They rode across the island. The villages they came to had been abandoned but, though the roofs of their huts had been burned, the circles of their mud walls were still intact. Trees still shaded the paths. There were some dead, but these hung rotting from trees among ferngardens still fresh and green.
They waded water meadows following underwater roads whose routes were marked by posts. Eventually they came up out of the water, where a track led up to a ridge. It was only when they crested this that they saw, below, the black swathe of devastation branded deep into the earth. Soon they were once more riding through a grey land spined by charcoaled stumps, down avenues of the impaled dead. Where the dragons had passed they had left the earth scarred. The rest of the day was a slog along a black road made by flame-pipes.
In deepening dusk they made camp on the edge of a valley. While some Marula cleared the ground others began to erect a palisade. Osidian told Carnelian he wanted to talk. They passed through a perimeter of aquar being fed to the heart of the camp where Oracles were setting fires. At the centre of this space was a hearth already lit. Osidian sat down, his eyes on the flames teasing smoke from wood and dry ferns. When Carnelian joined him, Osidian proceeded to question him about the Lepers. Carnelian did not feel it a betrayal to tell him what he knew.
As he described the pitiful refugees he had witnessed, Osidian nodded. ‘They hate Aurum?’
‘Venomously.’
‘Could we use this hate? Would they fight for us?’
Carnelian did not like the direction Osidian was taking. ‘I told you already I saw no men, just women, children.’
‘Was my Lord then overpowered and captured by women or children?’
Carnelian had to admit that this was unlikely, though he had only indistinct memories of his capture.
‘You learned nothing else at all?’
Carnelian followed his instinct to pass on the information he had gleaned from Lily. ‘The Lepers told me the Ringwall above here has been closed.’
Osidian’s eyes pierced him. ‘How could they know this?’
Carnelian shrugged. ‘They told me word had come down the river to them.’ He saw how hard Osidian was taking this news. ‘You should not have waited here for me.’
Osidian regarded him, emotions shifting in his eyes. ‘It was already too late to reach the pass before Aurum.’
Carnelian was surprised to feel disappointment. Did he really want to believe that Osidian had chosen to abandon his campaign for love of him? He focused on what was important. ‘Then you know it’s hopeless.’
Osidian frowned. ‘We shall go on. We will reach the pass tomorrow.’
‘Why go on? If it is not Aurum who has closed the Ringwall then it is the Wise. Either way the Commonwealth will be impenetrable.’
Osidian’s birthmark folded deeper into his frown. ‘We shall see.’
Under the licking onslaught of the flames the tangle of firewood was collapsing.
Morunasa appeared. ‘Master, you wanted to check the perimeter.’
Osidian rose. He looked down at Carnelian. ‘Tonight I would rather that my Lord should sleep at my fire.’
It was the sadness in Osidian’s face that made Carnelian agree. He watched him move away with Morunasa, then turned back to the fire and saw in it a vision of what would happen should they try to force the Pass against dragons.
He punched the earth. ‘No!’
‘Who are you talking to, Carnie?’
It was Poppy approaching. Anxiety jumped from his face to hers. ‘What’s the matter?’
He reached out to catch her wrist. Drew her to his side. ‘Nothing.’
She looked at him, puzzled, then said: ‘Do you have dreams?’
He humphed. ‘Oh yes, I have dreams.’ But he did not want to talk about them, especially with her. ‘Where’s Fern?’
‘Out there,’ she said, pointing with her chin. ‘I left him with Krow.’
Carnelian smiled at her. ‘Krow’s turning out to be nicer than you thought, isn’t he?’
Poppy looked down, chewing her lip. ‘I suppose.’ She looked up. ‘I came here to tell you what’s been happening and to find out what you’ve been up to.’
‘You go first,’ he said.
She began describing what had happened on the night he was taken. ‘The Master’s rage was terrifying. He sent the Marula searching for you in all directions.’
Carnelian remembered her cries.
‘In the morning his rage had cooled, but it was still burning in his eyes.’
She gazed at him and he nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. ‘The Master said that, if the Lepers thought they’d suffered from Hookfork’s dragons, they’d soon learn they could suffer much worse at his hands. It was Fern who told him to go easy. He suggested we should use the terror they’d suffered to our advantage. Numbed by horror and loss, the Lepers might respond better to kindness.
‘I think it was seeing how frantic Fern was that made the Master listen to him.’
‘Frantic?’
‘Don’t let his coldness fool you, he was frantic.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Well, for one thing, the two of them worked on getting you back, together, like brothers.’
Carnelian found this overwhelming. Poppy saw the change come upon him and took his hand. ‘They both love you.’
By the time Osidian and Morunasa came back with some of the other Oracles Poppy had gone. Carnelian had been trying to work out how he felt. He watched Osidian approach and reminded himself of what he had done to the Ochre. Whatever else he felt, that could never be forgiven.
He addressed Osidian in Quya. ‘My Lord, is the perimeter secure enough to defend us against Aurum’s return?’
Osidian gazed at him as if he were holding an internal debate. ‘If he comes with huimur alone we can escape him.’
‘What if he has obtained more auxiliaries?’
‘Well, then we will find ourselves in a difficult position. Nevertheless my calculations suggest we still have a few days’ grace. Enough time, perhaps, to force our way up to Makar.’
The next morning, Carnelian, having saddled his aquar, went to look for Fern. He found him adjusting the girth on his saddle-chair. Fern glanced up as he approached, then returned to what he was doing. Carnelian watched him, searching for an opening to conversation.
‘Poppy told me how you worked with the Master to try and get me back.’
‘It was either that or watch him prey on some other poor bastards,’ Fern said, without turning.
Carnelian stared at his back. Desiring to touch him. ‘Was that the only reason?’ he said, then grimaced, longing to take the words back.
Fern whirled round. ‘What do you want from me?’
Carnelian could look into his brown eyes now. There was anger there, but also a vulnerability, as if Fern were caught in a trap he could not escape. Carnelian yearned to help him free himself, but did not know how. ‘I’m not sure.’
Lunging forward, Fern kissed him. ‘There. Do you feel better? Now both of us have proved we don’t care if you’re a leper.’
Carnelian stared. Fern vaulted into the saddle-chair, then touched his feet to the aquar’s neck. The creature rose, forcing Carnelian to step back. As he watched it pound away he frowned, confused.
After crossing a stretch of marshy water their march brought them up onto the hump of an island. For the rest of the morning they journeyed along its spine, keeping parallel to the silver band of the cliffs of the Guarded Land. They were still following Aurum’s ashen road.
The sun was at its highest when the land began to sink down into a vast swamp, on the other side of which they could see the gaping maw in the white cliff. Green land ran up into the narrowing throat, greying until it became the pale thread that led up to Makar.