he tried not to imagine them under his feet feasting on the pygmy render.
Later, when Fern relieved him, Carnelian told him what he had seen and then, reluctantly, went to his blanket. At first he tried lying with his back to the chasm, his eyes closed, but his ears kept him awake, listening for the padding of sartlar feet. He rolled over to face his fear.
That was worse. Every sound, real or imagined, forced his eyes open to search the darkness.
At last he gave up and moved to Fern's side.
'Can't sleep,' Carnelian whispered.
Fern smiled. 'During your watch, I was only pretending.'
Carnelian sat down close to his friend.
'It's cold,' he said.
Shyly, Fern opened his blanket to welcome him. Hesitating, Carnelian shuffled closer. They managed to wrap both blankets round them. Silent, they kept watch together.
Carnelian woke to find Fern lying against him asleep. For some moments he allowed his eyes to wander over the dark face so close to his. He smiled but then jerked round to look down towards the chasm.
'What…?' his friend blurted, blinking, confused.
Carnelian could see the Plainsmen sleeping peacefully around their hearths. Some were stirring, perhaps woken by Fern's voice, among them Ravan. Ignoring the youth's stare, Carnelian turned to his friend.
'Sorry.'
Fern yawned and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. 'We fell asleep then?'
Thankfully there's no harm done.'
They stood up and stretched, groaning, their backs aching from the way they had been sleeping, propping each other up. Still wrapped in his blanket, Carnelian started walking down towards the chasm. Soon the sun would be scorching down but the morning was still cold and the ground glittered with dew.
Fern came to join him. 'Where are you going?'
Carnelian turned. To wait for our sartlar friends.'
'You were right. In the morning light, they seem less terrifying.'
When they reached the edge of the chasm, they saw it was clogged with mist. Carnelian was relieved to find the Ladder was where it had been the night before. He leaned over and looked along the wall of the chasm to the sartlar ladder.
'No sign of them.'
'Everyone sleeps late after a night of feasting,' said Fern.
Carnelian turned and saw his friend's wry grin, then walked back towards one of the anchor baobabs. When he reached it he sat, leaning his back against its trunk.
'You're going to wait for them?' asked Fern.
'I want to make sure we finish the Ladder today.'
'Do you mean to confront them?'
Carnelian frowned. 'I'm not sure yet. Do we have enough food to share with them?'
Fern frowned and shook his head. 'I'll wait with you.'
He sat down beside Carnelian and, closing their eyes, they basked in the morning sun.
The sartlar came creeping over the chasm rim, bent as if they were carrying burdens on their backs. They fell still when Carnelian rose and gibbered as he approached.
'Kor,' he called, searching for her. Though he could not see the woman this did not mean she was not there. Sartlar were more alike than aquar.
One detached from the herd. He recognized Kor by her shambling gait. As she came closer she sank to her knees. Behind her came the rest, in sullen subservience. He tried to wave them away but they did not respond. Their heads were bowed down to their feet and he could not tell if any were even looking at him.
'Come, Kor, follow me,' he said and stooped. At his touch she jerked violently, causing him to pull his hand away. He watched her get slowly to her feet, groaning.
'Are you in pain?'
The sartlar looked up at him. 'For the living the world holds nothing but pain.'
He wondered that philosophy should come from such a creature.
'Follow me.' He turned his back and walked away but did not hear her following. Looking back, he saw she had remained where she was.
'Come on,' he said more insistently. His tone seemed to jerk her to life and she hobbled after him. They walked together towards the anchor baobab in which he had found the render.
'What's in this tree, Kor?'
'We have to labour on the Ladder, Master.'
Tell me what this tree contains.'
The sartlar looked up at him through her hair. 'It's a tree, Master.'
'A hollow one.'
Her shoulders rose and fell.
'I've seen what lies in it.'
She lifted her face so that her chin emerged through her hair. He saw her raw lips opening. 'We have to eat.'
Carnelian's scrutiny lingered on her mouth with its rotting teeth. He tore his eyes away. 'Surely you could have found something else?'
'We could have eaten each other, Master.'
Carnelian failed to discern any emotion in her voice. 'You killed the pygmies.'
Again the shrug.
'Did you?' he insisted.
They tried to starve us, Master.'
Carnelian's eyes were drawn to the Isle of Flies. 'What about their masters?'
'We didn't go there,' said Kor.
He looked down at her.
The Darkness fed on the rainmen.'
'What?'
Her head fell.
'Do you mean Oracles?' Carnelian remembered something Osidian had said when he returned from the island. Cannibalism. Had a sartlar siege reduced the Oracles to that? Whatever had happened, Carnelian could guess what would befall this woman and her people should he tell Morunasa even the little she had confessed. Yet if he said nothing, who else might suffer? Osidian's death would not change the necessity to return the Upper Reach to the Oracles. If Morunasa was typical, they were merciless. Carnelian needed time to think.
'Go. Finish the Ladder.'
Kor stood like a boulder. 'Will the other Master return with rainmen?' 'I don't know.'
'Will you show them what's in the hollow tree?'
He shook his head. 'I'm not sure…'
They would feed us alive to their Darkness.'
Her filthy mouth again drew his queasy fascination. He imagined what it had been eating. Suddenly he needed to be rid of her.
'You disgust me,' he spat and immediately felt his anger gone. Almost, he apologized.
'Yes, Master.' Kor made a painful prostration before him and then retreated towards the other sartlar. Carnelian looked on grimacing, feeling something of the desperation that had driven the creatures to eating human flesh. He had experienced their lot. What right had he to judge them?
As the sartlar toiled, raising the last section of the Ladder, Carnelian, Fern, Krow and some other Plainsmen struggled to remove the girdling cables from the anchor trees. They snapped several spear hafts in the knots before they managed to work them loose.
By this time, the sartlar were drawing the ends of the Ladder up onto level ground. As had been expected, these reached just to the anchor trees but no further. It was the turn of the Plainsmen. Using thin rope as a model, Carnelian had already shown them what he wanted to do. Using knots he had learned as a child on his island, they
