‘Even now she swells powerful on your suffering. We too have cause to hate her, child. Though it is her son who wears the Masks, it is she who rules. This is why we have sought to bring Nephron to Osrakum alive. If he accuses her, we can pull her down.’
‘And then you would have him slain and use his blood to anoint his brother’s Masks.’
‘That is the Law.’
‘The Law.’
‘Without it, there would be chaos.’
Carnelian sensed how the Grand Sapient lusted to have Osidian in his power. Though his heart misgave at what he must do, he could not pass up this chance to negotiate while he still could. ‘I will give him to you, but I have a price…’
‘Name it.’
‘Your vow that the Wise will take no vengeance on the barbarians who have been involved in this affair; not one of them is to be harmed.’
The Grand Sapient leaned forward again as if peering at Carnelian, who endured the regard of those eyepits. The Grand Sapient’s silence was more terrible than his borrowed voice. He remained motionless for so long, hope began to well up in Carnelian that was almost enough to eclipse his ache at the thought of betraying Osidian.
At last the fingers started moving at the homunculus’ throat. ‘You ask nothing for yourself?’
Almost Carnelian answered: This is for myself, but his heart warned him against it. Instead he considered what might happen to him once he had given them Osidian. In the Three Lands, there was only one place he could live. He imagined returning to Osrakum. Hope lit in him that he could save his father. Mentally, he shook his head. It was already too complicated. Ykoriana’s fall would have to be enough upon which to build his father’s return to supremacy in their coomb.
‘Nothing,’ he said.
The Grand Sapient seemed to regard him for an age. Carnelian felt that he could almost see the thoughts flitting through that mutilated head.
‘Of course I cannot accede to your request. The Commonwealth depends for her existence on terror. Without this, her fabric would unravel. Her subjects must know the Law to be absolute. They must have no doubt whatever that their transgressions will be punished mercilessly. To pardon even one of these barbarians their sins would be to put the Commonwealth into greater peril than that which you and the Lord Nephron pose.’
Carnelian’s hope was quenched by flooding disappointment, but he felt also relief. ‘Then you leave me no choice, my Lord.’ He could not pretend to play the game further. ‘I will fight you, though I do not know how or to what end it will bring me.’
The Grand Sapient’s fingers kneaded instructions into the homunculus’ neck. ‘Then Nephron’s fall shall encompass your own.’ The pale hands let go the creature’s throat and the Grand Sapient folded them over his chest.
Carnelian stared. The Grand Sapient resembled nothing as much as he did a huskman. Certainly, he seemed no more alive. Carnelian backed away, then turned and made his way back to the stair. He was relieved that he did not have to betray Osidian, but the greatest comfort was the removal of doubt. At least now he knew exactly who to fight.
‘He has to come,’ Carnelian muttered to himself. He had persuaded Sthax to go and fetch Fern from the cothon. The Maruli had wanted to know what was going on, but Carnelian could not even begin to explain. In the end he had told him that he did not know. He had not lied. The only thing he was certain of was that he could not handle Legions on his own. Osidian must be informed of his discovery. Carnelian had considered making the journey to see him, but he did not dare leave the Grand Sapient unattended. Were Legions to emerge from the vault Carnelian was not confident he could stop Aurum’s household obeying him. He could not trust the quaestor, who was the Grand Sapient’s creature, and to send Sthax with a letter would be to expose him to the scrutiny of Morunasa.
He gazed anxiously towards the outer door. Fern had to come. There was no one else he could trust, no one who had such a good chance to get through to Osidian.
He peered through the haze of myrrh smoke rising from censers into the corner of the chamber. Several times already he thought he had seen movement there. A smothered gleam that might have been a homunculus mask or the shadows coalescing into the sinister form of the Grand Sapient. Carnelian was frantic that Legions would escape. He wished he had had the presence of mind to look for other exits from the vault. He could go down there now, but he feared the Grand Sapient’s voice, his logic, his power of command. He had no illusions. He had managed to withstand the Grand Sapient’s arguments only because his mask of reasonableness had slipped momentarily to reveal the bleak mercilessness behind.
He glanced again towards the outer door. What was taking Fern so long? His gaze was drawn, unwillingly, back to the dark corner. He remembered the capsules. Those could not be native to this fortress. A creeping horror rose in him as he contemplated how the Grand Sapient might have travelled here in one. And who were his two companions? And was it a coincidence that he should have ended up occupying a chamber directly above the vault? He shuddered as again he imagined the Grand Sapient standing over him as he slept. Shuddered as he imagined those pale fingers touching him while he dreamed dark dreams.
When Fern entered, Carnelian could only stare. He seemed smaller than Carnelian remembered. A little older? He reminded himself that it was amazing Fern was there at all. The scars the fire had left on the side of his neck were like the baroquing on Ichorian armour. Carnelian wondered if it was the sartlar salve that had healed them so well. Though he could not see his shoulder and arm, Fern did not seem to him disfigured. Indeed, Carnelian was only too aware of how even the Leper shrouds could not conceal how well made he was.
‘Kneel, barbarian,’ an ammonite hissed.
Carnelian had forgotten the ammonites who had entered before Fern. He must remember where he was; who he was. He dismissed them with a harsh hand. They turned their masks to him, hesitated, but then retreated, bowing. He held his breath until they had left and closed the doors behind them. It was only then he became aware Fern was staring at him. He felt his gaze like a blow. His entire body reacted. He wanted so much to approach him, to touch him. The grim intensity in Fern’s eyes would have been enough to stay him even had he not proceeded to reinforce the difference in their rank. ‘Master.’
He did not even bow his head, so that the word had not a hint of subservience, but only a defiance that filled Carnelian with a wrenching fear for him. Brass glimmering at his throat was even worse. That collar proved Fern a deserter from the legions, which on its own rendered his life forfeit. Carnelian breathed deep, centring himself. The business he had summoned him for must be transacted as briskly as possible. ‘I need you to go to the Master and take him a message.’
Grateful for Fern’s tiny nod, Carnelian found he was remembering how much Osidian hated him. Then there was the second agreement the Lepers had made with Osidian of which Carnelian knew nothing at all. ‘Do you know of any new reason why it might be dangerous for you to go and see the Master?’
Fern’s expression did not change. ‘Should there be?’
‘You know perfectly well how he feels about you!’
Fern scowled. ‘He and I are certainly not the best of friends.’
Carnelian used the fear he felt for him to dowse his anger. He glanced into the dark corner, then, turning back, removed his mask. It was a risk, but he felt that if they did not talk man to man, they risked much more. ‘Tell me what you know about this second agreement the Lepers have made with the Master.’
Fern’s defiance softened and that, for some reason, relit Carnelian’s anger. ‘How can I help them unless I know what’s going on?’
‘They’ve come up to fight Aurum.’
‘But the Master had already promised to give him to them.’
The corners of Fern’s mouth tightened. ‘He persuaded them that he could not succeed without their help.’