it was Krow who erupted towards him. ‘You lie!’
Carnelian drew back in surprise. ‘I assure you, Krow, it’s true. Even now he flees before the dragons.’ He pointed north.
‘Our people have seen dragonfire on the horizon,’ said one of the Darkcloud. Several more declared they must return home immediately. Krow was gazing northwards, his face sagging with utter disbelief.
Carnelian raised himself up in his saddle-chair. ‘You’ll not save your people by hiding in your koppie.’
Their fear turned to anger and they challenged him. In answer he pointed at the drag-cradles. ‘First of all you must destroy that salt.’
Outrage turned them into a mob. He shouted them down. ‘Listen to me.’
One of their leaders swung his arm back to take in the cradles. ‘You’d have us destroy such a vast treasure?’
‘It belongs to us all,’ cried one.
‘We’ve bought it with our blood,’ said another.
Their leader bared his teeth. ‘We’ll take it as our reward for serving the Master.’
Carnelian fought his own rising anger. ‘To our shame we’ve all served the Master.’ He could not help glancing back at Krow, who had subsided into his chair. He looked as many of the Darkcloud in the eyes as he could. ‘I’m as guilty as any here, but now I say to you it’s over. Whatever ambitions the Master put in your hearts, let them go. It’s clear for all to see that everything he promised you is turning to dust. Your only hope now is to return to the way things were.’
‘To be slaves to the Standing Dead?’
Carnelian fixed the speaker with a glare. ‘Do you really believe you’ve ever been anything else?’
The contempt in his voice cooled their defiance. He pointed at the salt again. ‘If you keep that for yourselves, you will earn the envy and hatred of the other tribes. If you share it with them, you might avoid strife for a while, but, ask yourselves, would you or your sons then willingly go into the legions to earn the Gods’ salt? If not, how long do you think it would be before the Standing Dead came to find out why you no longer chose to serve them?’
Consternation broke out again, but Carnelian sensed their anger was really fear.
‘Let’s say we destroy the salt, what then? Would we be protected from those dragons?’ Their leader indicated the approaching dust-cloud.
Carnelian had no answer. Even if they managed to give up Osidian, alive, would Aurum return to the Guarded Land without inflicting retribution? Carnelian remembered how much Aurum liked to enforce the Law. All Osidian’s tribes had seen him and Carnelian without masks. Just for that the penalty was death.
His doubt was infecting the Plainsmen. He looked to Krow, but there was no help there. Before he knew it he was saying: ‘I have a plan that might save you all.’
Their faces lit with hope, but Carnelian, needing time to think, looked away down the convoy. ‘First I must see how much salt you’ve brought.’
He rode his aquar down the flank of the column. There were hundreds of drag-cradles, heavily laden. Overwhelming wealth. Notions of using it himself flitted through his mind. How else was he to make good on his promise to them? How could he save them from Aurum?
Coming to the end of the convoy, he saw its rump, creatures on foot. A mass of matted hair and misshapen bodies clad in verminous rags. Sartlar. Distaste rose in him like bile. His render dream came back to him as he recalled with disgust how they had turned pygmies into broth then fed on them.
He walked his aquar back up the column, the taste of the dream in his mouth. He eyed Aurum’s dust-cloud. They were running out of time. He almost cried out as an idea began forming in his mind. It was a narrow, dangerous path, but it might just be a way to salvation. There was no time to analyse it. The leaders of the Darkcloud were waiting for him, Krow among them.
‘First we must save the people who are fleeing with the Master before the dragons.’
His
Carnelian drew back in surprise. ‘I assure you, Krow, it’s true. Even now he flees before the dragons.’ He pointed north.
‘Our people have seen dragonfire on the horizon,’ said one of the Darkcloud. Several more declared they must return home immediately. Krow was gazing northwards, his face sagging with utter disbelief.
Carnelian raised himself up in his saddle-chair. ‘You’ll not save your people by hiding in your koppie.’
Their fear turned to anger and they challenged him. In answer he pointed at the drag-cradles. ‘First of all you must destroy that salt.’
Outrage turned them into a mob. He shouted them down. ‘Listen to me.’
One of their leaders swung his arm back to take in the cradles. ‘You’d have us destroy such a vast treasure?’
‘It belongs to us all,’ cried one.
‘We’ve bought it with our blood,’ said another.
Their leader bared his teeth. ‘We’ll take it as our reward for serving the Master.’
Carnelian fought his own rising anger. ‘To our shame we’ve all served the Master.’ He could not help glancing back at Krow, who had subsided into his chair. He looked as many of the Darkcloud in the eyes as he could. ‘I’m as guilty as any here, but now I say to you it’s over. Whatever ambitions the Master put in your hearts, let them go. It’s clear for all to see that everything he promised you is turning to dust. Your only hope now is to return to the way things were.’
‘To be slaves to the Standing Dead?’
Carnelian fixed the speaker with a glare. ‘Do you really believe you’ve ever been anything else?’
The contempt in his voice cooled their defiance. He pointed at the salt again. ‘If you keep that for yourselves, you will earn the envy and hatred of the other tribes. If you share it with them, you might avoid strife for a while, but, ask yourselves, would you or your sons then willingly go into the legions to earn the Gods’ salt? If not, how long do you think it would be before the Standing Dead came to find out why you no longer chose to serve them?’
Consternation broke out again, but Carnelian sensed their anger was really fear.
‘Let’s say we destroy the salt, what then? Would we be protected from those dragons?’ Their leader indicated the approaching dust-cloud.
Carnelian had no answer. Even if they managed to give up Osidian, alive, would Aurum return to the Guarded Land without inflicting retribution? Carnelian remembered how much Aurum liked to enforce the Law. All Osidian’s tribes had seen him and Carnelian without masks. Just for that the penalty was death.
His doubt was infecting the Plainsmen. He looked to Krow, but there was no help there. Before he knew it he was saying: ‘I have a plan that might save you all.’
Their faces lit with hope, but Carnelian, needing time to think, looked away down the convoy. ‘First I must see how much salt you’ve brought.’
He rode his aquar down the flank of the column. There were hundreds of drag-cradles, heavily laden. Overwhelming wealth. Notions of using it himself flitted through his mind. How else was he to make good on his promise to them? How could he save them from Aurum?
Coming to the end of the convoy, he saw its rump, creatures on foot. A mass of matted hair and misshapen bodies clad in verminous rags. Sartlar. Distaste rose in him like bile. His render dream came back to him as he recalled with disgust how they had turned pygmies into broth then fed on them.
He walked his aquar back up the column, the taste of the dream in his mouth. He eyed Aurum’s dust-cloud. They were running out of time. He almost cried out as an idea began forming in his mind. It was a narrow, dangerous path, but it might just be a way to salvation. There was no time to analyse it. The leaders of the Darkcloud were waiting for him, Krow among them.
‘First we must save the people who are fleeing with the Master before the dragons.’
His
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