was still low when Carnelian saw smoke rising.
'We'll be home soon,' he said, pointing.
Osidian did not turn to look at him but only gave a nod.
Drums were beating like hearts when Carnelian awoke. The air was warm and fragrant. Branches slipped the blue of the sky between their leaves. He made an effort to sit up and saw he was safe in the heart of the Tribe. He could see children winding a dance through a commotion of preparation. Their young joy gladdened him.
'Carnie,' a little voice cried, and before he knew it, Poppy had flung herself at him. He hugged her hard, kissed the nape of her neck and muttered: 'I'm glad to see you too.'
She pulled away from him and stared. 'You're better now?'
Carnelian was going to ask her what she meant, but then remembered and turned to look round to where the mountains rose purple to the clear sky. It came as a shock when he realized he could not remember reaching the camp.
Poppy saw his puzzlement. 'We spotted you wandering dazed with the Master.' 'We?'
'Fern, Sil, many others.' 'How long have I lain…?' Two days,' she said. 'And the Master?' 'Ravan is tending him.'
Carnelian's attention was drawn to the rhythm of the drums. 'What's happening?'
The Tribe are getting ready for the gatherings.' 'Gatherings?'
'All the tribes are up here in the mountains.'
Carnelian started. 'Coming here.'
Poppy calmed him with a shake of her head. 'It's not our turn. We're sending people to other valleys.'
He reached out and took her hand. 'Have you been -looking after me?'
Poppy grew fierce. 'Fern wanted to but I wouldn't let him.'
He laughed and kissed her again, then threw back the blankets.
'Are you sure you're strong enough, Carnie?'
'Let's see,' he said and, rising, found he felt weak, but otherwise well enough. Poppy looked unconvinced as she brought him his robe and helped him wind on his uba.
'Are you going to see the Master?'
Carnelian felt he should but did not really want to. 'You said Ravan is looking after him?'
Poppy nodded. 'He and the other from my… from the Twostone.'
'Krow.'
She gave a nod.
'Well, in that case, I think it better we should let him rest. Shall we go and see what's going on?'
Poppy beamed and grabbed his hand.
As they walked together, the excitement of the drums transferred itself to their hearts. Soon they were among the women who were singing as they worked. They watched them grind red earth in the hollows of saurian shoulder-blades. One girl poured the resulting powder into a jar which another was stirring. It looked like blood. Carnelian could see other jars holding the rich pigment and wondered what it was for.
'You're up,' a voice cried, and Carnelian saw it was Fern bounding towards him. He looked closely at Carnelian.
'You seem well enough.'
‘I don't think he is,' Poppy piped up.
Fern gave her a look of concern. 'Do you think he should rest longer?'
Carnelian interrupted Poppy's reply. 'Would you like to be alone to discuss me?'
They all grinned. He made sure to hold each of their gazes. 'I'm fine. Really.'
He laughed when he saw Poppy and Fern exchange glances. 'Now will someone please tell me what's going on here?'
'What happened up there?' asked Fern.
Carnelian saw by the serious way they were both looking at him that he would have to give them some kind of answer. 'We got lost.'
Fern frowned. Poppy glanced up at him and then she frowned too.
For a moment, Carnelian was overwhelmed by the love he felt for them both. The easy flow of his feelings for Fern surprised him. With a shock, Carnelian realized he felt free of Osidian. He no longer felt that Osidian's darkness was a burden he had to share. Sadness at the love they had lost threatened to overwhelm him.
Poppy and Fern were watching him. Carnelian took his friend's arm and pointed. 'What're they doing there?'
Fern looked uncertain. Poppy shook her head, then shrugged. 'They're making ochre, Carnie.'
'For the women?'
'For everyone that's going,' said Fern. The gatherings are held under the protection of the Mother.'
He pointed to a pole set upright in the ground from which there hung a flag woven from scarlet feathers. 'A trucestaff inviting us to the valley of the Smallochre.'
'A kin tribe?' asked Carnelian.
Fern shook his head. 'One of those neighbouring the Koppie. All our neighbours will be there: the Woading, the Tallgreen, the Darkcloud, the Bluedancing.'
The Bluedancing?'
The trucestaff will ensure there'll be no trouble.'
Carnelian gave Poppy his hand and then put his other arm about Fern's shoulders. 'Come on, give me a tour.'
They watched mud gouged from the bank of the stream being piled upon a sled. They helped some boys drag it back to where the women threw handfuls of it into leather bowls. Fires were burning smokily where cubes of fat were being melted into oil. One bowl, brimming over, was lifted with a pole by two men. Children were scolded out of the way as it was carried to where women were kneading mud into balls. The women punched depressions into the balls into which the oil was carefully poured. They watched it cool. When it was just beginning to set, they began to fold the edges of the depression into it and then resumed their kneading.
Mud balls that were ready were rolled in ochre earths. The red dough produced was being worked into men's hair, which was then lifted up and moulded into crests. Several women worked on each, helped and pestered by children, using their palms to shape and smooth them up until each man had a curving fluted crest like a bellower's rising from his head.
Next the ochre dyes were brought. With these, patterns of concentric circles were painted on their skins using flexible lengths of cartilage or dabbed on with fingers. The men grinned and the women laughed and scolded them as they tried to evade the tickle of the painting.
A little further on, under an awning, Fern showed Carnelian the women that were to go on the embassy. Akaisha was there, grimacing as Whin worked wax and fat into her hair.
'Is he all right?' she asked Poppy.
Carnelian tapped his chest grinning. 'I'm here, my mother.'
She grinned. 'I know you are, dear.' She looked at her son. 'You should be getting ready, Fern.'
Fern looked embarrassed, but proud. 'I'm going too.'
'It's a great honour,' said Whin, pleased for him.
They hung around just long enough to watch as a cone of basket-weave was placed on Akaisha's head, around which her salt-beaded hair was wrapped to make a glossy horn. Whin gave them a nod as they took leave of her.
In the stream, aquar were being scoured clean. On the bank, others were having their hides layered with fine mud. On this smooth ground rings and spiral designs were being daubed. Feather-wreaths were being clasped around their necks. Their saddle-chairs were being prepared with bright standards and banners of tattered, scarlet saurian-leather.
Fern took Carnelian's shoulders. 'I really should go and get ready. Are you sure you're fine?'
'Yes, now get going.'
They grinned at each other and then Fern moved off into the crowd. Carnelian allowed Poppy to draw him into the children's dances and their games. Still not wholly recovered from the sky-sickness, he grew quickly weary
