overlooking the camp. The days of his captivity haunted Carnelian, driving him to hide from the rhythm of the rain upon his head. He chose a tree of his own. Brooding, he saw below him the Marula sitting like basalt boulders in a stream, sunk up to their haunches in the mud, their heads hanging, sometimes chewing at raw fernroot because it was impossible to kindle a fire.
From his eyrie Carnelian watched the level of the Blackwater rise. Three days after the downpour began, its waters had already risen high enough to swallow all its rocks and pools. The dark sliding water foamed in a rushing sheet which the Isle of Flies cut with its stony prow. The river became a flood. The murmur of the falls swelled to a roar that could be heard even above the tumult of the rain.
Day after day, with nothing to do but to watch the raging white cataracts, or the men miserable below, Carnelian began to feel that the rain that had washed away the days would soon wash away his mind and leave him only the emptiness he had known as a slave upon the road. He looked down upon the Marula and felt he had abandoned them. He descended from his tree. By the time he reached the mire between the roots, he was already drenched. He walked among the Marula, having to shout for them to notice he was there. Some lifted eyes that seemed dull against the varnished wood of their faces. The pressure of the downpour was making Carnelian stoop and, thinking he meant to sit down, some Marula made space for him. He could not deny their entreating eyes. He setded down into the mud holding a blanket over his head. Through the rain's grey veils the baobabs loomed like the sepulchres of the Labyrinth in faraway Osrakum.
Carnelian woke into the ending of the world. Beneath him, the earth was shaking apart. He fought to calm the gibbering bodies round him. Arms clung to him like chains. He could hear a rush and roaring rumble as if a herd of heaveners were stampeding around the knoll in the blackness. He squinted trying to see. The knoll and all its trees were turning slowly. No, it was the escarpment flowing past, a tide of earth pouring down into the chasm. He stared in horror. Moaning blew round him in a gale. The movement slowed. The earth settled, groaning. Some lonely voices broke raggedly, then fell silent. All he could hear was the gende hiss of the rain and the dull percussive roar of the cataracts.
Carnelian had to wait until light began to filter through the curtain of rain. He blinked away water and peered. The land around the knoll seemed gouged with immense wounds. He disengaged himself from the Marula waking all around him. He rose drunkenly, staggered over the ditch and began making his way down the slope. He had to look down at his feet so as not to get them snagged in the thickets of men's limbs.
When he reached the baobab wall he saw that under the pressure of the landslide, one of the trunks had hinged out like a door. Mud choked the gap. He clambered up the mound until he reached high enough to look out. What he saw made him gape. The ashy clearing was gone. Red sandstone showed raw through a film of mud and darkly foaming water. The earth that had once clothed it had been washed over the edge of the chasm. He remembered Kor's warning.
He became aware of the black bodies appearing around him, hunching, crossing their arms over their chests, their eyes wide with incomprehension.
He saw Krow among them, gaping.
'Keep them here.'
The youth looked alarmed. 'Where are you going, Master?'
Ignoring his cries, Carnelian slid down into the streams gushing over the exposed rock. Feeling he was treading on the earth's open wounds, he made his way carefully down towards the Ladder anchor trees. Amazingly, these had resisted the pouring mud which had piled against them. Carnelian climbed this mound. On its summit he saw what he had expected to see: the Ladder cables had snapped. Hugging the soaking hide of one of the baobabs, he inched around until his foot struck against a knot. Using the cable as a handrail, he edged towards the chasm one step at a time. Rivulets spluttered dark water out into space. Each time he slipped he would freeze, clinging to the cable. Each time he forced himself to go on, until, at last, he was close enough to be able to crane over the edge.
Far below, the Blackwater was swelling a lake behind the dam the landslide had dumped across the floor of the chasm. The Ladder had been ripped from the precipice and lay broken in the mud. The single anchor baobab for the ladder down to the saltcaves had deflected the mud. The sartlar were not marooned.
Back in the camp, Carnelian was overcome by a violent shaking as the full horror of what had happened soaked into him. In the faces of the Manila he saw fear that the downpour might wash away the rest of the world. A shout turned every eye to look up the scoured escarpment. Aquar were filing down, a march that wound away as far as Carnelian could see. He leapt to his feet.
'Plainsmen,' he cried, feeling a new rush of life. Marula jumped from his path as he ran down the knoll. He reached the baobab wall and clambered onto it. The riders were close enough for him to recognize Fern.
He slid down into the mud, then tore up the escarpment. The lead aquar knelt, allowing Fern to spring out of his saddle-chair and run towards him.
'It's you,' Carnelian gasped. They gazed at each other. Fern examined him with a look of concern.
'Are you all right?'
Carnelian nodded. 'How's your mother, Sil, Leaf, the others?'
'Well enough,' said Fern, nodding grimly. He looked out over the devastation. 'What happened?'
Carnelian saw Fern was hiding something, but knew this was not the time to probe for more. 'We felled the baobabs… the rain -'
'Carnie,' cried a girl's voice.
Carnelian saw Poppy flying towards him and opened his arms. When he caught her, he squeezed her, lifted her and spun her round and round. She shrieked with excitement and threw her arms around his neck.
'Fern told me you wouldn't want me here, but you're glad to see me, aren't you, Carnie? Tell me you're glad to see me.'
'Of course I am…' He sat her astride his hip, grinning at her through tears, then saw her face pale as she stared gaping over his shoulder. He spun round to confront the horror, but it was only some of his Marula spilling down the knoll. Marula. He pulled her head into his neck. How could he have forgotten she had witnessed the massacre of her people?
'Raveners. Raveners,' she said, against his skin. He ran his fingers through her hair and rocked her. They're only men, Poppy, only men.'
REVOLT
A spark could set the world aflame.
Carnelian stood with Osidian and Morunasa looking down into the chasm.
This is a disaster,' said Morunasa.
'A setback, certainly,' said Osidian.
Morunasa looked at him aghast. 'Without salt the Lower Reach…'
Though Osidian's face was showing concern, Carnelian sensed he was not wholly displeased with the turn of events.
The Ladder can be remade,' said Osidian.
Morunasa gazed down at the remains. 'It took years to make and that was before we had the cliff face smoothed.'
Osidian put his hand on Carnelian's shoulder. 'I'm sure my friend here will have it done before that.'
Carnelian tried to imagine the work involved. 'If we can salvage the old structure… perhaps.'
Osidian turned to Morunasa. 'You see?'
'At least the ladder down to the saltcaves has survived,' said Carnelian.
Osidian ignored him. Morunasa looked grim.
'My brethren will be unable to come up with pygmies.
