He strummed a note from one of the ropes he had insisted they leave attached to the fold in the Ladder as a precaution should one of the forked posts fail. Fern stood by one of the anchor trees running his hands over its cable girdle.
'What are you doing?' Carnelian called out.
Fern grimaced. 'I can't see how the cables are going to be long enough to reach these trees.' He showed Carnelian where the cable had been sawn through. They'll have lost all the length you can see wrapped around this trunk.'
Carnelian considered the problem. He walked round the tree, squinting at the girdle in the failing light. 'Is this made from one continuous piece?'
Fern said it was.
Then we shall have to unwrap it and somehow or other attach it to its original cable.' 'How?'
Carnelian stood back and allowed his gaze to run up the trunk. He noticed a narrow opening in the bark high above. He pointed up at it. This one's hollow too.'
Fern looked at it. Then…' he said, his hands searching the bark. 'Aha,' he said and hung himself from a crevice. 'All the hollows have handholds up to them.'
'Another burial?'
Fern shrugged. 'Climb and see.'
Carnelian gazed up. 'Why not,' he said. 'I'm curious to see these husk pygmies.'
Fern guided Carnelian's hand to the crevice and he found another slightly higher to the right of the first. It took him a while to find some for his feet.
'You forget how small a man this was made for,' said Fern from behind him. 'You should take them two, maybe three at a time.'
Taking his advice, Carnelian began climbing the tree.
As he neared the opening he became aware of an unpleasant smell. He screwed up his nose and looked down at Fern.
'I think the bodies in this one are more recent than the others.'
He reached up to the lip of the hole, then pulled himself up into the hollow. Crouching on its edge, he covered his nose and mouth with his hand. It was too dark to see anything. He leaned out.
'Fern, could you bring me some fire to see by?'
He heard his friend running off and waited, feeling the moist breath of whatever it was that lay within the tree. It seemed an age before he saw the shaking flicker of Fern returning.
'Shall I come up too?'
'What about the fire?'
Grinning, Fern wedged the brand between his teeth and began to climb. Soon the flames were blinding Carnelian.
'Here, take it,' said Fern.
Carnelian reached down and plucked the offered branch, carefully, drew its fire past his squinting eyes and pushed it into the hollow. What he saw made him start.
Fern cried out: 'What's the matter?'
Carnelian made space for his friend to squeeze in beside him. A dark pool filled the hollow, its surface broken by a face the size of a child's.
'Perhaps the rain got in,' Carnelian suggested.
'I don't think so,' said Fern. He took the branch from Carnelian's hand and waved it over the pool.*See how thick the liquid is?'
'Like soup.'
'Render.'
Carnelian looked at his friend, whose face was luridly lit by the flames.
'Render: the stuff they fed us in the legions. It's given to men and aquar and, I heard, the dragons too. Jellied animal flesh, fat and bone. Didn't much care for it myself, though it was extravagantly laced with salt.. A veteran told me I’d grow to like it.'
Carnelian looked with horror at the face floating in the pool. 'A different kind of animal this.'
'Only raveners eat human flesh.'
They shared their disgust.
'Look, it has no eyes,' said Fern.
Carnelian saw the sockets were pools of render. He turned away, speaking between retches. 'Come on… Let's leave…'
They clambered to the ground as quickly as they could. Sweaty, they both looked up at the opening and shuddered. Carnelian found himself remembering their first night in the Upper Reach when he had had the nightmare. Taking deep breaths, he began relating it to Fern.
'I thought I had dreamed the shapes I saw moving around here.'
They looked at each other. The sartlar,' said Fern.
Carnelian nodded. 'How many pygmies do you think that pool might hold?'
'Depends on how deep it is.'
The night was populated by huge, menacing baobabs. There might be other trees like this.'
Fern shook his head. 'Every tree nearby save these has been investigated for water.'
'It seems that Morunasa was right, the pygmies didn't flee after all.'
Fern's eyes widened. Then it was the sartlar who killed them, who cut the Ladder free.'
Fear was added to Carnelian's queasiness. 'Why?'
Fern looked sick. 'And we've been sleeping night after night without posting guards.'
Carnelian tried to work it out.
Fern spoke first. 'We must go and cut the ladder to their caves.'
Carnelian took Fern's arm and pulled him away towards the knoll. 'Better to face this in the morning. Tonight, you and I will stand watch.'
Together?' Fern asked.
'No,' said Carnelian, 'one at a time. We'll each need some sleep.'
Fern stared at him aghast. 'You might manage to sleep, I know I won't.'
'Well, we should at least try and, Fern, it might be better if we weren't to mention any of this to the others until we know what's going on. There's no need to frighten them needlessly.'
'And then of course there's the Ladder to be finished,' said Fern.
'Yes, the Ladder,' said Carnelian glancing back. He shuddered, sure he could see shadows creeping around the anchor baobabs.
MUTINY
A war can turn on the decision of a moment.
Carnelian took the first watch. He sat with his back to the embers so that their light would not blind him to any movements in the night. Around him baobabs loomed, thrusting their skeletal arms into the starry sky. The waterfall grumbled. It was cold. He wrapped his blanket tighter round him and dug his nails into the palms of his hands to stave off sleep.
The moon rising full oozed its silver among the baobabs, betraying stark shadows gathered around the anchor trees. Frozen by the sight, wetting his lips, Carnelian readied a cry of alarm should they come creeping towards the knoll.
His eyes continued to see the sartlar even when he was certain they had returned to their caves. After that
