The Third God by Ricardo Pinto Page A

Osidian’s arrogance, but he might also see in it evidence of some factor he was ignorant of. Surely this would cause Aurum’s certainty to crumble? Carnelian almost let forth a whoop. He was sure he had him, but he set himself to check his reasoning. So much hung on its slender links. His confidence grew as he found no flaw. Few Masters, Aurum least of all, could conceivably deduce the real reason behind the movement north: compassion. It would never occur to Aurum that any Master, certainly not Osidian, would carry out such a plan merely with the aim of saving some barbarians.
    Consternation around him made Carnelian look up. Though too far away for them to make out any detail, Aurum’s camp was coming alive. He pushed his left heel into his aquar’s neck and she veered away from the camp. The Plainsmen began to wheel behind him.
    Fern rode up, angry. ‘You’ve not shown yourself to Hookfork. How will he know the Master is with us?’
    Carnelian smiled grimly. ‘He knows and he will follow us.’
    The sun climbed high enough to steal their shadows. Ahead, lagoons became blinding shards of light. Tramping through the heat had wilted Carnelian’s confidence. His spirit had been wounded by the charcoal breeze wafting from the Koppie as they passed it. Even before then he had been constantly craning round, hoping to see the dust tide of Aurum’s pursuit, but the shimmering horizon remained stubbornly clear.
    A cry brought their whole march to a halt. Carnelian turned his aquar. Thick smoke was rising from the direction of Aurum’s camp. He tried to deduce what new devilment this might portend. Then his heart went cold. The koppie of the Woading was on fire. The same realization was spreading panic among the Plainsmen. Before he had time to think, they were mobbing him. Woading fought their way to the front, baying that he had led their people into this disaster. Stunned, striving to calm his aquar, he could give them no answer. Other voices were making themselves heard. They wanted to return. He watched them arguing, shouting, panicking. Had his plan failed already? If he had given Osidian to Aurum, would he have left? Anger displaced his doubts with a memory of Aurum telling him his uncle Crail had died during the mutilation the Master had insisted on. Carnelian relived Aurum slicing open the throat of a Maruli. Aurum was a monster. Even if he had left immediately for Osrakum with Osidian, he would have made sure to leave behind enough dragons to visit retribution on the tribes.
    Carnelian forced his aquar in among the Woading. They turned on him, shrieking. Ignoring their threats he bellowed for silence. The tumult faded.
    One of the Woading snarled at him: ‘We’ll kill you. We’ll give you to Hookfork in pieces; you and the Master.’
    ‘Do that and every single one of your koppies will be set alight.’
    One man rolled his eyes up. ‘Father in heaven, but haven’t we heard enough of your threats?’
    Carnelian saw the utter despair behind the man’s rage. ‘I don’t know if my plan will work,’ he said. ‘But what choice is there . . . ?’ He raised his voice. ‘There is no choice. Either we draw the bastard away or else he’ll burn your tribes. He’ll not be argued with and, even if he gets what he wants, he’ll not stop.’
    Men gaped at him, bleak-eyed. Several moaned. Tears were blinding them. They turned their backs on him and began to push through the press.
    ‘Where’re you going?’ Carnelian cried, but they showed no sign they heard. He tried to think what he could do. If they went back to their koppie Aurum was bound to take some of them alive. They would be unable to avoid betraying Carnelian’s plan. Then it would all be over. He glanced around and found Morunasa and the Marula some distance away through the crowd. He could command them to stop the Woading, but that would unleash a bloodbath. Even as he groaned, seeing no way out, his feet were making his aquar slip forward, his hand