The Standing Dead - Stone Dance of the Chameleon 02 (68 page)

He reached out and took her hand. 'He may love us both, but you are his wife.'

She looked up solemn, beautiful. Poppy chose that moment to return. She beamed when she saw them holding hands.

On the day Carnelian noticed that the valley was losing its green vibrancy, the embassy returned. Children's shrieks of excitement pierced the lazy afternoon and soon

people were streaming across the meadow to welcome back the riders.
Carnelian
was among them with Poppy and Sil, laughing as the noise deafened him, adding to it himself with a bellow or two.

The riders came to a halt, Akaisha at their head, unable to make any progress against the throng. From every throat came calls for news. Akaisha signalled the riders to make their aquar kneel. Seeing her lowered to the ground, Carnelian and Sil pushed through to help her out of her saddle-chair. They could feel in the tremble of her arms how tired she was. She was hiding some pain behind her smile. Fern appeared beside them. He waved people away while Akaisha leaned on Carnelian as he walked her towards the encampment.

'What news, my mother?' Sil asked.

She made a face. The usual. Marriages, talk of hunts, of fernroot yields.'

'What about the Gatherers, my mother?' Carnelian asked.

Akaisha's face sank. 'It's as we'd guessed: they came this year to every tribe.' She looked with concern at Carnelian, trying to read his expression.

'So what if they search for you? No one knows where you are.'

He leaned down and gave her wrinkled cheek a kiss. Sil put her hand on his arm. 'Leave her with me, Carnie, I'm sure you and Fern will want to talk.' She leaned close and kissed him on the lips and then she and Akaisha moved away.

Fern was looking at him with eyebrows raised.

'We've become friends,' said Carnelian, embarrassed.

Fern grinned. 'I knew you would.'

Carnelian noticed a nasty bruise on the side of his friend's head. 'How did that happen?'

Trucestaff, or no trucestaff, we had a run in with the Bluedancing.'

'A fight?'

'A brawl with some young hotheads wanting revenge for the beating we gave them earlier this year.' He grinned. 'We gave them another good hiding.'

HAND OF DARKNESS

And when, for her bride-price, she gouged out his eyes she held the thorn in her left hand.

(from the '
Rudya', the first book of the 'Ilk
aya', part of the holy scriptures of the Chosen)

The
breeze
could
not
disperse
the
palls
of
smoke
that
hid the
dawn.
The
Tribe
had
fired
the
further
reaches
of
the valley.
The
Withering
had
at
last
stretched
up
to
find them,
parching
the
blue
out
of
the
sky,
scorching
the green
from
the
earth.
Their
stream
had
dwindled,
choking dry.
The
fern
meadow
turned
amber,
dying.

Harth
and
others
of
the
Elders
had
sniffed
hope
floating
on
the
air.
Several
had
gone
out
beyond
the
entrance to
the
valley
to
confirm
it.
When
they
returned
they
went among
the
Tribe
claiming
they
had
smelled
the
rain
in
the breeze
blowing
from
the
west.
When
the
young
looked sceptical,
they
were
reassured
it
was
not
a
matter
of having
a
keen
nose
but
of
being
blessed
with
the
experience
to
recognize
the
subtle
perfume
of
the
Skyfather's approach.
After
that
it
had
been
all
hurried
packing.

'We
must
rush
to
meet
the
rain,'
said
Fern.
'Even
now it
rolls
towards
us
across
the
Earthsky.'

Carnelian
wondered
at
the
certainty
in
his
friend's voice.
Carnelian
could
smell
nothing
in
the
air
but
burning.
To
reach
if
we'll
have
to
cross
a
desert.'

'We
still
have
water,'
said
Sil,
Leaf
strapped
to
her back.

Carnelian
had
seen
how
lightly
loaded
the
drag-cradles were
with
waterskins.

Fern
craned
round.
'Would
you
have
us
stay
here?'

Carnelian
looked
back
at
the
wall
of
smoke
clogging the
sky.
Aquar
ambled
on
every
side
as
the
Tribe
made gentle
progress
to
the
valley
entrance.

Osidian
approached,
attended
by
Ravan,
Krow
and other
youths.
Carnelian
felt
Poppy,
Fern
and
Sil
close around
him
like
a
faction.
He
greeted
Osidian
in
Vulgate and
he
gave
a
nod
but
would
not
meet
Carnelian's
eyes.

Osidian
turned
to
watch
the
smoke
rising.
'It
hides
the sky.'

The
fire
will
renew
the
earth,'
said
Fern.
'When
we return
next
year
this
valley
will
be
as
green
as
it
was
when we
arrived.'

Osidian
was
not
listening.
His
eyes
were
grey,
reflecting
smoke
as
he
spoke.
'Even
the
sun
cannot
see
through that
curtain
of
darkness.'

Thirst
drove
them
west
with
ever
greater
speed.
They
had been
struggling
across
the
torrid
land
for
days.
Dawn found
them
plodding
and
so
too
the
dusk.
They
had redistributed
the
djada
and
what
little
water
was
left
so
as to
free
drag-cradles
for
the
pregnant,
the
younger children,
the
old
and
those
who
had
to
take
turns
resting. It
was
being
whispered
that
the
wind-blown
promise
of rain
had
been
false.
People
gazed
accusingly
at
the Elders,
so
many
of
whom
were
not
having
to
walk. Carnelian
understood
there
was
a
need
to
blame
someone.
It
was
difficult
not
to
despair.
The
furnace
air
driving into
their
faces
snatched
all
moisture
from
throat
and
eye. The
sun
glared
relentl
essly
down.
Carnelian
choked
on the
ashen
dust
rolling
hissing
across
a
desert
desolation. Whenever
he
lifted
his
itching
eyes,
the
charcoaled
plain stretched
before
him
limitl
ess
and
droughty
to
an
umber horizon.

The
water
they
carried
dwindled
day
by
day,
as
had
the stream
in
the
valley,
and
still
the
rain
did
not
come.
Every day,
in
the
calm
before
the
dawn,
Carnelian
saw
Akaisha lift
her
head
and
dilate
her
nostrils
like
dark
eyes.
She shook
her
head
and,
when
asked,
she
swore
by
the
Mother that
the
Skyfather's
rain
was
hiding
unseen
in
the
hem
of the
sky.
With
the
others,
Carnelian
wanted
to
believe
her but
as
each
day
withered
into
a
chill
night,
they
had
to camp
again
in
an
unwatered
land.