Osidian loosed one hand to point. That pair, just above the horizon.'
Carnelian followed the pointing finger and, with some more help from Osidian, found the stars.
'Of course, this instrument is laughably primitive… Let your right fist slide a little down the spear.'
Carnelian did so.
'Not so far.'
Carnelian moved his fist up a little. 'A little more.' Carnelian obliged.
The Wise use finely calibrated cross-staves.' He whistled softly. Their books do not lie: this far south the stars do sit very low.'
'What does it matter?'
Their height will tell us how far south we are.' Carnelian frowned. 'Sorcery?'
Osidian chuckled. 'Of a sort. The sky turns around the axis stars. The Wise say it is the suspension point of the carapace. The earth is formed on the dome of the lower half of the shell of the Turtle. The further south one is, the shallower the angle at which one views the axis stars.'
Osidian had Carnelian check the cross was perfect and then Carnelian had to adjust his right fist a little. 'Now, stay perfectly still.'
Osidian carefully lifted the horizontal spear off Carnelian's lower hand and came to peer at the vertical one. Carnelian flinched when Osidian produced a blade. He lifted it so that it touched Carnelian's upper hand and there cut a mark into the spear shaft. He did the same just above Carnelian's lower hand.
'You can let go now.'
Carnelian did so and stepped back as Osidian plucked the spear free. He lifted it up and peered at it. Carnelian could see his lips were moving.
'You're counting?'
The notches.'
'And?'
'There were almost exactly five between your fists.'
'Which means?'
The angle is five twentieths.'
Carnelian made a noise of exasperation that caused Osidian to look up from the spear.
The Labyrinth in Osrakum is eight twentieths, nine four-hundredths and fifteen eight-thousandths.' 'Blood fractions?'
'Quyan fractions which are used for describing the blood taint but which here indicate the inclination of the axis stars.'
'Did we not already know we were far to the south of Osrakum?'
'We did, but now we also know exactly how far south we are. If my memory serves, Makar is close to the most southerly point of the Guarded Land, which I recall to be five twentieths and eighteen four-hundredths. Estimating distances from what the barbarian told me, the reading we have just taken suggests we are north of our destination.'
'Which means?'
'Which means, my Lord, we shall proceed across this plain a little south of east.'
'What if we miss the Twostone koppie?'
'No matter. We cannot miss the basalt ridge. Once we reach that, the barbarians should be able to lead us the rest of the way.'
Carnelian looked back where the fire was glowing in among the Plainsmen like a candle in a lamp. Osidian gathered up the spears.
'Let us go and inform the barbarians of the good news.'
'How can you possibly know where we are when we do not know ourselves?' asked Loskai.
Osidian smiled coldly. 'I know many things you do not.'
Fern grimaced as he saw Krow and others nodding. 'With respect, Master, you've never been here before.'
'Nevertheless, barbarian, I know the direction in which the koppie of the Twostone lies.'
Loskai scowled at the fire. This is ridiculous,' he grumbled in the Ochre tongue.
Ravan turned his glare from Carnelian to Loskai. The Master did find a way across the swamp.'
Loskai scowled, his mouth opening to say something. He closed it, shook his head and turned back to the flames.
Ravan allowed himself a tiny smile of triumph and then made it his business to interpret for the others. Carnelian could see how eagerly they listened. Fern sunk his head in thought. When he next looked up he could not be blind to the hope shining from the face of every youth. He fixed Osidian with doleful eyes.
'It seems that again we are to follow you, Master.'
Enough rain fell during the night to wash the world away. The struggle to keep the fire going was quickly lost and, with it, any pretence they had of being protected from raveners. Shivering, Carnelian huddled with the Plainsmen, his nostrils filled with the reek of wet charcoal, water running down his back. Through the downpour the cries of monsters kept making him lift his head to search the blackness, imagining their shapes coalescing, lumbering towards them with malicious gluttony in their eyes.
When first light came they were cheated of far sight by a vapour rising from the earth. It was Osidian who made them set off. They grumbled, but were soon glad of the movement for it drove the chill from their bodies.
Ravan and Krow at his side, Osidian led them into the south-east where the sun peered at them blindly through the drifting mist. They swam through ferns laden with dew. Each swishing frond lashed water over them until the angles of elbows and knees could be seen pushing through the sodden cling of their robes and cloaks. They came into a region where the spiral heads of the ferns swung menacingly above their heads. Roots tangled their feet. Their curses sounded as if they were being uttered in the confines of a room.
When Carnelian saw shapes looming out of the mist, hovering above him as large as houses, his pace faltered and he leaned back to stare. The trees looked like the watch-towers of the Guarded Land.
Someone collided with him. It was Fern. They both gazed up at one immense candelabrum of branches.
'A cone tree,' said Fern and took Carnelian by the shoulder. 'Let's not lag behind.'
'Isn't this blindness dangerous?' Carnelian asked as they pushed through the wet thrash of more ferns.
'The sun will soon burn this mist away,' Fern said. His words were hurried, tense, and Carnelian could see the way the Plainsman's eyes were peering over his shoulder searching for danger.
A rumbling in the ground froze the Plainsmen in a staring panic. Shocked, Carnelian felt each tremor in his bones and saw the way everyone was searching the mist in all directions. It seemed to be ships that came hoving into view. He fell back gaping at these saurian leviathans. Cries. Confusion. He was grabbed and yanked around. He stumbled, regained his balance, then was fleeing with the others. A root snared his foot. He fell. The shaking of the ground entered him through his palms and knees. Leaping up, he was coursing after the human cries. A cone tree solidified suddenly before him. Around its trunk Fern was marshalling the Plainsmen. Unable to check his headlong speed, Carnelian careered into them. Hands pulled him closer to the tree.
He turned, feeling their elbows against his back, and stared out in the direction he had come. Where the mist was dissolving, a jade plain was revealed, teeming with saurians wading languidly through the ferns. Some were horned, some flecked or crested with scarlet. Rich golden hides baroqued with dusky reds like old wounds. Many, no bigger than aquar, ran in spurts, but others lumbered thunderously, their necks pushing their heads deep into the sky's blue.
At first Carnelian thought the Plainsmen were shrieking with terror, but glancing to either side he saw their faces were lit with joy. Bright passion gushed from them in ragged song, their eyes brimming with love as they gaped up at the monsters. Among them, Osidian seemed more interested in their reactions than in the saurians.
Carnelian reached over Krow to grab at Fern's shoulder. 'Aren't we in danger?' he cried.
His friend turned, blinking tears from his eyes, struggling to focus on something as tiny as Carnelian. He nodded but quickly turned back, unwilling to forgo the sight of the leviathans.
Carnelian dared to gaze out again. One of the monsters was approaching. Carnelian pushed back against
