Ricardo Pinto - The Third God

The rising-falling murmur of the homunculi ceased suddenly, jerking Carnelian out of a stupor. The Sapients took their places in a wedge with the Grand Sapient at its apex, and a new murmuring arose from them. Carnelian could grasp no words. Something like a dialogue was going on between them, but rapidly, with no gaps in the streams of sound. After observing this process for a while, he surmised they must be checking the message between them to make sure it was comprehended perfectly. At last Legions moved away to stand on his own and one of his staff sent a homunculus to ask Carnelian to come and speak with their master. Eagerness mixed with dread as he approached the ancient.

‘We have now a complete and perfect vision of the state of the Commonwealth,’ said Legions’ homunculus. ‘Further, we have distilled from this an inescapable conclusion.’

Carnelian hesitated, wanting to know what this might be, but fearing it too. ‘Can you describe this vision, my Lord?’

‘It is an entity more easily apprehended through symbols than words, but I shall attempt to satisfy your request, Celestial.

‘The cities in the south are beginning to run out of food. Supplies have been transferred from neighbouring granaries and we can arrange for a more extensive redistribution from further afield. No arrangement, however, can entirely avoid the shortage that will become universal within a few months. The parameters for the coming shortage are dependent on just how many provinces will fail to yield a standard harvest. Yield quotients are expected to be low to disastrous for the southern provinces. We do not have sufficient data to predict yields of the provinces in other zones. More positively, rumours of disturbances at the centre have not yet penetrated to the periphery. Negatively, all the peripheral provinces have been substantially denuded of their sartlar populations.’

‘All?’ Carnelian said, shocked.

‘It appears that the summons issued from Makar has spread throughout the Guarded Land. We have no means at present to ascertain how this may have happened. What cannot be doubted is that all five radial roads are clogged with sartlar moving towards the centre. It is possible their entire population is coming here.’

Dread rose in Carnelian like a vast wave, threatening to break thunderously.

‘Supporting this hypothesis is the observation that the density of the sartlar increases exponentially in proportion with proximity to Osrakum.’

Carnelian remembered the comparison the Wise had made between the sartlar and a locust swarm. Beyond the concentrating sartlar millions lay an ever widening ring of land from which they would have consumed everything edible. He felt a shadow fall across him and, glancing up, saw the clouds were closing over them again.

‘The City at the Gates exists only as an empty husk.’

These few words were enough to stir to life a horrid vision in Carnelian’s mind. As if from on high in one of the watch-towers that rose from a causeway, he saw the sartlar plague creeping through the tenements and hovels. What horror as the last scrap of food was devoured, with no hope of more anywhere, while every day brought ever more hungry mouths, ever more empty stomachs. ‘They will devour themselves.’

‘We cannot allow this to happen,’ said the homunculus and Carnelian noticed how firmly Legions gripped the little man’s neck. ‘Without the sartlar to till and water it, the Land is already dying. Without the food the earth produces, the cities will die.’ The Grand Sapient leaned forward over the head of his homunculus. ‘But Osrakum will die first.’

Carnelian’s breath stopped. Until that moment he had been an observer. ‘How?’ was all he managed to say.

‘Within the Hidden Land there is less than a month of food. Before the sartlar consume themselves utterly, Osrakum will starve.’

A new vision crept into Carnelian’s mind. A miraculous vision of the lake and its palaces, but this wonder was rotting at its roots. What would happen when the Masters began to starve? He snatched his mind’s eye away from seeing more. ‘What can we do?’

‘Only one path remains open to us. The legions must be summoned to drive the sartlar back onto the Land; to save what can be saved, of the harvest, of the Land, of the sartlar, of the Commonwealth; to allow food to flow back into Osrakum. We must have the authority to transmit the command codes.’

Still caught in the coils of his dark vision, Carnelian took a while to appreciate what Legions was waiting for. ‘Why ask me? Have you not communicated this to the God Emperor?’

‘For the moment Their condition is beyond any remedy.’

Suspicion leapt into Carnelian’s mind. Even in the throes of the maggot infestation it should have been possible for them to raise Osidian to enough lucidity to make this decision. Doubt ate away at this conclusion. He was remembering how weak Osidian had been, how spiritless. Morunasa had forced this new infestation on Osidian before he had fully recovered from the last. But Carnelian dare not trust the Wise. Nothing they did was free of the shadow of manipulation. Perhaps they feared that if Osidian were to make this decision it would confirm his absolute power, and what might they gain by passing the decision to Carnelian? Perhaps that any disasters consequent on the decision could be laid at his feet. A darker possibility occurred to him. If he gave the command, would he not appear in Osidian’s eyes to be usurping the power rightly his? Did the Wise seek to cleave them from each other the better to control both? Then the thought came that perhaps the Wise wanted to summon the legions to use them to re-establish their Great Balance. Perhaps even to take power for themselves. What did he know about what was really going on in the outer world other than what he had just been told? He looked out along the Canyon, wishing he had followed his heart and ridden to where he could have seen things for himself. He shook his head. He was sinking into a quagmire of self-defeating argument. He knew in his bones the vision Legions had described to him must be true or close to the truth, but did it have to be he who made this decision? Was there time for him to return to the Labyrinth and raise Osidian himself? Then his mind began to drift again towards contemplating, almost as a whisper, what might happen in the palaces of the Masters should famine come to their coombs. There was no time to delay.

‘Will the legions succeed?’ he said, seeking some certainty.

The homunculus murmured and when he fell silent, his master’s fingers began moving at his neck and throat.

‘All animals fear fire. If they are given space to flee it, Celestial, the sartlar will flee.’

Carnelian nodded, wanting to believe it. ‘How will we do it?’

‘We shall bring the legions to a gathering point north of the City. When we have marshalled them, we shall guide them in, using our heliographs. We shall make it possible for you, Celestial, to observe everything from here.’

Carnelian paused for a moment, close to being unmanned by the ghosts of the many decisions he had made that had helped lead them all to this crisis. Then, with a heavy heart, he gave the Grand Sapient leave to transmit the command codes in his name.

Over the next two days, signals came in intermittently from legates acknowledging reception of the summons. Legion’s Thirds oversaw the sending of detailed instructions that were intended to coordinate the meeting of the legions at the designated mustering point. The intention was to weld them into a single, massive, irresistible strike force. The Thirds laboured constantly, providing each legion with a detailed route to the rendezvous so that all could be efficiently resupplied with naphtha and render. All this Carnelian discovered by talking to one of the Seconds, who also informed him that the legions coming to raise the blockade of Osrakum numbered twice as many as those that had fought at the Battle of the Mirror.