movement of her knee and thigh, he clung to the crossbeam of Blur's chair and watched Osidian's rain-glazed face contorting, but it was impossible to pick out words from the rush and chew of sound.
A cry from up ahead made Carnelian release the crossbeam and stand away from Blur to look down the slope. The Plainsmen were dotted here and there below him, but a group had gathered on a promontory that pushed out into a gulf of air. Carnelian made sure there was no peril in Blur's path then scrambled down to join them.
He did not have to reach them before he saw that the floor of the ravine fell away from wall to towering wall. He pushed in among the youths and came to stand beside Ranegale and Fern, who were gazing into the depths of an abyss. Carnelian let his eyes follow the cliff down through the veiling rainfall, down and further down to where, remotely, a black river ran.
They retreated from that precipitous fall and found a cave mouth in the side of the ravine between two cascades. While the others coaxed the aquar into the darkness, Carnelian helped Fern and Ravan lean the corpses against the rock.
Ravan looked morose. 'Do we have to leave them out here?'
Fern put his arm around his brother then led him away. Carnelian followed them, his hand on Blur's neck, the dead men's aquar plodding heavily behind.
The walls of the cave were varnished with running water. As Carnelian crept deeper in, Osidian's ravings seemed to grow louder. Carnelian's eyes adjusted to the gloom allowing him to see a floor strewn with the boulders of crouching aquar, their glassy eyes catching the light.
'Here will do,' Fern said, at last.
They asked Blur to kneel and then carefully lifted Osidian from her chair and laid him out. Carnelian turned Osidian's head so his face might catch what little light there was. His eyes were closed and twitching; sounds were dribbling from his lips.
'What's he saying?' Fern asked.
Carnelian shrugged. 'It's his fever speaking.'
'Or the Skyfather through him,' said Ravan.
Carnelian became uneasy when he saw with what awe the youth was gazing upon Osidian. Frowning, Fern saw it too. He turned away and saw some of the other youths filing back to the entrance looking slight and vulnerable.
'They're the ones I pity,' said Fern.
Carnelian looked at him. 'Why did you bring them then?'
Fern grimaced. To let them see the world. They'd come of age and the Tribe's tributaries had need of an escort on their way to the Mountain.'
Carnelian turned back to look at the youths. 'I would've thought you could come up with a better escort than a posse of children.'
Ravan glared at Carnelian. 'We are men.'
Fern smiled and looked at his brother approvingly. 'It is a venerable tradition of our people.'
Carnelian sensed in them both a nobility that did not sit well with what he knew of their mission. 'Is it also a venerable tradition of your people to prey upon travellers?'
Fern's face became wooden. 'As much as it is a tradition of your people to take our children from us.'
Carnelian despised himself for having assumed so easily the haughty judging stance of his kind. Still he was enough the Master to be stung by the disapproval on the brothers' faces.
'The people on the road are innocent of the policies of the Masters.'
'How else can we strike at you?' said Fern.
Carnelian saw with his mind's eye Osrakum's soaring mountain wall, her gates, her turreted dragons. The vision melted. Fern's intense dark eyes were piercing through his defences and he regretted his insensitivity.
'We're here now and in your power.'
'But now we have you, you seem to me only men and not the angels we hate.'
Carnelian thought of Jaspar, Ykoriana and the other Masters he knew and felt he was misleading Fern. 'I'm untypical of my kind.'
Fern frowned and then glanced towards the mouth of the cave. Carnelian had more questions but could see Fern's impatience to join his people. 'You needn't wait for me.'
Fern gave him a curt nod and walked off, but to Carnelian's surprise, Ravan insisted on helping him make Osidian comfortable. This done, they threw damp blankets round their shoulders and walked to the entrance together. A couple of the youths shuffled aside to let Carnelian through. He found a place to sit between Fern and Cloud. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them with the blanket as he saw they had done and then he joined them gazing out at the cascades and the slanting rain.
'What do we do now?' asked Fern.
'Let's decide in the morning,' said Ranegale.
So near the cave mouth, Carnelian could feel the rain's spitting dance as cold pinpricks on his feet.
'What I wouldn't give for a fire,' said Loskai.
There were grunts of agreement as everyone huddled closer. The youths whispered to each other but the men were silent as they watched the world outside grow dark. Looking sidelong at their faces, Carnelian could not avoid seeing how much they resembled his brothers now far away in Osrakum. He was barely aware of the knot in his stomach beginning to work loose as he settled back into the warmth of their bodies.
THE ANOINTING
Ichor is the burning blood.
From blood comes life; from ichor, Creation.
Blood sacrifice is the agent of this transformation.
Ichorous blood proofs the mortal vessel to receive fire from the sky.
Every drop of blood within the vessel this fire ignites to purest ichor.
Light seeped with thunder down the cave tunnel to wake Carnelian. He lifted his head and found his pillow was Blur's neck. Her eye plumes fluttered as he sat up. Plainsmen wrapped in blankets lay between the aquar.
Soon everyone was rising, yawning, stretching sleep from their limbs. After checking on Osidian, now as silent as the dead, Carnelian went to join the men gathering at the entrance of the cave to survey the colourless world outside.
Ranegale pulled a blanket over his head and went out. Loskai followed, then Cloud with Krow trailing after him. Fern raised his eyebrows at Carnelian and, when he gave him a nod, Fern crushed his curls under a blanket and ducked into the rain with Ravan. Cursing, Carnelian rubbed his lips over the blessed dryness of his own blanket before he cast it over him and followed.
Rain pattered on the blanket, which grew heavier until wetness began soaking through. Ignoring the discomfort, Carnelian had to peer to keep Fern in sight. Soon they had joined Ranegale and the others on the edge of the abyss. Around them water was spouting into space. Craning over, Carnelian could make out nothing in the vague and shifting greyness. Ranegale and Cloud were blinking away rain as they examined the walls of the abyss. Carnelian allowed his own gaze to wander over the pallid rock piled layer upon layer, everywhere pocked with holes. Countless ledges shelved the walls, in places seeming to form ladders that faded away into the trembling veils of rain.
'Up or down?' said Cloud, brushing a concerned glance over Krow and the other youths.
Heads turned to look back up the slope, which was a frothing cascade.
'We must descend,' said Ranegale grimly. 'What's the point of climbing that? If we reached the top, we'd
