decision.
'No,' said Osidian. 'I will come with you at least some of the way.'
Carnelian was more cheered than he would admit to himself. He led Osidian off along the familiar path back to the Sunhold. After the perfumes of the Yden and the rushing air of the sky, the air was oppressively stale and lifeless. 'Like a tomb,' Carnelian muttered.
Osidian grabbed his shoulder and yanked him round. 'What do you mean by that, my Lord?'
Carnelian blinked at him. Osidian's eyes held bladed light. Carnelian felt rage building up inside him. 'I meant nothing at all. Do you not find this place grim in comparison with the Forbidden Garden?'
Without answering him, Osidian launched off into the blackness. Carnelian felt as if a knife point had been taken away from his throat. It made him feel violent.
They walked in silence until at last they reached the stair that led up to the Sunhold. They were more than halfway up when Osidian stopped. The narrow space was filled with their breathing.
'What are we waiting for?' Carnelian asked, exasperated.
'Hush!' hissed Osidian. 'Listen.'
'I hear nothing,' Carnelian whispered.
Osidian nodded vaguely, his eyes looking far off through the stone.
The feeling of being shut out made Carnelian's anger flare. 'Please let me pass. My Lord evidently has a need to be by himself.'
Osidian frowned and his eyes came back to focus on Carnelian. 'What?'
Now that Osidian was looking at him, Carnelian felt he was behaving like a petulant child. He was incapable of apology so he gave way to coldness. 'Let me pass.'
'Come on,' said Osidian, urging him to go down the stairs.
Carnelian stood his ground. 'Why?' Osidian's porcelain perfect face looked down at him. 'What are you waiting for?' 'Explanations.'
Osidian jerked his finger upwards. 'Your father is up there and the trapdoor is closed. Do you want to go and knock on it and then appear before him and whoever else might be there, dressed as you are?'
Carnelian thought about it. Why would his father have returned to the Sunhold? 'How do you know this?'
Osidian's head dropped as if he were dealing with a stupid child. He looked up again. The pulse of the Emperor's heart has stopped.'
Carnelian listened for it. Osidian was right. The pulse was gone. His hand came up to his head. The God Emperor was dead. His father was no longer Regent. The God Emperor was dead.
'Will you go down now?'
Carnelian let Osidian squeeze past and stood for some moments, dazed, as the light receded down the stairs. When he caught up with Osidian, he touched his shoulder. 'You knew before we came here?'
'Did you not know when you saw the processions of the Chosen moving along the Ydenrim?'
The election,' said Carnelian in sudden realization.
'Of course the election,' snapped Osidian.
They reached the bottom of the stairs.
'But how will I get back?' said Carnelian.
Follow, commanded Osidian's hand. He walked them to the edge of the nave and into the column forest beyond. As they walked along the back wall, Carnelian could hear Osidian sniffing the air. He lifted his nose and detected the tang of urine.
When the smell had grown very strong, Osidian lifted the lantern and showed Carnelian a narrow staircase. 'Up there. Sometimes, guardsmen of the Lesser Lords use this old construction stair when they have need to make water. It comes up into the Encampment.'
'Where there are tyadra, surely there will be Chosen.'
They will be in the nave observing the Great selling their votes. You should be able to slip through unnoticed to one of the Sunhold's postern gates.'
'We part here, then?'
Osidian jerked a nod. Their eyes locked. Each could see that there were words the other wished to say.
'Goodbye then,' Carnelian managed at last.
'Goodbye,' said Osidian. He handed Carnelian the lantern and disappeared into the darkness.
In spite of covering his mask's nostrils with the edges of his cowl, Carnelian found the urine stench grew overpowering as he climbed the steps. He reached a landing whose walls were arched with stains. He hitched up the skirt of his cloak in disgust and walked towards a dim doorway. He stared. Pavilions had been put up everywhere. Perfect rows of them, each made by stretching jewelled cloths between columns. Some were dark but others were lit from within like paper lanterns and glowed the colours of their heraldry. A path narrowed off across to the faraway wall of the Sunhold. But this was no easy route. Along its length it was lit by many filtering pavilions and glimmering along it were Masters with their guardsmen. To left and right were the beginnings of many more such paths. He would have to trust to luck to find his way to the other side unseen.
As he came out from the shelter of the archway, he heard the muttering and looked over to where the column forest opened into the nave of the Encampment and a brilliant river streamed like a pouring of stars: the thronging Masters in their court robes.
He shook his eyes free of the wonder and crept into the shadow pooling round a dark pavilion. In the breeze, its cloth walls trembled off a lily scent. He touched its jewelled brocade and bumped his finger along the tail tip of the serpent that doubled back and forth upon itself until its jaws spat out its tongue high above his head. As he came to the column that was the corner of the pavilion he heard voices. He looked round the column and saw guardsmen huddling round a brazier. Their faces carried the same cypher as the wall of the pavilion they guarded. He chanced it. As he walked out, they fell silent watching him. Carnelian ignored the seductive glimmer of the nave in the corner of his eye and breathed more easily once he was between the next pair of pavilions.
Gradually he made his way across the Encampment, taking a route that avoided the brighter pavilions. He could not avoid them all. Quya came from one whose cloth wall was showing a gigantic shadow play. Others were more sinister, filled with subtle movement, as if they were chrysalises in which vast butterflies were dreaming.
He was passing near some tyadra when they surged suddenly to their feet. They opened a flap, allowing Carnelian to see an interior like a jewel casket. Two Masters came out, crowned with subdued fire, in massive court robes. Their guardsmen's heads hardly reached their waists. Carnelian drew back, ducking his head so that the cowl would fall to hide the betraying mirror of his mask, pulling his hands up into his sleeves. He heard the lilt and exquisite enunciation of Quya syllables sounding among the footfalls of their men. He saw the golden dapples around his feet and dared to look up enough to see the Masters slipping past like smouldering trees. He waited some moments. He looked to see them framed by the shimmering nave, then continued on.
When at last he reached the Sunhold's wall, he walked along it keeping in the shadows. Recessed into its barbican, the first postern gate had its portcullis down. Through it he could see another gate and a passage curving off. When he struck the bronze some Ichorians came from a side door. Their half-black faces peered out at him.
'Ammonite?' said one.
Carnelian opened his cowl so that their light could reflect off his mask.
They bowed. 'Master.'
'Open this,' Carnelian said.
'We can't, Master.'
'I'm the son of He-who-goes-before.'
'We can't open this gate under any circumstance, Master,' they said and shook their heads as they retreated.
He was in a cold sweat. What if all the doors should be closed against him? How could he appear in the nave before his father's door dressed as he was? He would humiliate his father and his House before the majesty of all the gathered Great. He leaned back against the Sunhold's wall cursing softly. His gaze wandered among the pavilions wondering if, with the election upon them, the Chosen ever slept.
