messengers to every gate in case you should return.'
'Yes, but… Poppy,' he said.
Akaisha's face sagged and she let go of him as Whin flamed to anger.
'You risk the Tribe for the sake of one child?' Carnelian saw the pain in Fern's eyes and wanted to tell him he had come for him too. 'One child?' barked Sil.
Her anger ignited Carnelian's own. 'Do you find that so hard to believe?' He scanned their faces. Whin's eyes glazed as she looked into herself. The same expression came over the other faces. Only Akaisha's eyes were seeing him and, in her face, there was something of shame.
She turned to her hearthsisters. 'I'll deal with this.'
Wild-eyed, Sil was led away by her mother.
'Where's Ravan?' asked Fern.
'Out on the plain… he remained with the Master out on the plain,' Carnelian replied.
Fern hung his head. Akaisha looked at her son, already grieving for him. She put on a smile.
'If your brother hasn't come it's because he can't bear to see you torn from us.'
Her certainty was only a veneer. She peered out through the leaves and branches towards the plain as if she might hope to see Ravan in the far distance. 'Otherwise, he would most certainly be here.'
Carnelian wished he could confirm her hope. Her eyes lensed with tears, she took his hand and led him away from Fern. Carnelian saw as if for the first time the children of the hearth, shivering naked, the hair being scraped from their heads. Fathers and mothers, faces coloured by anger and pale fear, stiffened to masks by the tears they refused to shed that would break their children's courage.
Carnelian searched for Poppy and saw her, alone, kneeling over a leather bowl, water dripping from her face and hair. She began rising, ready to come running, but he shook his head and she understood and fell once more to her knees.
Akaisha squeezed his hand. 'She's not as abandoned as she looks, Carnie. Before you appeared, I was helping her get ready.'
‘I’ve never believed you to be uncaring.'
Akaisha flushed. 'I pray the Gatherer will take her in place of my granddaughter.'
'I know,' he said, letting her see in his eyes he was not judging her.
Carnelian glanced round looking for Fern. Holding his daughter in one arm, he was stooped over a bowl with Sil. As he concentrated on shaving the tiny head, his wife was examining his face as if she were engraving every curve and line in her memory. Carnelian envied her closeness to him.
'Don't mind his manner, Carnie, he's beside himself with fear,' said Akaisha in a low voice.
He looked round at her. 'His daughter?'
'My granddaughter will not be chosen,' she said fiercely. 'Of course he fears for her but today he has more reason to fear for himself.' She looked over at her son, sorrow ageing her. 'He's lived bravely with what must happen but he didn't expect it to come so soon. He's not had time to prepare himself for what will be done to him today.'
Today?' Carnelian said, his stomach knotting.
Misery was welling in her eyes. They're sure to want to make an example of him before the Tribe…'
Tears began to spill down her cheeks. Instinctively, Carnelian embraced her, but she pushed him away, running the back of her arm across her eyes, holding on to him tighdy so he would not think she was angry with him.
'It was as much for him as for Poppy that I risked -' 'You think I don't know that?' she said, finding a smile. At that moment one of the children began to whimper.
Carnelian looked furtively round, feeling his gaze was an intrusion.
'Don't expect kindness today,' said Akaisha.
'Fern made it clear I'm not welcome here.'
She raised an eyebrow. 'Men see so little,' she said, and when Carnelian frowned, not understanding, she shook her head. 'He told you he's worried what disaster you being here might bring down on the Tribe, but perhaps even more strongly, he fears for you.'
That warming jolt was not enough to free Carnelian from the burden of what he was. 'I don't blame the Tribe for hating me.'
'It's not you they hate, but all the Standing Dead,' she said severely. The arrival of the Gatherer, unexpected as it is, has come as a bitter shock to everyone.'
She looked at Carnelian, waiting for him to answer the implied question.
The Master believes they seek us. If they find us here…'
Akaisha nodded. 'I know well enough what will happen.'
He saw in her eyes that once the childgatherer had gone, there would be a reckoning.
'I'll hide, my mother, but first, please, will you allow me to tend to Poppy?'
She looked uncertain.
'Surely today every child is entitled to love.' Screwing her face up to hold back more tears, Akaisha gave in with a nod.
Poppy looked up at him with enormous eyes. 'I just knew you'd come, Carnie.'
He smiled. 'How could I not?' He knelt beside her and got her to bend forward and then, lifting water in his hands, he let it flow down over her head. She spluttered and, rising, made to part her bedraggled hair. Carnelian caught her hands. How smooth and unmarked they were. He let them go and wrapped her in a blanket to keep her warm. He plucked the flint razor from where Akaisha had left it and then gave his attention to hacking Poppy's hair off as close as he could to the roots. Tresses fell like black ribbons to the earth. Her tufted scalp seemed a desecration. Sensing she was reading his thoughts, he ran his hand over the soft brisdes and gently teased her about them until she twitched a smile. In that watery counterfeit he saw the depths of her terror. Blinking away his own tears, he concentrated on finding the sharpest edge of the flint. He sniffed, then glanced up.
'We wouldn't want… At least I know from experience…' His voice tailed off. It was hardly the time for reminiscences about the head-shaving habits of the Masters.
He set himself to scraping the stubble from her scalp. In spite of his care, he drew blood. He snatched his hand back expecting Poppy to cry out and was made even more miserable when she did not.
When they were done, he washed her head clean and patted it dry with an edge of the blanket. Her head seemed as fragile as eggshell. He saw she was watching one of the older boys who was clearly afraid, his father kneeling face to face with him, loving him, telling him to be strong. The boy stood stiffly, lower lip quivering.
Carnelian snatched her up into a hug. She clung to him. 'You won't let him take me, will you?' she whispered urgently.
He did not know what to say and ran his hand over her tiny naked head, rocking her, making sure she could not see the bleakness in his face.
From somewhere on the other side of the hill, the alien voices of trumpets blared setting Poppy violently trembling. She turned her face up.
'You'll be there, won't you, Carnie?'
He gave no answer, not only because he had none he wanted to give, but also because he saw their hearthmates were beginning to gather around the mother tree. Over their heads he could see Fern standing with his mother. Turning to the cedar, he embraced her bark, kissed her. A warm murmuring rose from his family.
Carnelian felt a familiar hand slip into his and glanced down.
'What's happening, Carnie?' Poppy asked.
For answer Carnelian lifted her up and swung her onto his shoulders. Together they watched as one by one the hearth filed in to kiss and embrace Fern. Their grief at losing him was a pressure in the air. Soon Carnelian was joining his tears to theirs. This parting was an ache in him and yet he felt shut out. Though Fern looked in his direction several times, he did not beckon Carnelian and, without a sign, Carnelian was unwilling to breach the ring of his family.
When Fern had said goodbye even to the smallest child, he rose and, for a moment, they stood silent with him and Akaisha in the heart of their gathering. Sil joined them, handing her baby to her husband. Then Akaisha broke the circle as she made towards Carnelian. Behind her came Fern holding his baby, Sil at his side.
