Height sees further further sight brings knowing so, is it not fitting that our Father should choose to live in the sky?
The blue of the mountains suffused the stream. Air so fresh it almost hurt to breathe it; so clear it seemed to Carnelian that should he stretch out his hand he might cut his fingers on the peaks.
'Up there, each breath must be as pure as light,' he said to Fern.
'It's where we believe the Skyfather rests after the effort of making rain.'
As they walked back to the camp, Carnelian delighted in the wash of emerald ferns against his legs. The people were ranged along the margin of the stream, watching the children scattering diamond spray as they gambolled in the shallows. Mothers were pleating their daughters' hair. Fathers were showing their sons how to knap flint into blades. Here and there Carnelian saw billows of steam rising from pots stewing djada and fiddleheads. Under the water near the bank, bowls were filled with dried berries swelling. The Elders lay under the still-flowering trees talking, smiling as they watched the children play. Lovers lay together, playing with each other's hair, smiling, nuzzling each other with whispers.
Fear clutched Carnelian that such peace should be threatened by Osidian's discontent. Taking his leave of Fern, he went searching for him, determined to force whatever plans he had out into the open. He found him standing away from the Tribe, alone save for Ravan. Carnelian saw how much they resembled a Sapient with his homunculus and shuddered. He decided he would try to talk to Osidian later, when he might hope to find him alone, but just then Osidian turned and looked his way. He still had not washed the hornblack from his face. Carnelian suspected he wore the colour as a mask. It made his eyes so bright and compelling. Carnelian approached and was relieved when Osidian dismissed Ravan. Carnelian glimpsed the youth's envy before, with a nod that was almost a bow, he moved away. Carnelian watched him go, not ready to confront Osidian. He marshalled his arguments, then faced him.
'His obsession with you eats at him like a canker.'
Osidian shrugged as if at some pleasantry. He lifted his perfect eyes to survey the mountains.
They are wondrous tall…' Carnelian said.
Osidian gave a slow nod. They remind me of the Sacred Wall.'
For a moment he seemed again the boy in the Yden, and Carnelian discovered from the hammering of his heart that he still felt love for him. Shocked, he reached out but stopped short of touching, afraid he might cause the moment to vanish like a reflection in water. Osidian noticed the movement. Carnelian could see the mask of indifference slipping back over Osidian's face and blurted out the first thing that came into his mind.
'We… we could climb them together.'
Seeing Osidian poised between who he had been and who he had become, Carnelian added, quickly: The two of us… alone… in air untainted by mortal breathing. They claim their sky god lives there.'
Osidian frowned, considering it. For a moment Carnelian was certain he had pushed him too hard, but then the boy in Osidian looked him in the eyes and nodded.
Carnelian was rolling some djada to take with them. 'Are you sure I won't need to ask your mother for permission?'
Fern shook his head. There's no escape up there.'
Carnelian packed the djada. 'Will you tell Poppy and keep her with you? If I tell her she'll hate it; perhaps even follow me.'
Fern nodded, frowning. 'Are you sure you want to go, alone, with him?'
'We need to talk and down here he'll not open up.'
Carnelian saw the depths of Fern's feelings. 'He'd never harm me.'
The answer seemed to confuse Fern. He reached for a waterskin. 'I'll fetch you some water.'
'That would weigh us down too much,' said Carnelian. He looked at Fern, trying to work him out. Could it be jealousy? 'We'll take what we need from the stream. We'll not be away more than a day or two.'
He hoisted the pack and went off to meet Osidian. When he glanced back, he saw Fern watching him. There was a part of Carnelian that took pleasure at seeing Fern annoyed.
Carnelian ignored the look of indolence on Osidian's painted face. Part of him was already regretting the expedition. 'Come, my Lord,' he said in Quya and made off along the bank.
The stream filled the air with its babble. Birds screamed as they knifed through the air. The valley funnelled up into a twilit gorge where the stream quickened, its deeper voice vibrating the air. Their path narrowed so that they had to go one behind the other, their skin dampened by the spray. Light began filtering brighter through the ferns and soon they were coming up into cool, open land. They drew the pure wind into their lungs. Seeing how alive Osidian's eyes had become, how lustily he climbed, Carnelian allowed himself to believe he was seeing the boy he had loved.
There is something in this of the climb we made back up to the Halls of Thunder.'
Carnelian knew immediately he had made a mistake. Osidian grew morose. 'My dear mother and her son will be up there now ruling in my place.'
It was nearing the middle of the day when, already high up a shoulder of the mountains, they came to where the stream foamed in steps into a deep, clear pool. Small trees grew around it, and arching ferns. Carnelian unrolled a blanket he had brought upon a narrow shelf of rock and they sat on it, lowering their feet into the spray, listening to the gurgle of the stream.
Carnelian saw Osidian was blind to the place; deaf to it. He followed the drop of his forehead, the jutting of his nose, the paler lips set in the black face.
'Here I might even forget Osrakum,' he tried, tentatively.
'Never,' said Osidian without turning.
His bitterness made Carnelian angry. 'Can you not even here allow yourself some peace?'
Osidian turned to look at him. 'Have you truly found peace?'
Carnelian gazed up at the mountains and then back into Osidian's eyes, greener than the sun through the ferns. 'It is beautiful and we are alone together as we have not been since the Yden.'
'An abyss has opened between us.'
'Ravan?'
Osidian laughed. 'You believe I could love such a creature?'
Carnelian looked away to hide his vexation.
'I used him to meet my needs; to wound you.'
Carnelian met his gaze. 'Fern, then?'
The pupils of Osidian's eyes contracted. 'Your tastes afflict me but deeper betrayals have dug the ground from under my feet.'
When the sybling Hanuses had told Carnelian that without him they would have been unable to capture Osidian, that accusation had lodged its barb in Carnelian's heart. Now it gave a twist that brought tears to his eyes.
Osidian reached up and stole a tear. Things can never again be as once they were.' He tasted the wetness on his finger. 'I have no more tears.'
Carnelian took hold of him by his shoulders. 'Where are you?'
Osidian broke his grip and turned back to watch the flow. 'Alone, standing on a pinnacle from which there leads only a single, precarious path.'
Carnelian saw the pain on Osidian's face and yearned to kiss it but had lost his way to him.
'Would you not feel better if you washed the blackness from your face?'
'Would it wash the blackness from my heart?'
Carnelian remembered the razors he had thought to bring. 'Surely you would enjoy once more to have your head smooth?'
Osidian looked at him, then shrugged, but Carnelian could see he was intrigued. He opened the pack and on a corner of the blanket laid out the things he had packed.
There was a small pot and a handful of flint razors. He was pleased when he saw Osidian showing interest
