Fern regarded his brother with horror. Kyte wiped away tears and regarded Ravan with unconcealed wrath. 'Can't you see, boy, all the men of the Bluedancing lying as carrion at your feet?'
'What of it?' said Ravan, face reddening.
''What of it?'' echoed Kyte. He looked up blinking at the sky. His bloodshot eyes fell on Ravan. 'Who'll protect the hearths of the Bluedancing? Who'll hunt for their mothers and their children now their strength lies here rotting on this ground?'
Ravan's mouth hung open but he did not seem to have anything to say.
'Well, thank the Skyfather you've run dry at last,' said Fern and was rewarded with a look of hatred.
'What did the old man say?' Osidian asked Ravan.
The youth regained something of his composure as he translated Kyte's words into Vulgate.
'I regret this but we clearly had no choice,' said Osidian. 'Is it certain the Bluedancing are finished?'
Galewing nodded. They are no more.'
Then we must do what we can to save what is left.'
The old men focused narrowed eyes on Osidian.
'You could take their children into the Ochre to swell your strength.'
The old gave wary nods: the youths standing round looked uncertain.
Their salt shall swell the wealth of the Ochre.'
This the Elders listened to more attentively.
They'll have a good quantity of it, sure enough,' said Galewing. He looked over to where their men were moving, silencing the dying with blows.
Osidian addressed his next comment to everyone. 'We can send those of them already marked for the tithe to the Mountain in place of your own children.'
Carnelian watched the look of disbelief turn on many faces to hope. Shocked, he contemplated the joy of keeping Poppy from the Masters.
'But what about their women?' asked Galewing.
Osidian shrugged and then looked the Elder in the eye.
'Either we let them die or else you might welcome them into the Ochre… as servants.'
The old men considered this. 'As servants…' they muttered, uncertainly.
They fished the Ochre dead from the carnage on the ridge. They salvaged saddle-chairs to replace the ones they had burned and improvised drag-cradles to carry the casualties.
'We must do something about all these bodies,' said Galewing in Vulgate, watching his people move among the corpses despoiling them of salt.
'Look around you,' Osidian said, sweeping his arm round. Sitting in his saddle-chair, he towered over the Elder. 'How shall we give them to the sky? See how numerous they are. It's impossible to take them with us. Would you leave a contingent of our strength here to keep away the scavengers? Consider that the Ochre are wholly unprotected.'
Galewing looked up sad, fearful. Then we've not only destroyed their tribe but we also damned the souls of all their men to live as raveners.'
Krow looked ill. Ravan was gazing uneasily over the battlefield, but then burned doubt away with anger. 'It's what they deserve. Rather them than us.'
Binding up Carnelian's wounds, Fern made no attempt to hide his contempt for his brother. Unabashed, Ravan strode to his aquar and when he was mounted, said, 'Let's go and save their women and children.'
Riding over a ridge, they saw an encampment spread on the plain.
'So many,' someone exclaimed.
'Even without their men they would still outnumber the Tribe,' said Fern.
'How can we hope to feed them all?' said Galewing.
'If you set them to work in the ditches you will be free to hunt more,' said Osidian. 'In time you can use their labour to extend the Koppie.'
As they rode closer, Carnelian saw the Bluedancing had formed their drag-cradles into a barricade behind which they stood waiting. Osidian brought the warband to a halt when the women's faces could clearly be seen peering out from under their head-blankets.
A shrill voice cried out a challenge.
'What?' Carnelian asked Fern.
'I'm not sure,' his friend replied. 'Something about their men. By the tone of her voice, a warning.'
They don't know what's happened.'
Fern looked morose. 'I think it more likely they're clinging to the hope we've got here by somehow eluding their men.'
'I wouldn't like to be the one who has to tell them,' said Krow. His statement was greeted by a murmur of agreement.
The Elders talked quickly among themselves. Kyte called over to Crowrane, who sat hunched in his saddle- chair, but the old man showed no sign of having heard. He had been like that since the battle and the death of his son.
Galewing forced a decision. 'We'll go down and talk to them.'
Osidian interrupted Ravan as he began to translate. 'I understood.'
They watched the Elders and the men who had lost children to the Bluedancing ride down towards the barricade. What if the women became violent? Carnelian did not doubt Osidian would be prepared to attack them.
The Elders were dismounting. They addressed the women over the meshed drag-cradles. Kyte made a speech. His head dropped before he was finished. A wave of consternation moved round the circle of the defenders. They began detaching themselves from their defensive ring and running to where Kyte was speaking. His posture betrayed his shame, as he turned to point up the slope. Wailing wafted on the wind. The Elders fell into a long discussion with them.
'Father above, what can they be finding to talk about?' said Ravan.
Osidian made him fall silent with a look. 'Everything depends on how much they love their children.'
Carnelian's heart was down there with the Bluedancing women. He watched the Elders remount and ride back.
They'll agree to come with us for the sake of their children,' Galewing cried out while he was still some distance away. 'But they demand that they be allowed to collect the bodies of their men for proper burial.'
Osidian waited until the Elders had reached him before he spoke. 'We can't allow this.'
'Why not?' Kyte asked.
Osidian raised an eyebrow. 'If you insist, I shall point out the obvious. Firstly, it would delay our return to the Tribe. They'll already be worrying about us and, besides, the longer we remain out here the greater the danger to us all from raveners. Secondly, this would mean we have to take those bodies back to the Koppie. Can you imagine the Ochre welcoming so many dead? Not to mention the sheer labour of it. Thirdly and, perhaps, most importantly, how do you think those women down there will feel towards the Ochre when they see all their men dead? You can see how numerous they are. How could we hope to control them in their grief?'
Kyte frowned and glanced back at the barricade in misery. He shook his head. 'Perhaps we should just let them die.'
'If that's your wish,' said Osidian.
The old men returned to the barricade, round-shouldered. When they gave out their decision, the wailing grew so that even at that distance, Carnelian felt harrowed. The children stolen from the Ochre were being given back. The women untangled their drag-cradles and began to load them up.
The Elders returned wan and tearful. 'We should help them.'
Osidian shook his head. 'In their midst we'd only give their grief a focus for revenge.'
So it was the Ochre sat and watched until at last a mass of the Bluedancing came up the slope towards them, a great march of aquar pulling drag-cradles. Looking among them Carnelian could see the dejected faces of
