The commander of the Ichorians,' he muttered. The man might have the authority to let him in. If not, he would have to be coerced into going to get permission from He-who-goes-before. Carnelian grimaced imagining the consequent confrontation with his father.
He skirted the next postern gate and came to a region where crowds of tyadra had gathered to stare into the nave.
Carnelian kept as close as he could to the wall where there were some shadows. The wall swelled to form the bastion of the last gate. He slipped round it, had a glaring impression of the nave and then ducked in towards the gate. The Ichorians there would also not let him in. Putting as much authority as he could into his voice, Carnelian demanded that they go and fetch their commander.
As he waited he looked out and saw the gapes on the tattooed faces. The guardsmen could have been staring at a city burning. Patches of glimmer slid everywhere, stretching and contracting, finding their faces in the gloom. There was such wonder in their eyes that Carnelian could not resist edging out to see what they were seeing. He was forced to squint against the dazzle. The nave was hung with suns beneath whose showering rays slipped vast shapes, angels sheathed in starlight. Some were jewelled sculptures. Others opened like exquisite mechanisms, spreading their arms to display sleeves like falls of sunlit water. White hands fluttered everywhere like doves. He searched and found their masks, faces carved high into the golden towers where each swelled into a huge crown.
The grate of the portcullis lifting drew him back into its shadows.
'You're the Master, Suth Carnelian?'
It took a breath or two for Carnelian's eyes to adjust to see the grand-cohort commander standing there. Carnelian removed his blood-ring and offered it.
Eagerly, the commander took it in his tattooed hand and held it up to the light. His whole frame visibly relaxed. He gave Carnelian back his ring. The Twins be thanked, Master. The Sun, our father's been searching for you.'
Carnelian almost groaned. 'When… how long ago?'
'He found my Master gone when he took up residence in this place, yesterday, when the sun still shone through the Amber Window.'
'I must go immediately to my chambers.'
'I'll escort you, Master.'
'Master. Oh, Master.'
The desperate relief in his guardsmen's voices alarmed him. He was dirty, standing there in an ammonite robe, and he had to face his father. The commander was watching him.
Thank you for your escort,' Carnelian said to him.
The man bowed but seemed reluctant to go. 'Your father, Master.'
Carnelian opened his arms so that the commander might clearly see his purple robe. 'Shall I go like this?'
The man's eyes blinked brightly in his half-black face.
'Once I'm properly attired I'll go to him.' He made a sign of dismissal. 'Now go, Ichorian.'
Carnelian turned his back on the commander, waiting to hear him walk away before unmasking and surveying his guardsmen. 'What is it?' he said, not managing to control the irritation in his voice.
They thumped to their knees in ones and twos, like fruit falling from a tree.
‘Stop grovelling,' he said dangerously. 'I'm in no mood for it.'
His anger only caused them to fall flat on their faces. 'Gods' blood!' he spat, throwing his hands up in exasperation. 'I know the Master's been here. What did you tell him?'
When none of them spoke up, he jabbed one of them with his toe. 'Get up, man. Tell me.'
The guardsman looked up, his face twitching. 'Craving your pardon, Master, but… we had to tell him… he is the Master.' 'And…?'
'He demanded to know where you were, Master. We told him we didn't rightly know… we had to tell how long you'd been away… that you'd gone away before.' The man cowered.
'And he was very angry?' Carnelian asked.
The man looked up, tearful. 'He's going to crucify us all.'
Carnelian felt the blood draining from his face.
The man must have seen this because his eyes darted out of sight like a snail's.
Carnelian squatted down. Touched their heads, saying gently, 'Now look at me.' He waited until he had their eyes. 'I won't allow even one of you to be put upon a cross.' He nodded into each face. 'Not one of you.' He stood up. 'Now get me some people. I need to be dressed, and quickly.'
They stood up, and one of them ran off.
'Master?'
He looked at the man expectantly.
'Master, the other Masters of our House…?'
Carnelian frowned. The other lineages?'
The man nodded. They've sent word that they're here and want to meet you, my Master.'
'I've no time for them,' said Carnelian as he moved towards his chamber. Once inside, he let the ammonite cloak slip off his shoulders and hung his head. Now his father.
The Master wishes to be formally attired?'
Carnelian whisked round to see a servant, head bowed, others kneeling behind him. He was sure that they were not part of the household he had left behind.
'You've just come from the coomb?'
That's so, my Master.'
'Why?'
'We were sent to bring the Master a court robe.' The servant indicated the golden suit standing against a wall. Carnelian walked over to it. It was similar to the suit he had worn before but it had different heraldry in the panel running down its front. He touched the chameleons writhing on a field of jades, emeralds and other green stones. Under his fingers their skins were a mottle of pearls. Their black opal eyes blinked. They looked more alive than geckos on a wall. It occurred to him that Fey had talked about sending him such a suit with the first household. He wondered why it had been so long in coming.
'If the Master'll allow, I'll co-ordinate his dressing?'
Carnelian turned to the new servant. 'As fast as you can.' He lifted his arms from his sides and they ran in to disrobe him. 'What news, co-ordinator’
The return of the Master and his son is longed for,' said the man without the slightest movement of his chameleon tattoo.
'Has the servant Tain arrived from the gates?' 'An unchameleoned boy, Master?' Carnelian grabbed the man's shoulders. 'You've seen him?'
The co-ordinator went waxy soft in his hands, melting away as Carnelian released him. 'Y-yes, Master. He was there yesterday, being prepared to come here.'
Carnelian smiled, longing to see his brother's face. He hardly noticed the cleaning, the putting on of the belt of hooks. He climbed onto the ranga and then they locked the court robe round him. They masked him. They built a crown upon his head. When they knotted a scarlet sash around his left wrist he remembered that all the Chosen were in mourning for the God Emperor. He allowed a few more adjustments then, feeling as large as a house, he strode from his chamber to face his father.
YKORIANA
Often I heard her speak
With a voice of angels
Words barbed and dripping poison
