produced were being twisted into ropes. Others he saw with waxy faces, painting tar over the jewelled colours of the tapestries they themselves had woven. One woman paused to wipe her eyes with the back of the hand that held a brush. She scanned the pattern under her hand then with a jerk she turned it black.
Carnelian wanted to close his eyes, clap his hands over his ears. He passed through the arch and almost ran along the alleyway. The arcade had lost its roof, and its row of columns down one side. He ignored the women. He would not turn his head even as they cried out to him. When he reached the covered way it was as if he had found shade from blazing sun. He passed the Masters' three doors, and at each guards fell to their knees upon the ridged floor. He ignored them, reached the steps, climbed them into sight of his father's door. His own men stood to one side of it but on the other there was a contingent of Aurum's yellow-faced guardsmen. All knelt. He bade one of his men announce him to the Master. The sea-ivory doors sounded as the man struck them. There was a mutter of voices. The man came back with a strange expression on his face. It took some moments for Carnelian to recognize it. Fear. The man was afraid of him. He fell before Carnelian and bowed his head. The Master says he can't see you' – his head nodded – 'my Master. When the time's right he'll send for you.'
Carnelian looked up at his father's doors with hatred. He wished to throw them down. To erupt in among the gathered Masters. To drive them like vultures from the carcass of his home. To send them winging back across the sea to the vaunted glory of their roosts in Osrakum. But he could not. His father's words lay across those doors like the seal on a tomb. His shoulders fell. The man was still there at his feet. He wanted to lift the fear from him. He put his hand out to touch him. Its shaking betrayed him. Carnelian snatched it back, turned and walked away.
THE BLOOD-RING
Apotheosis transubstantiates the blood of the elected candidate into ichor. The fractions of this holy blood that run in the veins of the Chosen derive ultimately from consanguinity with a God Emperor. Blood-rings are worn as symbol and proof of this relation. Each ring is inscribed with a blood-taint that can be found tabulated in the Books of Blood. Entries will be found arranged according to the Houses. The blood-taint of an offspring is derived by averaging the blood-taints of its procreators. (extract from a beadcord manual used in the training of the Wise)
Carnelian went to seek solitude among the summer pavilions. The courtyards he crossed were empty, unmarred, familiar. He entered one of the pavilions where a bloom of frost dulled the tiles. He wandered maskless, blowing his cloudy breath. He warmed a tile with a puff. Rubbed away the cold traceries to reveal the poppies beneath. He broke the pane of ice that filled the fountain bowl. He sat on a stone bench and recalled summers there but refused to indulge himself with tears.
At last he put on his mask and slipped back through the ruins, a shadow with a gleaming face. He passed scenes of torchlit industry that showed his world being destroyed. When he reached his room he closed the door and slumped back against it. The ache around his eyes had spread to make his face as stiff as the gold of his mask.
He waited, blinded by the flames. Tain came at last. They saw each other's pain. Before Tain had a chance to say anything, Carnelian sent him off to find Keal, and they came back together.
Carnelian looked at Keal. 'You look drained.'
Keal was sure Carnelian looked worse than he did, but he just nodded. 'I've been overseeing our work on the ship.' He hung his head. 'It's a nasty business.'
'Our stores?'
He looked up. That as well, but I was thinking of the ship. It's strange to wander in the warrens beneath her decks. You can feel the floor moving under your feet and hear her creaking all round you. It's brought back memories of coming here… when I was a child. And locked away in her sunless depths,' his frown creased the head of his chameleon tattoo, 'there are men, or something like men.' He shook his head, as if he were trying to dislodge the image in his mind. There was only enough light to make out the merest outlines, but they were there all right, you could smell them.'
'Sartlar,' said Carnelian.
Tain's eyes opened wide. They brought those monsters here?'
'Not monsters, Tain, half-men. Don't judge them too harshly. If it wasn't for them the Commonwealth'd starve. They work all her fields. Their labour is used everywhere by the Masters. They're not monsters but beasts of burden.'
'Monsters or not, I pity them there in that ship,' said Keal.
Carnelian looked at him. He imagined living out his life in the belly of the black ship, and he grimaced. ‘You've been to see the Master?'
Keal nodded. 'He and the visiting Master, the gigantic one, check on everything we do. Grane reports back to them about the work in the Hold and I tell them about the ship.'
'Work…?' snorted Tain.
They both looked round at him.
'When will she be ready, Keal?' said Carnelian.
Three days, maybe four.'
'Who's to go?'
Keal glanced at Tain. He began to list the names of guardsmen. Carnelian nodded at each name, considering the choices, asking questions. He stopped his brother when he began to list those not of the tyadra. 'You've not spoken your name, Keal.'
'I’m to go, and as commander. Grane's to remain here in the Master's place.'
'You don't seem overjoyed by your promotion.'
'I feel the honour, Carnie, really I do. It's just…'
'I know.'
'We're leaving them to die,' said Keal, close to tears. Tain's eyes were already wet. Carnelian would not allow himself to share their despair.
'Come, let's not give up yet. I've brought you here, Keal, to ask you if you'd do something for me.'
'Anything.'
'You've access to the Master.' Keal paled.
'Are the other Masters always with him?'
'Not all of them, just the terrible giant.'
'He frightens me as well, Keal, but if I'm to do anything I must speak with the Master. Will you ask him if he'll give me audience?'
'You ask when you could command.' There'll be no commanding between us.' 'Of course I'll do it, but don't count on it, Carnie. The Master's been stony since they came.'
While they waited, Carnelian had Tain clean off his body-paint. He was ready when Keal came back to say that the Master would see him. Keal had brought an escort with him.
As Carnelian walked through the Hold with Keal, he prepared in his mind what he would say. Along the length of the Long Court he looked straight ahead. He knew his father did not appreciate fevered argument. He must stay calm.
When they reached the sea-ivory door, Carnelian was relieved that only men of their tyadra stood outside. He squeezed Keal's arm. The doors opened before him and he went in.
'Perhaps you could help me choose which of these to take, Carnelian,' said Suth. He held up a folding- screen book whose binding was twisted with jewels. Many more books glimmered on the table beside him.
Reluctantly, Carnelian picked one up, smoother than skin, eyed with leather-lidded watery tourmalines. With care, he opened the first panel. Tracing his finger down the parchment, he unravelled the first two pictures into words.
'Books are doors,' his father muttered. 'And the glyphs are the keys that open them,' said Carnelian.
His father smiled at him. 'You remember that…?' His eyes fell again on the book he held, then looked up. 'Do you remember the lessons we had here?'
