The Standing Dead - Stone Dance of the Chameleon 02 (91 page)

Night
had
fallen
before
Akaisha
and
Whin
returned. Everyone
could
see
they
had
been
quarrelling.
Akaisha said
they
had
come
up
from
the
Homeditch
gates,
now guarded
by
the
men
of
the
Tribe.
Though
everyone
was desperate
to
know
what
the
Elders
had
decided,
neither Akaisha
nor
Whin
volunteered
anything.

Later,
Akaisha
took
an
opportunity
to
talk
to
Carnelian alone.
'I
suppose
you'd
better
know.'
She
looked
unhappy. 'We
have
had
to
take
some
of
their
children
away
from them.
There's
no
other
way
we
can
be
sure
to
be
safe
when our
men
are
away.'

Carnelian
was
aware
she
would
not
look
him
directl
y
in the
eye.

'We
have
to
send
them
away
to
ensure
the
good
behaviour
of
their
mothers.' 'Send
them
where?'

'Galewing
will
take
them
with
him
tomorrow
when
he returns
to
the
Master.'

Carnelian
could
not
believe
this.
'If
you
must
take
their children,
why
not
bring
them
up
here
where
you
can
keep an
eye
on
them?'

When
Akaisha
would
not
answer,
he
took
her
hands
in his.
She
glanced
up
at
him.

'Surely
you
understand,
Carnie?
How
could
we
hurt them
ourselves?'

Carnelian
let
go
of
her
hands.
'But
you're
happy
to
let the
men
do
it?'

'It
won't
come
to
that.
Their
mothers
would
do
nothing to
risk
their
children.'

'I
can't
believe
you
want
to
send
any
children
out
there, among
the
herds
and
the
raveners.
Who'll
care
for
them?'

Akaisha
grimaced.
'We
can't
have
them
here.
We can't.'

'What
do
you
fear,
Akaisha?'

She
shook
her
head
in
answer.
He
thought
about
it.

'Is
it
that
having
them
among
the
hearths
the
women won't
be
able
to
distinguish
the
Bluedancing
children
from those
of
the
Tribe?'

Akaisha
looked
up
at
him
and
there
were
tears
in
her eyes.
'What
have
we
become?'
she
whispered.
'What
have we
become?'

Akaisha
conspired
with
Carnelian
to
draw
out
breakfast as
long
as
they
could.
It
was
the
other
overseers
gathering waiting
for
them
at
the
edge
of
their
rootearth
that eventually
forced
them
to
rise.

'We'll
have
to
face
it
some
time,'
Carnelian
said.

With
the
others,
they
marched
in
silence
down
to
the camp
of
the
Bluedancing.
When
it
came
in
sight, Carnelian
was
as
reluctant
as
everyone
else
to
go
any nearer,
but
he
pushed
forward
nonetheless.

The
Bluedancing
seemed
carved
from
wood.
Carnelian tried
not
to
catch
glimpses
of
their
eyes
as
they
were ordered
to
their
work.
They
shuffled
along,
their
chins digging
into
their
bony
chests.
They
looked
like
sartlar.

He
accompanied
them
to
the
ditch
and,
removing
his robe,
was
determined
to
work
among
them
as
he
had
done for
days.
It
made
him
feel
better
to
be
sharing
their labour.

He
clawed
at
the
mud,
but
hard
as
he
worked,
he
was aware
of
the
space
there
was
around
him.
Every
time
he glanced
up
he
would
catch
glimpses
of
the
hatred
in their
eyes.
It
sapped
his
strength.
Their
eyes
made
him question
why
he
was
sharing
their
work.
Was
it
that
he was
doing
penance
for
the
guilt
he
felt?
Was
it
that
if he
pretended
to
share
their
suffering
no
one
would
be able
to
blame
him
for
his
part
in
what
was
being
done
to them?
It
was
Osidian
who
had
brought
all
this
about,
but who
was
it
had
brought
Osidian
to
the
Koppie
and
at every
turn
protected
him,
nurtured
him
until
he
had grown
into
what
he
was
today?
Ultimately,
Carnelian could
not
pretend
his
hands
were
clean
of
any
of Osidian's
crimes.
He
dropped
his
mattock
and
looked
at his
red,
earthy
hands.
He
left
the
ditch.
It
was
about time
he
took
responsibility
for
what
he
was
and
what
he had
done.

He
ceased
work
with
the
Bluedancing
but
tried
instead to
get
as
much
food
and
water
as
he
could
for
them.
He made
sure
to
keep
an
eye
on
their
Ochre
overseers.
He understood
what
spurred
these
women
to
cruelty. Sometimes,
when
he
saw
the
thin
arms
of
the Bluedancing
plucking
at
the
red
earth,
he
grew
enraged, desiring
to
lash
them,
to
heap
abuse
on
them,
but
he
had delved
deep
enough
to
see
this
was
guilt
taking
possession
of
him:
by
bringing
his
victims
low,
he
could
hope
to justify
keeping
them
in
their
place.