The Standing Dead - Stone Dance of the Chameleon 02 (19 page)

They must be done,' said Ravan.

It took some moments for his words to break their huddling circle. Carnelian felt he was coming slowly awake. With a broom they had improvised, the Plainsmen brushed the embers aside and then the smouldering earth. With much yelping and a jerking back of hands to lick burnt fingers, they plucked off the blackened fronds, releasing delicious steam. The youths produced a stack of little mats they had woven and with these to protect their hands, they fished out pieces of meat and passed them round. Ravan made certain it was he and not Krow who offered Osidian a portion.

Carnelian began eating with the others. Silence fell, interspersed with grunts of pleasure. Carnelian closed his eyes to better savour every mouthful.

'This must be the most delicious food I have ever tasted,' he said, the juices running down his chin.

When Fern translated what he said, Carnelian was rewarded with grins and looks of pride. He looked round and saw Osidian's food lying untouched in his hand and that he was squinting into the heart of the fire. When he spoke, everyone jumped.

'How do you plan to get to your homes?'

'We must go east until eventually -'

'On
foot
?’
said Loskai.

Fern looked grim. 'Have you a better idea?'

Loskai glared at Fern, who Carnelian could see was unhappy about the effect the confrontation was having on the others. He decided he would try to break the impasse.

'Fern, you were saying that if we go east we would eventually end up .
..
where?'

His friend gave him a look of gratitude. 'At the Backbone, which we can follow to the Twostone.'

Krow looked up eagerly and Fern smiled at him. 'Once there, our kin tribe will lend us aquar to get us home.'

Krow smiled as he nodded, but then his smile fell away and Carnelian guessed the youth was imagining the day when he would have to tell his tribe about Cloud's death.

'...
and, besides, they'll have news of our tributaries,' Ravan was saying and glanced over at Osidian.

'Describe this "Backbone",' he said. 'It is the Mother's own that rises out from her earth.' 'Do you mean a basalt ridge running deep into the south?'

'Basalt?' Fern frowned at the strange word. 'Black stone,' said Osidian.

Fern broke into a nod. 'Yes, it runs straight and true further south even than our koppie.'

Carnelian saw the calculation in Osidian's eyes. 'You knew of this already?'

Barely glancing at him, Osidian momentarily dipped his chin, then turned his fiery eyes upon Fern. 'Your destination lies near this Backbone?' He waited just enough time for Fern to nod before continuing his interrogation. He wanted to know how long the Plainsmen took, once they had descended from Makar, to cross the Leper Valleys to the Earthsky and, from there, how long a ride it was to the koppie of the Twostone. The other questions Osidian asked, Carnelian deduced, must be designed to determine the pace at which these journeys were carried out.

Osidian smiled. 'Why then not go directly to the Twostone koppie?'

'Because, Master, we have no idea how far south we are,' said Loskai, triumphantly.

'Can you not judge by looking at the cliff of the Guarded Land?' asked Carnelian.

Fern shook his head. This part of the Earthsky is foreign to both the Ochre and the Twostone.'

'I shall need two spears,' said Osidian.

They stared at him, recognizing the tone as that of their guide through the madness of the forest. They had grown used to obeying it.

When Osidian had his spears he laid them across his knees and, taking a blade from Ravan, began to gouge regularly spaced notches along their lengths. Carnelian could only stare with the rest. No better than they could he imagine what Osidian had in mind.

When Osidian walked off into the darkness carrying the two notched spears, Carnelian followed him. Hearing footfalls, he turned to see Ravan silhouetted against the fire.

Til go with him. There's no need for you to come.'

'You don't understand the dangers, Master,' said Ravan.

The youth had a point. Glancing round, Carnelian saw Osidian was already far enough away to be almost invisible in the night.

He turned back to Ravan. 'We'll be all right. You stay here.'

Sensing that the youth was on the verge of rebellion, Carnelian considered explaining to him that Osidian was in a dangerous mood. A stubbornness in the set of Ravan's shoulders suggested he would not be amenable to argument.

'Do what you're told,' Carnelian said, more harshly than he intended, causing the youth to shrink back. Carnelian would have apologized except he feared he would end up trapped in a discussion. Instead, he turned his back on Ravan and set off after Osidian.

When he caught up with him, Osidian was working one of the spears into the ground.

'What are you doing?' Carnelian asked.

Osidian looked up. 'Good. You can help me.' He walked around the spear adjusting it slightly. He looked at Carnelian.

'Is it vertical?'

Carnelian moved round it. 'Seems to be.' Osidian pointed to a point halfway up the spear. 'Hold it here.'

When Carnelian hesitated, Osidian, stooping, took hold of his right wrist. Carnelian allowed his hand to be positioned on the spear. 'Make a fist about it.'

Carnelian complied. Osidian took some steps away, lifted the other spear, rested its haft on Carnelian's fist and asked him to hold it in place. Osidian held the other end and raised it until it was level.

There should be a gouge near your fist.'

Carnelian searched for it and found it; one larger than the others. Osidian slid the spear towards Carnelian until the gouge lay above his fist.

'Is it a perfect cross?' Osidian asked.

The spears intersected at Carnelian's fist. After some adjustment, Carnelian declared they met at right angles. Being careful not to move the spear out of alignment, Osidian crouched and looked along it.

'What are you doing?' asked Carnelian, increasingly exasperated.

'Sighting the horizon.'

Carnelian turned and looked to the north where the starry sky ended in blackness. 'Why?' 'Let your fist slide down a little.' Carnelian complied.

Osidian nodded. "That's good. Now with your other hand, hold the top of the spear.'

As Carnelian did this, Osidian continued to speak. 'I am trying to determine the height of the axis stars.'

Carnelian stared up at the sky. The axis stars?'

Osidian loosed one hand to point. That pair, just above the horizon.'

Carnelian followed the pointing finger and, with some more help from Osidian, found the stars.

'Of course, this instrument is laughably primitive
...
Let your right fist slide a little down the spear.'

Carnelian did so.

'Not so far.'

Carnelian
moved
his fist up a little. 'A little
more.' Carnelian obliged.

The Wise use finely calibrated cross-staves.' He whistled softly. Their books do not lie: this far south the stars do sit very low.'

'What does it matter?'

Their height will tell us how far south we are.' Carnelian frowned. 'Sorcery?'

Osidian chuckled. 'Of a sort. The sky turns around the axis stars. The Wise say it is the suspension point of the carapace. The earth is formed on the dome of the lower half of the shell of the Turtle. The further south one is, the shallower the angle at which one views the axis stars.'

Osidian had Carnelian check the cross was perfect and then Carnelian had to adjust his right fist a little. 'Now, stay perfectly still.'

Osidian carefully lifted the horizontal spear off Carnelian's lower hand and came to peer at the vertical one. Carnelian flinched when Osidian produced a blade. He lifted it so that it touched Carnelian's upper hand and there cut a mark into the spear shaft. He did the same just above Carnelian's lower hand.

'You can let go now.'

Carnelian did so and stepped back as Osidian plucked the spear free. He lifted it up and peered at it. Carnelian could see his lips were moving.

'You're counting?'

The notches.'

'And?'

'There were almost exactly five between your fists.'

'Which means?'

The angle is five twentieths.'

Carnelian made a noise of exasperation that caused Osidian to look up from the spear.

The Labyrinth in Osrakum is eight twentieths, nine four-hundredths and fifteen eight-thousandths.' 'Blood fractions?'

'Quyan fractions which are used for describing the blood taint but which here indicate the inclination of the axis stars.'

'Did we not already know we were far to the south of Osrakum?'

'We did, but now we also know exactly how far south we are. If my memory serves, Makar is close to the most southerly point of the Guarded Land, which I recall to be five twentieths and eighteen four-hundredths. Estimating distances from what the barbarian told me, the reading we have just taken suggests we are north of our destination.'

'Which means?'

'Which means, my Lord, we shall proceed across this plain a little south of east.'

'What if we miss the Twostone koppie?'

'No matter. We cannot miss the basalt ridge. Once we reach that, the barbarians should be able to lead us the rest of the way.'

Carnelian looked back where the fire was glowing in among the Plainsmen like a candle in a lamp. Osidian gathered up the spears.

'Let us go and inform the barbarians of the good news.'

'How can you
possibly
know where we are when we do not know ourselves?' asked Loskai.

Osidian smiled coldly. 'I know many things you do not.'

Fern grimaced as he saw Krow and others nodding. 'With respect, Master, you've never been here before.'

'Nevertheless, barbarian, I know the direction in which the koppie of the Twostone lies.'

Loskai scowled at the fire. This is ridiculous,' he grumbled in the Ochre tongue.

Ravan turned his glare from Carnelian to Loskai. The Master did find a way across the swamp.'

Loskai scowled, his mouth opening to say something. He closed it, shook his head and turned back to the flames.

Ravan allowed himself a tiny smile of triumph and then made it his business to interpret for the others. Carnelian could see how eagerly they listened. Fern sunk his head in thought. When he next looked up he could not be blind to the hope shining from the face of every youth. He fixed Osidian with doleful eyes.

'It seems that again we are to follow you, Master.'

Enough rain fell during the night to wash the world away. The struggle to keep the fire going was quickly lost and, with it, any pretence they had of being protected from raveners. Shivering, Carnelian huddled with the Plainsmen, his nostrils filled with the reek of wet charcoal, water running down his back. Through the downpour the cries of monsters kept making him lift his head to search the blackness, imagining their shapes coalescing, lumbering towards them with malicious gluttony in their eyes.

When first light came they were cheated of far sight by a vapour rising from the earth. It was Osidian who made them set off. They grumbled, but were soon glad of the movement for it drove the chill from their bodies.

Ravan and Krow at his side, Osidian led them into the south-east where the sun peered at them blindly through the drifting mist. They swam through ferns laden with dew. Each swishing frond lashed water over them until the angles of elbows and knees could be seen pushing through the sodden cling of their robes and cloaks. They came into a region where the spiral heads of the ferns swung menacingly above their heads. Roots tangled their feet. Their curses sounded as if they were being uttered in the confines of a room.

When Carnelian saw shapes looming out of the mist, hovering above him as large as houses, his pace faltered and he leaned back to stare. The trees looked like the watch-towers of the Guarded Land.

Someone collided with him. It was Fern. They both gazed up at one immense candelabrum of branches.

'A cone tree,' said Fern and took Carnelian by the shoulder. 'Let's not lag behind.'

'Isn't this blindness dangerous?' Carnelian asked as they pushed through the wet thrash of more ferns.

'The sun will soon burn this mist away,' Fern said. His words were hurried, tense, and Carnelian could see the way the Plainsman's eyes were peering over his shoulder searching for danger.

A rumbling in the ground froze the Plainsmen in a staring panic. Shocked, Carnelian felt each tremor in his bones and saw the way everyone was searching the mist in all directions. It seemed to be ships that came hoving into view. He fell back gaping at these saurian leviathans. Cries. Confusion. He was grabbed and yanked around. He stumbled, regained his balance, then was fleeing with the others. A root snared his foot. He fell. The shaking of the ground entered him through his palms and knees. Leaping up, he was coursing after the human cries. A cone tree solidified suddenly before him. Around its trunk Fern was marshalling the Plainsmen. Unable to check his headlong speed, Carnelian careered into them. Hands pulled him closer to the tree.