Ricardo Pinto - The Standing Dead

'Shows how much you know.'

Carnelian was horrified. 'Did their water run out?'

Fern's hand gripped his arm. 'When we returned, we found them well enough, but the Master commanded that they should be sent off to the koppie of the Tallgreen.'

'Why?'

'He didn't say.'

No doubt Osidian intended they should dig a killing field in the home of the Tallgreen with which to slaughter another heavener herd.

As if that thought had summoned him, Carnelian felt his presence.

'How pleasing,' drawled Osidian in Quya, 'my Lord must find the company of savages.'

Carnelian could just make him out, an immense shadow in the night accompanied by his guards.

'I came to hear news of the Ochre,' Carnelian said.

'I. could have provided you with all the news you seek, Carnelian.'

As the clear voice faded, Carnelian became aware that across the escarpment he could hear nothing but the pattering of rain.

'You shall be left to rule this place in my stead.'

'What about the Oracles?'

They will keep to their island: the rest is yours.'

The rain began falling more heavily.

The sartlar must continue to cut salt.'

'What of the Ladder?'

'Make sure you understand, my Lord, the production of salt must be your paramount concern.'

'But you still wish to have the Ladder repaired?'

'With whatever labour you have left. Besides, it is best to wait until the rain stops. Currently, the cables will be sodden and heavy.'

Carnelian considered his next question carefully. 'Who will be left here, my Lord, to oversee the sartlar?'

'I will leave you Plainsmen.'

'Ochre?'

'Oh no, my Lord…'

Carnelian could hear the smile in Osidian's voice.

The Ochre will all be coming with me.'

Carnelian knew more harm than good was likely to come from arguing. Clearly, Fern and the rest of the Ochre would be hostages to ensure his good behaviour.

'I trust we understand each other, my Lord?' 'I understand,' Carnelian said, resigned. Waiting for more, it was a while before he realized Osidian was gone.

'What did he say?' Poppy whispered.

That tomorrow you all leave with him.'

'And you?' asked Fern, the resigned tone of his voice suggesting he already knew the answer.

‘I am to remain behind again.'

Then I'm staying with you,' said Poppy.

'No,' said Carnelian, outraged at the thought.

'Surely he intends to leave some of us here with you?' said Fern.

'No Ochre.'

Their talk was spreading murmurs across the encampment.

'Why are none of us to stay here?' said Hirane. 'Doesn't he trust us?'

'Have you forgotten the riches beneath our feet?' said Ravan. 'Did he mention Krow?'

'He mentioned no one by name.'

'Are we returning to the Koppie?' Ravan demanded, rancour loud in his voice.

'I have told you everything he said, Ravan.'

'I'm sure,' the youth said, bitterly.

Carnelian felt Poppy stroking his hand. 'Why can't I stay with you, Carnie? Please, let me stay. I've been so unhappy.'

He reached out for her, found her head wrapped in soaked cloth and leaned his cheek on her. 'You know I'd have you here if I could. It'll make things much easier for me if I know you're safely at home.'

Beneath a frowning sky, a vast tree caged a darkness Carnelian was terrified to enter. A yearning drew him in to search for his loved ones. It was only when he tried to cry out their names he realized he had forgotten them. Pulsing anguish, he could not even see their faces in his mind. He wandered, a blind betrayer, within the caverns of the tree that were hung with overripe fruit. Feeling a warm hand slip into his own, he saw Poppy looking up at him. Her eyes were an anchor in his despair. Hunted, they fled away across raw, red earth.

He awoke and saw her leaning over him, alarmed.

'Carnie, you're frightening me.'

He struggled to sit up against the sodden pull of the blanket. Poppy's hair clung in feathers to her skull. He registered the look in her eyes.

'You were moaning in your sleep,' she said.

Carnelian frowned. 'A dream.'

He became aware of the commotion around them, men everywhere saddling their aquar, stowing away their dripping blankets, plodding through the mud, hanging their heads in the downpour, squinting against the water pouring down their faces.

A hand slipped into his. 'Please, please, let me stay, Carnie.'

Her pleading eyes made his heart resonate to the haunting rhythm of his dream. He gripped her hand, so small in his. His nod was rewarded by her dazzling delight.

Carnelian and Poppy watched the aquar churn their way up through the mud of the escarpment. Nearby, miserable and downcast, stood the Plainsmen who were staying behind. The colour of wet wood, Carnelian's Marula warriors loped up in a mass after the shrouded Oracles. Among them Osidian rode with Krow and Morunasa, the forbidding heart of the march.

Carnelian was remembering Fern's morose face when they had said goodbye. Everything seemed so hopeless. A movement at the edge of his vision made him glance round and see a sartlar creeping towards him. It was Kor, her spade feet bringing her steadily up the slope, her mane plastered over the angles of her ruined face. He felt Poppy edging round him and, glancing down, saw she was trying to hide.

'It's only Kor, Poppy. There's nothing to fear.' The sartlar woman knelt in the mud. 'Get up, Kor,' Carnelian said, 'I'd like you to meet Poppy.'

The woman rose, reddened by the mud that smeared her rags and legs. Carnelian coaxed Poppy out in front of him and held her there by gripping her shoulders. Though she was of a height with the sartlar, Kor's bulk made Poppy appear as fragile as a leaf stalk. Woman and girl nodded at each other.

The Ladder, Master?' asked Kor.

'Not until the rain stops,' Carnelian answered.

'Salt then?'

Carnelian nodded.

He sensed Kor was waiting for him to accompany her. Carnelian turned to look for the departing host, but they had already faded away into the rainy murk.

Later, Poppy told him how things had been in the mountains after the Master had taken their men away. How the Tribe had tried to carry on as normal without success. How when Harth and others had tried to give orders again, the people were too afraid to listen. Fading, Akaisha moved little, spoke less, so that Whin had become hearthmother in all but name. When the men had returned, the Tribe's joy was soured by news of what had happened in the koppie of the Darkcloud and the discovery of the Upper Reach. Carnelian saw how haunted Poppy still was and sensed how all this had reopened the horror of the massacre of her tribe. It was Fern who had taken the time to help her through those first few days, though Sil and he were constantly arguing. Carnelian wondered about this but he decided that to ask Poppy for details would be prying.

Day after dreary day, the rain fell unabated. High in the baobab they were sharing, Carnelian and Poppy tried to amuse themselves by telling each other stories; gossiping about the people they knew; sharing their hopes and dreams. Mostly, the monotonous hiss of the rain would wear their speech away to silence and then they would sit at the opening of the hollow and gaze out. The amount of earth left upon the escarpment showed the passage of time. Streams coursed down so filled with red earth they could have been blood. The knoll had become an island in the midst of a sea of stone. Streams gushed past on every side so that Carnelian feared that at any time the trees that rose from the knoll would lose their grip and the whole mass would slide down into the chasm.

Carnelian had divided what food there was among the Plainsmen and the sartlar. The sartlar had carried their portion down into their caves. The Plainsmen had followed his lead and carried theirs up into the dryness of other baobab hollows. Each day Carnelian had to force Poppy to chew gnarled fernroot. They were careful with it, but still, their store was running low.