The Standing Dead - Stone Dance of the Chameleon 02 (43 page)

Half
drowsing,
he
became
aware
of
the
women
calling out
a
name.
It
took
a
moment
for
his
mind
to
assemble
the sound
into
a
name.
'Ravan.'

Carnelian
opened
his
eyes
and
searched
among
the shifting
shades
until
he
found
the
youth.
Ravan
was standing
in
the
blaze
just
beyond
the
shadow
of
the
tree.

Carnelian
followed
his
line
of
sight
to
Osidian.
The
glint of
Osidian's
eyes
showed
he
was
watching
the
youth. When
Osidian
closed
his
eyes,
Carnelian
saw
the
veneer of
anger
on
his
face.
When
he
looked
for
Ravan,
he
was gone.

People
grew
used
to
seeing
the
two
Standing
Dead
accompanying
Fern
down
to
the
Bloodwood
Tree.
Poppy
did
not like
to
leave
Carnelian.
When
Akaisha
and
the
other women
of
her
hearth
went
away
to
work
upon
the
ditches, Poppy
remained
behind.
Akaisha
was
happy
someone would
be
there
to
take
care
of
her
son
and
Carnie.
Sil's gratitude
towards
the
Twostone
girl
soon
turned
to
friendship.
Poppy
lost
her
bony
look.
As
he
worked,
Carnelian would
send
her
down
to
help
hang
the
djada
ropes
out
to dry.
It
warmed
his
heart
when
he
saw
her
begin
to
be
welcomed
by
the
other
children.
She
helped
them
chase
the ravens
away
from
the
racks
back
to
their
nests
on
the Crag.
She
made
friends.
She
smiled.
Carnelian
knew
joy the
first
day
he
heard
her
laugh.
Poppy
did
not
forget
'her men',
as
she
called
them.
Every
day,
as
the
heat
became unbearable,
she
insisted
it
was
her
privilege
to
bring them
their
meal.
Fern,
against
his
better
judgement,
grew fond
of
her.
Even
Osidian
tolerated
her,
as
if
she
were
a pet
Carnelian
had
adopted.

The
fear
Carnelian
felt
for
Osidian
had
abated,
as
each morning
found
him
stronger.
He
rarely
spoke.
Even
when they
lay
together
in
their
sleeping
hollow,
Osidian
revealed nothing
of
what
he
was
feeling.
Exhausted
from
the
work, Carnelian
did
not
have
the
energy
to
prise
him
open.
He told
himself
Osidian
needed
to
make
his
own
accommodation
with
their
new
life.
In
the
evenings,
around
the hearth,
he
sat
in
his
place
on
the
rootbench
between
Fern and
Carnelian.
He
ate
everything
he
was
given
and
never asked
for
more.
Neither
he
nor
Ravan
acknowledged
each other's
existence.
Mostly,
Osidian
looked
deep
into
the
fire as
if
he
were
watching
some
drama
being
played
out
there. At
first
his
brooding
presence
had
unsetded
everyone,
but after
a
few
days
he
became
as
familiar
a
part
of
their
world as
the
boulders
that
sat
upon
the
hillside
in
the
grasp
of cedar
roots.

Every
three
days
or
so,
men
would
drag
a
new
earther in
from
the
plain.
Many
aquar
were
needed
to
drag the
corpse
into
position
under
the
Bloodwood
Tree.
The first
time
a
set
of
hunters
came
they
would
look
at
the Standing
Dead
only
from
the
corners
of
their
eyes. Carnelian
could
see
himself
how
terrible
Osidian
looked. Gigantic,
clothed
in
gore,
his
blood-matted
hair
barely concealing
the
green
fire
of
his
eyes.
With
each
succeeding
visit,
Carnelian
began
to
notice
that
the
men
were losing
their
fear.
Seeing
the
Standing
Dead
labouring where
they
themselves
would
not,
they
were
beginning to
feel
contempt.
For
the
time
being,
their
disrespect
was only
in
their
eyes,
but
Carnelian
knew
this
could
not
last and
he
feared
for
the
effect
any
mockery
would
have
upon Osidian.

It
was
Loskai
who
started
it.
He
had
returned
from
the hunt
with
other
men,
among
whom
Carnelian
could
see Ravan
busying
himself
checking
the
knots
on
the
tow-lines.
Krow
was
gazing
at
Osidian.
The
hunters
were filthy
from
days
out
on
the
plain.
Fierce
pride
shone
from their
faces
as
they
delivered
the
immense
horned
corpse to
the
women.

Loskai
moved
towards
Osidian,
pointing.
There
he
is. There's
the
white
bastard
who
murdered
my
brother.'

He
turned
to
survey
the
faces
of
his
companions. 'Neither
looks
so
impressive
now.'

He
swung
round
and
regarded
Osidian
and
Carnelian, his
lip
riding
up
his
teeth.

Carnelian
bore
the
goading,
his
attention
on
Osidian, watching
him,
nervous
of
his
reaction.

The
women
were
gathering
round.
Mother
Mossie appeared
among
them
her
hands
half-raised,
her
face hesitant.