The Standing Dead - Stone Dance of the Chameleon 02 by Ricardo Pinto Page B

the land, her rock rising around them in leprous walls. Among the towers and pinnacles, Carnelian could almost believe he had returned to the Valley of the Gate that opened into Osrakum except here the pillars were pale and faceless. The gully they were following was swollen by others into a valley along one edge of which they filed, trying to avoid its torrent.
    Suddenly, with a foaming roar, this tumbled in cascades into a ravine which, far below, framed in its narrow jaws a misty infinite world roofed by a stormy sky.
    Ranegale held up the reckoning cord dripping in the rain. All could see it now only had two knots.
    'If we return,' he said, indicating the way they had come, 'we're not likely to find a way to Makar. At least, not in the two days we have before our people give up waiting for us.'
    In their saddle-chairs, the raiders sagged as miserably as did the corpses.
    'So what do we do?' asked Loskai.
    The cloth clinging to Ranegale's face was so drenched Carnelian saw with horrid fascination that the barbarian had a hole where he should have had a nose.
    'We camp here,' said Cloud.
    Storm clouds were conspiring with the approaching night to blacken the sky. Everyone peered through the gloom at the bare rocky valley.
    This'll have to do,' said Cloud.
    There were a few unhappy nods. One of the youths found some shelter under a shelf of rock that projected out from the valley wall. Carnelian urged Blur to follow the other aquar towards it. It was a relief when he and Krow were able to climb free of her saddle-chair. They were stretching their limbs when Cloud approached. He stood over Krow.
    'Why did you involve yourself in sacrilege?'
    Hanging his head, the youth indicated Carnelian. 'My father, this one claimed he had read the name of our kin tribe in Father Stormrane's hand.'
    Cloud regarded Carnelian for a while before offering him his hand. Carnelian bent over the palm. He used the method that had worked before to decipher the recruitment tattoos. Having teased out the appropriate sounds, he converted them in his head into the barbarian tongue.
    Twostone,' he said.
    Cloud went pale. He placed his hand on Krow's head. 'You were right to help him.'
    'My father,' the youth said with a nod and managed to slip Carnelian a smile of thanks as the Elder led him away.
    Carnelian saw Fern and Ravan had untied the corpses and went to help lift them out of their saddle-chairs. Struggling with the noisome burdens, they laid them against the rock at some distance from the camp.
    As Fern stood over his father's body, Carnelian could not tell if there were tears mixing with the rain running down his face. He took hold of Fern's shoulder.
    'You have my gratitude for defending us back there.'
    Fern looked into Carnelian's eyes. 'You know our speech, don't you?' he said using the barbarian tongue.
    Carnelian's first instinct was to pretend not to understand, but he saw no threat in Fern's eyes. 'How did you find out?'
    'At the kraal, you answered Ranegale when he threatened you in our tongue,' said Fern, shifting to Vulgate.
    Carnelian thought back, then nodded, remembering it.
    'Is this something all Masters can do?'
    'No.' Carnelian saw Fern was waiting for more. 'Many in my household were chosen from the flesh tithe your people give ... are forced to send to the Mountain.'
    Fern frowned. 'How many Plainsman tongues do you know?'
    'Plainsman?' said Carnelian, echoing the unfamiliar word.
    Fern touched his chest then indicated the other raiders. 'It is what we all are.' He spread his hands as if smoothing a cloth over a table. 'Our tribes cover the Earthsky. How many of our tongues do you know?'
    Carnelian shrugged. The one you speak. What others are there?'
    Fern regarded him with frowning disbelief. 'Our tongue is peculiar to our tribe.'
    'Surely the languages spoken by other tribes will be similar to your own.'
    Fern frowned. 'We have such difficulty understanding one another we often resort to the Vulgate which the veterans bring