Ricardo Pinto - The Third God

‘The girl?’

‘As I’ve reason to know, the Lepers are frightened. Having a child speak for us will make us seem less threatening.’

In the morning, Carnelian stood with Morunasa watching Poppy and Krow ride away. Behind them rode most of the unwounded Marula warriors. Carnelian remained there until they disappeared. He feared he had lost them for ever.

Within a crevice, in shadow, Osidian lay like a corpse. Carnelian knelt beside him. It was hard to see in his face the boy from the Yden. The marble round the eyes had hairline cracks and not from laughing. The corners of the mouth drew down into the chin. The lips had thinned. It was a face that betrayed suffering. He regarded it, fighting sadness. Not just for the loss of what they had had, but also for what Osidian himself had lost and suffered.

Osidian’s eyes opened and found Carnelian’s face. For a moment he looked confused, vulnerable, but then his face set into its familiar, wilful mask. That mask drove compassion from Carnelian. The man lying there was the murderer of the Ochre. He focused on what he had come to say. ‘Our greatest peril now is Morunasa.’

When Osidian said nothing Carnelian felt cheated and realized he had been hoping for one of Osidian’s dismissive remarks. He continued. ‘I find it hard to believe he does not suspect what we are up to. If we are to survive until Aurum comes for us you must strive to allay his fears.’

Osidian pursed his lips, shook his head. ‘I can do nothing.’

‘Cannot or will not?’

Osidian’s eyebrows rose together. ‘My god no longer speaks to me. I search for him in my dreams, but he is not there. He is gone so completely that I begin to doubt I ever heard his voice at all.’ His gaze sharpened. ‘Do you really believe that if I speak to Morunasa he would not see this?’ He seemed to sink away as if his flesh were draining into the earth. ‘You would be wise to keep him away from me.’ His eyes closed and he seemed not even to be breathing.

Carnelian felt fury rising in him. He wanted to shout at him that he could not simply hide from the situation, but he sensed Osidian immovable and went to cool his anger by soaking cloths in the stream and then laying them on Fern’s arm and shoulder to soothe the burns.

Old woman’s face running with blood. Voice rustling leaves. Carnelian knows she is Poppy. Iron streams in her wrinkles pour down to the sea. Ravens kiting, scribing circles in the wind. Is that a body at the focus of their funnelling? No. Fresh uncurling ferns, green foam on the waves. The tide is coming in. The tide is coming in .

Carnelian woke suddenly. Uneasy wisps of the dream unravelled, fading. He sat up and saw Fern lying near him, his burns fiercely red against the brown-green of the fronds upon which he lay. Outside their cave the sky was bright and vast and clear.

As the days passed, Carnelian grew used to the routes between the rocks, to the murmur of the stream. He spent time losing himself in the limitless sky or gazing at the white cliff of the Guarded Land, imagining a return to his father, to Ebeny, to his brothers in Osrakum. Much of every day he spent sitting on a high rock gazing east across the valleys, searching for Poppy’s return. While the sun was up, it was possible to keep fear and worry at bay. At night nightmares lay in wait for him.

As for Morunasa and the Oracles, they rarely descended from their lair among the rocks. The fear Carnelian had of them abated. They seemed to have become no more menacing than a flock of crows.

Though Carnelian had been watching them for a while, it took some time for him to be certain that the distant figures were the returning Marula warriors. They had been gone for more than four days. Straining his eyes, he could still not see Poppy or Krow among them. Neither was there any sign they had brought any Lepers with them.

He became aware of movement nearby. It was Morunasa and the Oracles descending their slab. He cursed. Morunasa called up to him and he clambered down to meet them. Together they watched the riders winding towards them through the boulder field. Carnelian knew that as soon as Morunasa and the Oracles were reunited with their people the rest of them would be once more within their power. He was relieved to discern Poppy and Krow riding at the head of the returning Marula. She waved and Carnelian waved back. As she came closer he unwound his uba so that she would be reassured by his smile. Though she returned it he could see the worry in her eyes. He stepped forward as her aquar sank to the ground and he helped her out of her saddle-chair. The Oracles clustered round them.

Carnelian saw how the returning warriors were making straight for the stream and turned enquiringly to Poppy. ‘Are you thirsty?’

She looked at him, unsure what answer he wanted.

‘There’ll be time enough to drink,’ said Morunasa. ‘Tell us everything, child.’

Uneasily she looked round the circle of the ashen faces, her gaze coming finally back to Carnelian. He gave her a nod. It seemed futile to attempt to keep anything from Morunasa.

‘For the first couple of days we saw hardly anyone. Those we did ran off and we couldn’t catch up with them. On the third day, we left the Marula in camp and Krow and I went off on our own.’

Carnelian glanced at Krow, who had come to stand protectively behind Poppy, then returned his attention to her. She looked at him intensely. ‘We found several who talked to us. We begged them for help.’ She pointed at her saddle-chair. ‘They gave us some salve that is good for wounds, but said they could do nothing more for us.’

Carnelian tried to hide his disappointment behind a smile. ‘You did well.’

Morunasa turned a jaundiced gaze on Carnelian. ‘Did she?’

Carnelian was sure he could hear an edge of menace in the man’s voice. Confrontation could no longer be avoided. ‘Shall we meet in council?’

Morunasa gave a solemn nod without taking his eyes off Carnelian. He spoke to the other Oracles in their own tongue. They too looked at Carnelian as they gave their assent. He could see they were waiting for him, but he needed time to think. ‘Let’s meet at nightfall.’

Morunasa gazed out over their encampment, now full of Marula warriors. ‘You’ll bring the Master?’

When Carnelian agreed, Morunasa began addressing the other Oracles. Carnelian slipped his arms around Poppy and Krow and led them towards their cave. Behind them the Oracles began moving off in pairs across the camp, to speak to their warriors.

Hunched together, they gazed down at Fern. Poppy knelt and pulled a jar from her bag. ‘Let’s put some of this stuff on his wounds.’

As she pulled the cloth cap back from the jar it exhaled an odour that overcame Carnelian with a memory. He asked her for it and Poppy put it in his hand. He raised the jar to his nose and inhaled. He recalled the sartlar woman applying her burning ointment to the wounds the slaver ropes had cut into his neck and ankles. It was the same smell.

Poppy looked alarmed. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing,’ he said. He returned the jar. ‘It has a very characteristic smell.’

‘And it burns in your wounds,’ Krow said. ‘But, soon after, it leaves them soothed.’

Carnelian nodded and Poppy, kneeling, began to apply it to Fern’s arm. Carnelian knelt beside her and, taking some of the salve on his finger, bent to anoint Fern’s shoulder. ‘So they refused to help us?’

Poppy looked at him. ‘They threatened us at first, but we could see they were terrified of Sthax.’

‘Sthax?’

She nodded. ‘I lied to Morunasa when I said we went alone. Sthax asked to go with us. I didn’t mention it because I didn’t want to get him in any trouble.’

‘He asked?’