Ricardo Pinto - The Third God

‘I am Opalid, of your House.’

Carnelian remembered meeting this Lord a few times. He recalled also that he was the son of Spinel, who had recently usurped Sardian’s place in House Suth. Opalid’s serene, forbidding face of gold turned to the dead children. ‘My own son lies there.’

The gold mask then surveyed the battlefield. ‘I wait for them to bring me my father’s corpse.’ The golden lips and dark eye slits swung back towards Carnelian. ‘The same price have I paid as the others of the Great, but yet, unlike them, I am not to have the compensation of rising to the ruling of my House.’

His bitter tone stung Carnelian, who wished to find words to deflect the man’s grief, to tell him he did not wish to assume the power Opalid felt was his due, to confess the possibility that he would soon die in Osrakum, but he was trapped in a maze of guilt, anger and confusion. ‘I am sorry you are in pain, Opalid.’

The Master seemed to pull back. ‘Spare me your pity, my Lord. You are like your father. Do you think your blood justifies your absence any more than it did his? Your lineage is either in exile or else you seek to rule from a sickbed. For a generation you have permitted the power of our House to wane in the councils of the Great.’

He snapped his fingers in a gesture of contempt. ‘But why should that surprise me when this weakness saps even our coomb. If I had risen to rule, I would quickly beat the ancient discipline into our slaves; cease this disgusting consorting with them that makes us an object of ridicule among those of our peers who should fear us. How shall you rule, my Lord?’

The Master’s rant had freed Carnelian. ‘You seem to forget, my Lord, our Ruling Lord still lives.’

‘No doubt as the… the favourite of the new Gods you expect to bring great power to our House?’

‘Enough,’ snapped Carnelian. He sensed Opalid resisting an instinct to bow. ‘Is my father here?’

‘So that he might savour my grief?’

Carnelian grew weary of the confrontation. ‘You little know him if you imagine he would delight in your pain. Please, just tell me if you know if he is here.’

‘Not as far as I am aware, my Lord.’

‘Perhaps he was too weak to make the journey,’ Carnelian muttered, his heart growing heavy with concern.

‘Yes, my Lord, it shall not be long before you wear the Ruling Ring.’

Carnelian stared at the Master, amazed, wondering if it were possible that he really believed what he was implying. It seemed Opalid’s grief might be more for himself than for his fallen father, perhaps even than for his child. ‘I wish to be alone, my Lord.’

Opalid hesitated, then began a bow, terminated it abruptly and, off-balance, moved away. As he watched him, Carnelian froze. He was all that stood between Opalid and the ruling of House Suth. He could not bear the thought of his family at the mercy of such a man, but, as things were, Carnelian knew his chances of surviving long enough to thwart Opalid were slim.

Carnelian found Osidian with Morunasa and several syblings watching some dragons on the road approaching from the south. No doubt they were bringing the corpses of the Ruling Lords they had salvaged from the battlefield. He felt a pang of urgency. ‘I am going to return to Molochite’s camp, my Lord.’

Osidian’s mask turned to regard him.

‘To seek my father.’

‘Take Earth-is-Strong.’

‘What danger could the camp hold?’

‘None if you take the huimur.’

Carnelian realized there would be other advantages to complying. ‘Is she close by?’

‘Not very far. I kept her close to me during the battle.’ He indicated the gutted mass of the Iron House. ‘In the attack on that, her pipes were second only to mine.’

Carnelian wondered why Osidian had told him that. He disliked being reminded of the way the children had died. Was his real reason for seeking his father to escape the scene of so much death?

‘Take the Quenthas with you.’

Carnelian looked round and saw, with relief and joy, that among the syblings nearby were the sisters who had been his companions at court. Their heads came up, grief hardening their faces. There was shock in Right-Quentha’s eyes at seeing his naked face. He needed to know Osidian’s intentions. ‘What is it that you fear, Celestial?’

Osidian laughed in a way that to Carnelian sounded unnatural. ‘What have I to fear now? Take them. I give them to you. They themselves confessed to me how they disobeyed my brother.’

Carnelian had to defend them. ‘To save me.’

‘And for that I am grateful but, having once betrayed the trust of one God Emperor, how can I be certain they will not betray another?’

Carnelian glanced at the sisters and saw how pale Right-Quentha looked, how both sisters lowered their heads, inclining them towards each other.

‘If you do not take them, they shall have to be destroyed.’

Carnelian saw that the sisters did not flinch at this threat. ‘I shall be glad to have them with me if that is their wish.’

Right-Quentha glanced up at him, in her sad eyes acceptance of their fate. He felt their shame and wished he could tell them that, in truth, he too was of the House of the Masks, so that there was no dishonour in serving him, but he could not speak and, as he walked away, the sisters followed him.

‘How was Grane blinded?’

His brothers, Poppy and Krow stared past him. Carnelian glanced round at the syblings. Right-Quentha was countering their stares with proud aloofness. Her sister’s tattooed face bore an uncertain frown. Carnelian turned back to his family. ‘These are the Quenthas, right and left. They saved my life’ – he glanced at Fern, who was nodding – ‘and, henceforth, are part of our household.’

He looked into every face to make certain everyone understood he wanted the sisters welcomed. All concurred. Only Fern’s gaze did not soften, disturbed beneath his troubled brow; he was concerned not at all with the syblings, but only with Carnelian. They needed to talk, but this was not the time.

‘Grane’s eyes?’ he said to Keal.

His brother began a shrug. ‘While Father still ruled, Grane was his steward.’ His mouth tightened. ‘When they stole the power away from Father, the new master had Grane flogged, then blinded.’

Tain’s eyes flashed. ‘Spinel removed his mask in front of him!’

Carnelian caught his meaning. Spinel had done the same to Grane as had Jaspar to Tain on the road to Osrakum. Grane had been used to make clear to Sardian and the rest of the House exactly who was now master. Carnelian could see in his brothers’ faces something of what they had had to endure in the subsequent years of Spinel’s rule.

Tain’s smile startled Carnelian. ‘But everything will change, now you’re back, Carnie.’

Carnelian’s first reaction was anger. Almost he reprimanded him for his dangerous familiarity. But, realizing his anger was really fear, he let it go. He could not bear their hope, for it was sure to founder in bitter disappointment. Desperation rose at the thought they might spend the rest of their lives under Opalid’s tyranny.

A tremor in the ground steadied him. Another. Up on the road a dragon was approaching. With relief he recognized Earth-is-Strong and he threw himself into getting his family up into the safety of her tower.

Carnelian ran his hands down the smooth arms of the command chair. He found some reassurance in its familiar feel, in having his Left and Right in their places awaiting his commands. He glanced round and saw his family crammed against the cabin walls, safe for the moment. Poppy and Krow leaning together, his brothers staring blindly, Fern with his knees drawn up to his chest, head lolling. Carnelian’s gaze lingered on his lover, recalling the feel of that wiry head, tasting again the sweetness of their lovemaking. This was too soon soured by confusion, anger, fear. Why had he been so weak as to start a relationship that he knew was certain to end in loss?