fern, but instead he seemed lost in thought. Fern’s rage was spreading to the other Plainsmen. As people realized the Marula were trapped in the Earthsky with no hope of reinforcement they began to list the killing they had carried out during Osidian’s conquest; the men they had tortured on their Isle of Flies. The Plainsmen were turning into a mob that looked to Fern to lead them. He was still glaring at Morunasa. ‘There’re ten of us to every one of you, Maruli.’
Though Morunasa did not react, the other Oracles moved around him, baring their teeth at the Plainsmen, hissing. Transfixed, Carnelian considered letting the Plainsmen destroy them. If the Marula had been dangerous before, desperate they were doubly so, but he remembered Sthax’s remorse and that most of the Marula had had little choice but to collaborate with Osidian. Pushing in between Fern and Morunasa, he rounded on the baying mob. ‘Turning upon each other will only make us easier prey for Hookfork. I’ve no more liking for these Marula than you but, deprived of the Upper Reach salt, their people will perish.’ He glanced at Fern. ‘That seems enough revenge for now.’
He became aware Morunasa was regarding him malevolently. Carnelian remembered the promise he had made to him that day. He gazed round at the Plainsmen. ‘Besides, if it hadn’t been for the Marula today the Master would’ve fallen into Hookfork’s hands and you and all your people would be doomed. In the coming days we’ll have need of all the strength we can muster.’
He turned back to Morunasa. ‘Will you throw in your lot with us?’
The man gave Carnelian an almost imperceptible nod. Carnelian knew he had merely postponed the confrontation between them. He pulled back. ‘He says yes.’
The Plainsmen confronted him with silence.
‘Who among you will follow me north?’
No one moved, no one spoke. A chill spread across Carnelian’s chest. He had nothing left to say that might persuade them. Lit by the embers, their faces had taken on the colour of the coming bloodbath.
Fern appeared at his side, arm outstretched. ‘All day I’ve had the murderer of my child, my wife, my mother, my kin, the destroyer of all my tribe, within my grasp.’ He closed his fingers into a fist. His hand opened again. ‘And yet he still lives. I’ve spared him because I have faith in this Master.
‘I don’t speak to you for my own sake, for all that I’ve loved is lost.’ Fern’s gaze lingered on Carnelian. ‘I speak because my mother, even as she was being strung up by that bastard’ – Fern stabbed his finger at Osidian, his face deadened with hatred – ‘sent me a plea that I should stay alive long enough to help you all survive what she feared was coming.’
Many shrank back from his baleful glare. ‘This even though, when she and my tribe sent you back your hostage children and begged you all to rise with them against the Master, you chose instead to stay at home like cowards.’ Few there were able to return Fern’s gaze. He indicated Carnelian. ‘Follow him or else prepare yourselves for the destruction of all you love.’
Bathed in red light the Plainsmen looked at each other and a few at first, then all, gave Carnelian and Fern reluctant nods of agreement.
Half-sleeping, tortured by dreams, Carnelian was woken by a murmur from the ferngardens below. Rising, he walked to the edge of the summit. A glimmering mass was funnelling into the western rim of the koppie: the Darkcloud tribe arriving at last. It was a relief to see them reaching safety. The torches they carried must have been a poor defence against the raveners prowling the night. He did not want to consider the losses they might have suffered. He reassured himself his decision to bring them here had been the right one. Even if the council had not agreed to his plan, coming to the koppie of the Bluedancing was the best chance the Darkcloud had of making their escape east to the mountains.
He returned to where Fern was crouched, gazing north. His friend had chosen to take the first watch. Carnelian wrapped his blanket more tightly round himself and sank down beside him. Fern’s back was ochred by the light of the embers. He looked round and their eyes met. Seeing Fern’s bleakness, Carnelian yearned to share his blanket with him as they had once done, but Fern turned away.
Carnelian tried to let the bitter night numb the pain. He sought solace in the stars, in the faint gleam in the east that presaged moon dawn. The rest of the earth was black. Aurum’s camp had dimmed so much it took him a while to locate it. The distance that lay between them was some comfort. He drew his blanket up to cover his ears and thought about the next day. His much-reviewed plan seemed stale, improbable. What was he going to do with the Marula? Curse Osidian for having sent Krow to cut down the anchor baobabs. He saw the sartlar chopping at them with their flint axes. That made him remember what he himself had said to Kor the day he had left the Upper Reach: cut the trees down in ten days’ time unless you hear from me. The cold night penetrated to his bones. He had been so focused on reaching the Koppie. Then the massacre and the burials had put it clean from his mind. If Osidian had not ordered it, most likely it would have happened anyway. Try as hard as he might to escape it, it always came down to this: he and Osidian were alike. He could no more be free of being a Master than the Plainsmen could escape their oppression.
RAVENERS
With the odour of her blood
She seduced him into devouring her.
‘ We can’t wake him.’
Carnelian opened his eyes. It was a moment before he recognized it was Fern’s voice. ‘What?’
‘The Master won’t wake.’
Carnelian rose, hugging his blanket against the cold. The hem of the sky was blue, but the sun had still to rise. He followed Fern to where Osidian was lying. Crouching, he took Osidian’s shoulder and shook it. Only the slight twitches at the corners of Osidian’s mouth and eyes showed he was alive. Darkcloud who had gathered were gazing down at him anxiously. Carnelian sent one to fetch Morunasa.
Fern was regarding Osidian with an expression Carnelian could not read. Carnelian was also in turmoil. If Osidian died they would still be able to draw Aurum north, but his corpse might not be sufficient incentive for the old Master to quit the Earthsky. Aurum might choose to cool his wrath with blood. Carnelian reflected that Osidian near to death might rid them of Aurum even faster: fear of losing his prize would make Aurum speed back to Osrakum in the hope that the Wise might revive him. He became aware of how these calculations were masking his emotions. He was thinking like a Master. He gazed down at Osidian. Feeling the vestige of their love rising in him, he turned away. Poppy was there, watching him. He suddenly had a need to be alone. He made for the northern edge of the summit, wanting to see his enemy.
No predawn light had yet reached Aurum’s camp. Carnelian looked down to the ferngardens. Smoke was rising here and there in lazy spirals. He whirled round and, seeing one of the Darkcloud, cried out: ‘You there.’
The man came running.
‘Go down there and tell them to put out those fires.’
As the man sped off, Carnelian felt a hand on his arm and turned. It was Poppy. What was he going to do with her?
‘They’re only making breakfast to see us off,’ she said.
‘I want this place to seem dead enough that Hookfork won’t believe we’ve left anyone behind.’
Gazing at her he knew what he must do, though it would break his heart. There was no place for her in Osrakum. Besides, he could not afford the vulnerability. ‘I’ll talk to the Elders of the Darkcloud. They’ll take care of you until Fern returns. Then you can both choose to stay there or to join some other tribe.’
Expecting tears he was not ready for her icy anger. ‘You and Fern are the only kin I feel I have left. Do you really think I’ll let you leave me behind?’ Though her body was a girl’s she was glaring at him with a woman’s eyes.