Ricardo Pinto - The Third God

Still she had taken precautions. Hastily her agents had recruited a minor Lord of the Great, Vennel, to go with Aurum and, with promises of a child brought forth from some woman from her House, she had bought his eyes and ears. When she had received a letter from the fool, she had been less amused. Against her expectations, Suth had returned with Aurum to the Three Lands. Unease had become panic when they had disappeared from the Tower in the Sea. She had feared that, if they reached Osrakum in time, they might influence the Great enough to carry the election for Osidian Nephron. It had been the Hanuses who had offered to organize an attempt to waylay them. She had given those syblings no answer lest she be implicated. They knew that should they fail she would abandon them to the Wise. The syblings’ plot had served only to wound Suth. None had accused her, but most had believed she was behind it. Schism between the factions had deepened. Those who had adhered to her candidate, Molochite, had been drawn closer from fear of her: the opposition had been strengthened in equal measure and blossomed once Suth had arrived in Osrakum. She had bent Molochite to negotiating with the Great for his own election. Coercion and seduction had been employed. The final coup of bringing Imago Jaspar over to her cause had made her certain of victory, but her schemes had come to nothing. The voting had gone against her.

Fondling Ykorenthe, Ykoriana smiled behind her mask. While Suth and Aurum had celebrated their triumph, she had snatched victory from their grip. Before the election, Imago had told her that Osidian Nephron had descended to the Forbidden Garden of the Yden with Suth’s son, Carnelian. The parallels between their actions and those of their fathers had disturbed her, but when the votes had gone against Molochite, she had become desperate enough for one last throw. She had already let Molochite into her bed. He had been sniffing after her for years and it had been essential to bind him to her before the imperial power became his. Subverting her purdah, before witnesses, she had allowed him to put a child in her. If it were a daughter and should one day seek to stand against her mother, Ykoriana would be able to prove the child had been conceived before her sire had been made the Gods and thus strip her of her voting rings. That was before Ykoriana came to love her, though she had vowed she would never be so weak again. A loved child was a terrible vulnerability.

She treasured the iron rings she had demanded the Hanuses bring as proof Osidian and his lover were slain. This triumph had brought another when Suth had drawn the Wise into making a fatal error that had put them in her power. Of course they suspected her hand was behind the disappearance but, without proof, they dared not accuse her. Ykoriana had made certain no bodies would ever be found. The Wise had had no choice but to deify Molochite at an Apotheosis. The new God Emperor had inaugurated Their reign by marrying her.

Her daughter’s breath was warm against her hand. Ykoriana stroked the little head.

Forcing the Clave to depose Suth had not brought her the pleasure she had anticipated. Aurum she had had impeached. Struggling to save himself, the old fool had revealed to her why it was that Suth had chosen not to return from exile as soon as it had been revoked. Vennel, having failed to solve this riddle for her, had suffered for it. It was this secret that Aurum had used to control Suth during the election, expecting to wield influence over Osidian Nephron once he was God Emperor. The information had not been as valuable to her as the old fool had hoped. She had been minded only to commute his deposal to exile. She smiled, imagining his despair. Denied the heir he craved, he would waste his remaining years far from Osrakum, imprisoned in the desolation of the outer world.

A gouged eye, the sun hung low above the reddened earth.

Carnelian was standing on the porch of the Ancestor House. Once again he had spared Osidian, had listened to that butcher even in the midst of the slaughtered Ochre. Those dear people who had overcome their terror of the Masters to offer him and Osidian sanctuary were now all hanging down there from their sacred mother trees, not even a child spared.

Behind him like his own shadow, he could feel Osidian’s malign presence in the Ancestor House. Carnelian glared at the bloodshot sun. Threads of smoke rose tethered to the circling horizon. Osidian claimed these to be a Plainsman sign a thousand years old warning that the Masters had come down to ravage their Earthsky. Carnelian strained his eyes northwards. Was he even certain Aurum was really coming? What of Osidian’s claim that only he could defeat him? Carnelian recalled Aurum setting ants alight. As casually would the Master torch men. Carnelian regarded the spear in his hand with which he had intended to take Osidian’s life. He slumped. It seemed he was destined always to listen to Osidian’s arguments, though their logic always concealed poison.

He looked once more upon the mother trees. He must go down there and submit to the gaze of the dead. He must face Fern’s grief though Fern had the right to kill him. Was it only that morning they had been so close? Their friendship was dead with everything else. He moved to the steps that led down to the clearing. First he must return to where he had left Poppy, though he had no idea what he might say to her. Then he would go to Fern and begin making whatever atonement he could.

The Oracle Morunasa was at the foot of the steps with some other Marula. Uncertainty was in his amber eyes as he regarded the spear in Carnelian’s fist – the spear he had given him to kill Osidian. Morunasa was desperate to be free of Osidian, but after the profound visions he believed his god had shown him, he dared not do it himself.

Carnelian offered him the spear. ‘Where are the hostage children?’

Morunasa registered that its blade was unbloodied. ‘Not here, Master.’

Carnelian surveyed the warriors standing round. They would not look at him and seemed afraid. He dismissed a twinge of empathy. Though forced to it by Osidian and the Oracles, it was their hands had strung up the Ochre.

He turned back to Morunasa. ‘I don’t know what part you played in what happened here, but I do believe that you and your people will suffer for it.’

As he offered the spear again, Morunasa glanced up to the Ancestor House uneasily, then back, penetratingly, at Carnelian, so that he was left feeling they were making some agreement. It was only then the Oracle took back his spear.

At the edge of the clearing, Carnelian hesitated. The horror of what the gloom concealed made his heart pound.

‘Poppy,’ he whispered to himself, setting her up as a beacon to guide him through the nightmare. He edged into the shadows, afraid to make a sound. Fetor wafted, thick, sickening-sweet. He blessed the slope that rose up to meet the pendant branches, so concealing what lay further down the hill. He crept forward, his right hand sliding and crawling along the Crag rock. He heard furtive splashing up ahead. A figure came into sight, washing at the cistern. Carnelian watched it scoop water then trickle it over its head. As the hands fell the figure saw him; it was Krow. The youth’s eyes bulged. He reached down to pluck up some clothing, as if ashamed of his nakedness.

Carnelian moved forward and recognition lit Krow’s face with hope.

‘Carnie…’

Carnelian noticed the dark stains on the clothing he was clutching and frowned. Krow began to tremble. His chin fell. Water dripped from his hair into the dust. Carnelian pushed past him. Just then, he could not bear to know what had caused those stains.