It was strange that dark time should now appear so bright. At least then, a few pieces of his world had still remained unscattered.
Feeling someone beside him, he looked up. Grief sat over Fern's face like a mask. Carnelian saw the brown eyes registering surprise, perhaps at detecting his compassion, but then they flicked away.
This one's conscious,' Fern said to his father, in their tongue.
Carnelian considered the man who had saved him from the slavers. His eyes were drawn to the brass bright against Fern's dark throat. The boss bore no legionary cypher and the band appeared to be free of rank and service sliders.
Carnelian became aware Fern was watching him. As their eyes meshed the barbarian erupted into anger.
'You have to get out of the saddle-chair,' he said in thickly accented Vulgate.
'I don't have the strength,' Carnelian said.
'We'll lift you.'
Carnelian saw the opportunity. 'Did you have to lift the other Master?'
'We don't have time for debate.' Stormrane grabbed Carnelian's arm and pulled on it.
Carnelian cried out as his spine twisted.
Fern's voice came through the ringing pain. 'You're hurting him.'
Carnelian opened his eyes and saw Stormrane throwing off his son's restraining hand. Carnelian could not help noticing it lacked a middle finger.
'If you're so concerned about this one, you sort him out,' snapped Stormrane. He snatched the shoulder of the staring youth and led him away. Fern watched them go with the look of one who had just been slapped. He became aware of Carnelian.
Though he is an angel, your friend burns with fever.'
Carnelian looked from the barbarian's four-fingered hand into his face, fear for Osidian freezing everything else out. 'Can you let me see him?'
The barbarian crossed his arms, hiding his mutilated hands in his armpits.
'I can hardly tell you apart. Are you brothers?'
Carnelian was touched by the man's vulnerability.
'Well?'
Carnelian regarded the frowning mahogany face and wondered what answer to give. A nod was safer than the truth. 'Please show me where he is?'
Fern shook his head. 'We don't want you near each other.'
Carnelian considered befriending this barbarian by confessing that he understood their tongue, but decided this was an advantage he could ill afford to give away.
'You mean, the older man that was here doesn't.'
Fern's face darkened. That older man is my father, who with good reason blames you for the killing of our kin.'
'Do you?'
'What do you think!'
Carnelian caught a look in Fern's face that belied his words. 'Can you do anything for… my brother's fever?'
Fern looked surprised. 'You believe it possible he might die?'
Carnelian worried about what power his answer might lose him.
Fern frowned. 'If he were like other men there would be a chance he might wake from it. Until then, all that can be done for him is to give him water and what food he will swallow.'
Carnelian saw he had to speak. 'He is a man.' Clearly, Fern had difficulty believing this.
'Will you see to feeding him yourself?'
When Fern gave a ragged nod, Carnelian decided that would have to be enough. The man made motions indicating that Carnelian should climb out of the saddle-chair. Twisting sent a deepening stab into his back.
'Perhaps it'd be better if I stay here.'
Fern set his jaw. 'No.'
'Are you afraid I'll escape?'
'Why wouldn't you?'
Carnelian was reluctant to attempt an explanation. 'How far could I get without reins?'
Fern's mouth curved with contempt. 'Real riders don't need them.'
Carnelian was too weak to argue.
It took them a while to manoeuvre him out onto the ground. He stood, swaying a little, stooping to relieve the agony which was squeezing a cold sweat from his skin.
Looking at Fern's feet, Carnelian began chuckling. The dark mirth bubbled out until over it he could hear the man, puzzled, asking him what was happening.
Carnelian managed to speak. 'I was just thinking…' Chuckling took over again. 'I might… might be more comfortable if you gave me back my ropes.'
Rain ran down Carnelian's face. It was the only part of him exposed. The rest sloped down to where, just beyond his feet, the two poles of the drag-cradle were gouging the earth. He could see their double track scratching off over the wake of chopped-up mud left by the aquar. Beyond, the land stretched featureless, greyed by the downpour. Above him the tail of Fern's aquar swung like a tiller, narrowing to a whip that sometimes stroked his feet. Blankets and leather bands swaddled him to the drag-cradle frame. It quivered with each step the aquar took. Dozing, Carnelian thought he was back on the accursed ship that had brought him with his father and his brothers from their island to the shore of the Three Lands and the Commonwealth of the Masters.
When day began fading to night, the barbarians called a halt. The stillness of the drag-cradle came as a blessed relief. Fern walked out in front of Carnelian, his face haggard, his legs and cloak splattered with mud. He was motioning instructions. Carnelian felt a tremor in the frame. Turning his head, he saw brown hands holding on to the wood.
'What're they doing?' he asked.
Fern glanced down at him. 'Unhitching your drag-cradle from my aquar.'
His dark eyes flicked away. The frame gave a shudder that awoke Carnelian's pain. With a rasping, he felt the poles come free even as the aquar's tail started feeding away over him, its tip dragging up the blankets towards his face. He closed his eyes, anticipating its touch, but then he felt the frame being lowered to the ground.
He opened his eyes and blinked away the rain. 'What news of the dragons?' he said to no one in particular.
Fern loomed over him, issuing instructions in their barbarian tongue. Carnelian could hear the suck and splash of footfalls as the youths moved away.
Fern's face came close enough to Carnelian's that it sheltered him from the rain. He examined Fern's brown eyes. He could smell him and feel the heat of his anger.
Fern bared his teeth. 'Don't imagine they'll rescue you. I'd kill you myself before I let that happen.'
He disappeared. When the constant patter of rain on Carnelian's face had cooled his own anger, he began to wonder if he was going to be left all night in the rain. When Fern returned, it was to force some strips of leather into Carnelian's mouth which he had to chew or else choke. It was only as his mouth began to fill with musty flavour that he realized it was dried meat.
For days, Carnelian was dragged through a constant pelting rain. His blankets clung heavy and sodden. Often the mud grew so deep the poles stuck fast. As Fern's aquar struggled to break loose, Carnelian would suffer with each shudder. Though the barbarians were always hidden from him, he could hear the desperation in their voices as they urged their aquar on. Their march was a monotonous slap and suck amidst the downpour. Carnelian knew they were sending lookouts ahead. A voice would shout something down from the sky. The raiders would not pause but would continue on until the kraal tower would slide into Carnelian's view and he would watch it shrink and fade.
Each evening as the day was squeezed black by the rumbling sky, Fern fed him more strips of dried meat. Carnelian lubricated his chewing by opening his mouth and letting it fill with rain. When asked, Fern would confirm
