MAKAR
The more intimately one knows a creature, the more perfectly one can design a snare to trap it.
The enemy dragons fled into the north – west. Carnelian watched Osidian’s approaching in a ragged line, signals blinking between them, their chimneys beginning to smoke. He was trying to identify which one was Heart-of-Thunder when his Lefthand spoke.
‘Master, our lookout claims the third tower to the north has sent an acknowledgement signal.’
For a moment Carnelian was distracted by the strange quality of the man’s voice. He realized every sound was coming to him as if he had his fingers in his ears. He focused on what the man had said. ‘Which tower?’ he asked, his voice sounding muffled so that it did not seem his own.
The legionary explained he had been referring to the tower to the north of the one whose gate they had broken down. Carnelian realized the implication. Only a signal it was sending south would have been visible to the lookout. Thus it was an acknowledgement to the tower to its south. The watch-tower he had failed to make secure had finally sent a message northwards. Already it was speeding towards Osrakum faster than an aquar could run and so beyond all catching. Before the end of that day the Wise would know everything that had happened.
One of Osidian’s dragons was heading straight for Earth-is-Strong. He was certain it was Heart-of-Thunder. He was composing a confession of his failure for transmission when Osidian’s tower began to wink. Carnelian stared at his Lefthand, impatient for the mirrorman above to relay his interpretation of the message. At last his Lefthand spoke. ‘From Heart-of-Thunder, Master. The Legate would like you to meet him for a conference on the ground.’
Carnelian had Earth-is-Strong brought to a halt. For some moments he watched Heart-of-Thunder easing towards them like a baran. Then, with a glance past the burning dragon to assure himself the enemy was still moving away, Carnelian bade his Righthand dowse the flame-pipes, then he rose and moved towards the ladder.
A dark figure appeared beneath the arch of Heart-of-Thunder’s belly accompanied by two men who seemed, by comparison, to be children. Carnelian recognized Osidian’s gait. ‘Are we safe from those huimur, my Lord?’
Osidian came closer before he answered. ‘I believe our friend the Great Lord is in full retreat.’
Carnelian knew to whom he referred and realized Osidian did not want to use his name. Their marumaga officers might not understand Quya, but the name Aurum was the same in both their languages.
‘Are you sure it is he?’
Osidian gestured for his officers to wait for him, then indicated the smouldering mound of the fallen dragon to Carnelian and, together, they walked towards it. ‘Who else could it be?’ he said, not turning his head.
Carnelian had no alternative to offer, but he found this flight untypical of the Lord he knew. ‘Why does he retreat?’
Osidian swirled his hand. ‘Possibly he seeks to regroup. Your attack must have come as a nasty surprise to him.’
Carnelian was unconvinced. ‘Still, he had your whole line at the mercy of his pipes.’
Osidian half turned to him, then away. ‘A reaction to the shock of the explosion, perhaps…’
Carnelian eyed the dragon corpse. The smell of its charring flesh was drifting on the air. ‘Perhaps…’ Doubt nagged him.
‘You failed to take your tower.’
‘I saw Aurum bearing down on you. Would you rather I had let him torch you?’
Osidian turned, lifting his hands in a gesture of appeasement. ‘I am not accusing you, Carnelian. Even with your intervention, I had only just managed to turn my huimur. Less than half had managed to light their pipes. Even those were not ready to fire.’ He paused and his head sank a little. ‘Had you not slowed him with your attack, I would have been overwhelmed…’
Carnelian sensed how hard it had been for Osidian to admit his debt to him. It was as close as Osidian would come to saying thank you. The nagging doubt emerged into Carnelian’s mind as a clear realization. ‘He was slowing before he knew I was there.’
Osidian stopped in mid stride. ‘You cannot be sure he did not see you.’
‘His whole line stopped.’
Osidian began a protest, but then understood. ‘He sent no signals.’
‘Though he may have seen me approaching, do you believe it possible his whole line should have done so and at one and the same time?’
‘What other explanation do you have?’
‘It was prearranged.’
‘To what end?’
Carnelian squinted at the burning dragon. He was shaking his head. It came to him. ‘He wished to give you time to light your pipes. So that-’
‘So that I could repulse him! But why? Why set an ambush, then allow yourself to be defeated?’
Carnelian tried, but failed to work it out. This behaviour, though still uncharacteristic of Aurum, was now more believable. ‘The trap he has set for us must be more subtle.’
Both pondered this further as they came as close as they could bear to the dragon corpse. That burning hill seemed too vast to have ever been a living being. Rather it seemed an outgrowing of the earth itself, an abscess ripe to bursting. Carnelian was not sure whether it was this sight, the stench of cooking meat and blood, or unease that was making him queasy. ‘There is something else I do not understand.’
Osidian turned to him, his mask reflecting the gory mess. For a moment Carnelian was mesmerized by that strange and lurid face that once again seemed to have come from his dreams.
‘What?’ the apparition said.
The sound of Osidian’s voice jolted Carnelian. He marshalled his thoughts. ‘Before sending a message north the tower made several attempts to communicate south.’
‘You are certain it did not first send one to Osrakum?’
Carnelian could hear the unease in Osidian’s voice. ‘Quite certain.’
Both turned to look at where Makar was an encrustation on the edge of the land.
‘What could be there?’ muttered Osidian almost inaudibly.
‘Or who?’ said Carnelian.
Osidian dismissed the city with a gesture as if he was trying to wipe it from the earth. ‘Perhaps the tower was responding to some earlier command of Aurum’s.’ He indicated the nearest tower with a contemptuous hand. ‘The creatures who operate these are slavish to their instructions.’
Carnelian sensed Osidian’s conviction was hollow. A drumming in the ground alerted them to a rider approaching. An Oracle, by his robes. The man pulled the aquar up and quickly dismounted. By his movements it was recognizably Morunasa.