The Third God (52 page)

‘I think you do. If it comes to a battle with auxiliaries, you’ll be annihilated and at no great cost to them.’ Carnelian turned to Lily. ‘Did you bring your people here to give your enemy more victims?’

‘Are you sure it will come to a battle?’

Carnelian turned and saw the speaker was Krow. He paused for a moment, noticing Poppy’s hand upon the youth’s arm. ‘I think it’s likely.’

He turned back to Lily. ‘If you are determined to fight, then I can help you.’

The Leper nodded. ‘We are determined and so’ – she turned towards Fern – ‘we need all the help we can get, Ochre.’

Fern turned away, pulling his cowl back over his face, and returned to sit gazing at the fire.

Carnelian gave a nod of resignation. ‘Tomorrow I’ll ride with you.’

The murmur from the camp rose up with the campfire smoke to the watch-tower platform where Carnelian and Osidian were eating together. ‘I’m going to take personal command of the Lepers,’ Carnelian announced, in a tone that surprised him with its vehemence.

Osidian frowned. ‘Why?’

Expecting a fight, Carnelian was for a moment put off-balance by Osidian’s calm tone. ‘They’re a mess. If we take them out against trained auxiliaries, they’ll be annihilated.’ Osidian’s expression had not changed. ‘That would hardly be of much use to us . . .’

Osidian regarded him for a moment, then nodded, picked up a hri wafer and put it in his mouth. He chewed it for a while. ‘That’s why I put the Marula in charge of their training.’

‘Today, I saw very little evidence that that’s working.’

‘Today was only the second day of their training.’

Carnelian felt the strength in his position deserting him. He imagined what Fern would think of him if he did not turn up the next morning as he had promised. That caused him to question whether Fern was the only reason he was doing it. His heart told him that Fern was
a
reason, but not the only one. ‘They need more help than the Marula can provide.’

‘Indeed?’

‘They can’t speak each other’s tongue.’

‘Morunasa’s Vulgate is as good as yours.’

Carnelian almost reached for the justification that he was a Master, but his instincts were against this. It was a cowardly way out and not the truth. ‘The Lepers will not easily take instructions from Morunasa.’

Osidian glanced up at him, but said nothing. He had no need to. Among the Lepers it was only Fern who would not easily take instructions from Morunasa. Osidian looked back to his bowl and selected another wafer. ‘Do as you will.’

Carnelian had no feeling of victory. He felt empty. A constant murmur was rising from the camp. Glancing down, he saw the twinkling campfires. He pulled his cloak about him. Up here the night was cold.

On the leftway with Osidian, Carnelian gazed past the dragons to the Leper multitude. ‘I want to take them out by myself.’

‘Without the huimur?’

Carnelian glanced at Osidian. ‘They need to be forged before they can be used as a weapon. I am sure you have much work you can do with your huimur alone.’

Osidian gave a nod and Carnelian returned to the watch-tower on his way down to the road.

Carnelian gazed at the Lepers. It had been hard enough to get them here from the camp in anything approaching good order, but the sun had had time to climb the sky before Morunasa and the other Oracles had managed to marshal them into an approximation to a battleline.

As Carnelian turned to his companions, several threw their arms up against the dazzle reflecting off his mask. Lily was there with other Lepers, all shrouded. Bareheaded were Fern and Krow and Morunasa. Carnelian regarded the Oracle, wondering if he could work with him. He recalled how, when he had told him he was taking control of the Marula for the day, Morunasa had glanced up to where Osidian was standing on the leftway as if he doubted Carnelian’s authority. Morunasa had obeyed him, had made the Marula do everything Carnelian asked of them, but with a visible reluctance.

‘Ride with me,’ Carnelian said to them all, then coaxed his aquar into a lope along the ragged Leper line. Only the detachments of Marula, each with an Oracle commander, formed a regular pattern along the front. Behind them, the Lepers were a rabble. Fewer than half of them were mounted and, though here and there he could see clumps of auxiliary lances, the air above their heads was predominantly a confusion of hoes and hooks and stone-blade scythes.

He pulled his aquar up. The half-flare of her eye-plumes closing as he turned her. ‘Lily, why are so few of your people mounted?’

‘You’ve reason to know our valleys are more suited to boats than aquar. We mustered all we could find there and in the fortress.’ She made a vague gesture in the direction of Makar.

Krow was nodding. ‘The Master’s been making us take all the aquar we can from the people on the road.’ He scrunched up his nose. ‘But they’re generally rather weedy and there’s not a lot of them and mostly they don’t have saddle-chairs, but racks for carrying stuff—’

Carnelian nodded, noticing how Krow was at Fern’s side, as he had been all day. He wondered how they had resolved their differences. ‘What proportion of your Lepers are mounted?’

‘Perhaps one in three,’ said Lily.

‘And are those good riders?’

Lily shrugged. Fern’s face might have been wood. It was Krow who answered. ‘Competent, Master.’

Carnelian glanced at the Lepers and wondered how long it would take for them to become good enough. He scanned those closest. They certainly did not look comfortable in their saddle-chairs. ‘How are they commanded, Morunasa?’

‘There are as many units as there are dragons, each commanded by one of my brethren. They answer to me.’

‘Is each of these units organized as a single body?’

Morunasa shook his head. ‘Under the Master’s instruction, each Oracle chose three Lepers to directly command. Each of those chose three more. And those, three more and so on until they reached groups of three or four or five.’

‘Does this work, Lily?’

The Leper glanced at Morunasa. ‘No. Many have ended up serving alongside those they don’t know. Many have deserted to be with their friends.’

Morunasa’s lips curled with disgust. ‘It’s been impossible to enforce the Master’s scheme. These wretches all look alike.’

Lily turned on him. Though her shrouds hid her expression, Krow gave Morunasa a look of dislike strong enough for both of them. Fern, whom Carnelian would have expected to dislike Morunasa the most, remained impassive.

‘Morunasa, how do your brethren give their commands to the Lepers?’

Morunasa raised his hands. ‘With these.’

‘What do you think, Fern?’

Fern did not look at him. ‘What do you think I think?’

Carnelian wanted to break through Fern’s impassivity to the anger he was impaled on. ‘I don’t know. Tell me. How were you organized as you came up the Pass?’

As Fern turned his dark eyes on him, Carnelian could see the hurt in them. In return, Fern could see only the gold of his mask. ‘We were organized friend with friend, brother with brother.’

‘No system?’

‘Our settlements vary greatly in size,’ said Lily.

Carnelian’s gaze passed over the Leper crowd as he digested what he had been told. He came to a decision. ‘Morunasa, gather your brethren and all your warriors and ride back to the watch-tower. Tell the Master I’ve no further need of you.’

The Oracle glared at him for a moment and it seemed he was going to say something, then his lips parted in a feral grin. ‘As the Master wishes.’

He rode his aquar along the line crying out something in the Marula tongue. As the warriors began to detach themselves from the battleline, Carnelian turned back to Fern and Krow, to Lily and the other Leper commanders. ‘Form them up as they were before. Friend with friend. Brother with brother.’

Carnelian swung from the ladder onto the landing. He was glad to see Osidian’s door closed. He had reason to believe he was there in his cell. The dragons had been already in camp when he had returned with the Lepers. He was weary to his bones. His reorganization had not brought the fruits he had hoped. He did not want to have to deal with Osidian until he had had time to rebuild his faith in what he had chosen to take on. Opening the door to his cell, he was relieved to see that the homunculus was still there, sleeping under the effects of the elixir he had made him take. It was the only thing he could have done. It was not practical to take the little man with him and he did not want to run the risk of leaving him behind, awake, unsupervised.

He removed his cloak and reached up behind his head to release his mask. A movement in the corner of his eye made him freeze. There was someone gazing at him from the furthest corner of the cell.

‘Poppy!’

The girl smiled at him.

‘Great Father, what’re you doing here?’

She raised her small hands in a gesture of appeasement. ‘Now don’t be angry.’

‘Don’t be angry?’ he bellowed. Then winced, glancing at the door. The last thing he wanted to do was bring Osidian to find out what was going on. ‘Do you know what could’ve happened if I’d removed my mask?’

‘Nothing,’ she said, grinning.

He raised his hands with fingers splayed, close to screaming at her. She came towards him and reached up to his right hand with both of hers and gently pulled it down, then the other, all the time talking. ‘Now, Carnie, it makes no difference because I want to join your household and your household can look at you, can’t they? You do remember telling me that, don’t you?’

Carnelian grimaced behind his mask. ‘Yes, but we don’t know where all this will end. You’d be locked in.’ His emotions were a mess. ‘Besides, you’ll have to wear my House mark.’

‘I know, here, on my face.’

Her smile softened his heart. Calmed him.

A knock at the door made them both jerk round to stare at it.

‘My Lord?’

It was Osidian’s voice. Carnelian waved Poppy back into the corner, then opened the door and stood blocking the doorway. Osidian frowned. ‘Why are you still masked?’

Carnelian pointed back into the cell with his head. ‘The homunculus . . .’

Osidian pulled back into the shadows. ‘How did it go today?’

‘I’ll tell you up by the heliograph over food.’ Carnelian saw that Osidian had already removed his leathers. ‘You go up and I’ll be there shortly.’

Osidian’s frown was deepening as Carnelian closed the door. He waited to hear him walk away, then confronted Poppy. ‘You can slip out of here
now
.’

Poppy smiled at him. He knew only too well how stubborn she could be. ‘Have it your own way. I don’t have the time to deal with this now. You stay here, but make sure you don’t make a sound.’ He glanced at the homunculus. Hopefully he would sleep a little longer.

‘Who’s that? I took a peek under his mask. He looks very old.’

‘Never mind him. Just help me change.’

‘Where’s the homunculus?’ Osidian asked Carnelian as he appeared at the edge of the heliograph platform.

‘In a drugged sleep. Did you expect me to ride around all day with him sitting on my lap?’

Osidian’s eyebrows rose. ‘I thought you said—’

Carnelian realized his mistake too late. ‘Forget what I said. We’ve more important matters to deal with.’ He sank to the platform so that the bowls of food lay between them. Then he began to describe the changes he had made to the way the Lepers were organized.

Osidian grew increasingly aghast. ‘But without a deep command hierarchy they will lose all tactical flexibility.’

‘Tactical flexibility? We’ll be lucky if we even achieve a modicum of military capability. Have you seen how they’re armed? And fewer than a third of them are mounted.’

As Carnelian saw Osidian’s eyes dulling, he became concerned he might lose the Lepers to him. ‘I have some notions as to how we might get round that problem, but I want to make sure we agree on this issue of tactical flexibility. You do not intend to use them interspersed among your huimur, do you?’

Osidian shook his head. ‘They would be cremated.’

‘As I thought. So you’ll be using them on your wings?’

‘Probably.’

‘Well, I’ll give you two independently controllable wings and, though they may not be up to any complicated manoeuvring, they should be able to stand up against Aurum’s auxiliaries.’

Watching Osidian considering this, Carnelian wondered if he would be able to deliver on his promise. ‘I’ve faith, Osidian, that you’ll be able to come up with tactics that will accommodate these limitations.’

‘Perhaps. What about the Marula?’

Carnelian smiled and shifted to Quya: ‘I am sure my Lord can find a better use for them than to act as an impenetrable barrier between himself in his huimur tower and the Lepers on the ground.’

Osidian nodded, but he was already sinking into contemplation. Carnelian was initially glad of this, then found it only served to bring to the fore his rising anxiety about Poppy. Not only was the homunculus down there, but also Legions and the other Sapients. What was he going to do with her?

Poppy was waiting for him, smiling.

‘Here,’ he said, offering her some hri wafers that he had saved from his meal with Osidian. She put the food down without even glancing at it. Her eyes seemed to be trying to see past the mask as if it were mist.

‘You must return to Fern and the others.’

Carnelian expected a protest, but Poppy’s smile did not change. He began to list all the reasons why she must return. The disfigurement of the tattoo; the irreversibility of her joining his household; the unlikelihood that he would ever in fact return to the Mountain, never mind the difficulty of getting her there too; that even if they managed it, life there for her would be far from what she might imagine; that not only she, but he too would be severely restricted by the Law; that she had no appreciation of how truly vast was the difference between their ranks. He fell silent, unnerved by the fact that Poppy’s smile seemed to have withstood his onslaught unchanged. ‘You would end up separated from Fern . . . and Krow,’ he added as an afterthought.

‘Not if they were also to join your household,’ she said.

That knocked Carnelian completely off-balance. Poppy seemed to have no doubt they would. He almost asked her what made her think that Fern would want to follow them to Osrakum, but something within him did not want to have that answered. ‘Even if all of this were to work out, even if we were all to end up in the Mountain together, one day I would succeed my father and thereafter you would never see my face again . . .’