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  ‘And Shaan,’ Rorc said, ‘remember, these are dangerous times. Tuon will not be able to protect you against everything. Be careful.’

  Shaan felt a jolt of fear light her insides as the young man pulled her away.

  8

  Tallis opened his eyes to darkness. His head was heavy and his mouth drier than dust.

  He was lying on his side, the air was cold and he was covered with a soft wrap of mar rat skin. For a moment he thought he was back at home in the Clan’s Well, but then he reached out his hand and touched the rough hide and knew where he was: he was still in the desert and his father was dead.

  Cold air made his skin prickle and he quickly drew his arm back under the covers. It was as though the cold had found its way into his bones and through his veins. He curled his knees to his chest and pulled the skins up, but still it seeped into him. He tried to push thought and feeling from his mind, to bury it deep, but one image kept rising to the surface, like oil on water refusing to bond: the glinting violet and gold of the serpent’s eye.

  Fear carved spaces within him. What had he done? He pulled the skins tight around himself and stared into the darkness. There was no other sound in the tent and blackness pressed against his face. His mind circled in on itself, twisting and turning, over and over. Ancient words had come from his mouth, that he remembered, but what they were he could not recall. He only remembered blinding fury, heat and sand and a cold violet eye looking down on him, understanding what he could not; and the fear and hatred in it as it winged away.

  His bladder tightened. He ignored it, not wanting to move from the darkness of the tent. Closing his eyes he tried to breathe deeply, but the need to relieve himself grew. Grunting, he reluctantly kicked back the covers.

  All was quiet outside and his breath misted in the cold air. The tents of the other hunters were silent, spread either side in a semi-circle around the still smouldering fire pit. Across the camp the body of his father lay on a platform guarded by two men. He turned his back and trudged away. Three hunters guarded the perimeter of the camp. One turned in his direction. Normally those on watch would give a nod or lift a hand to acknowledge you had been seen, but the watchman did neither. He merely looked at him for a moment and then turned away.

  A hollow ache rose within. Was he to become Outcast then? Perhaps he should be. The possibility drove a spike of fear into his spine. Not wanting to have to speak with anyone, or see another back turned on him, he moved away from the camp. There was no moon and he stopped by a small shrub to relieve himself. The stars glowed brightly, wheeling away in a never-ending arc of dark sky. There was no wind and with his back to the camp the world became nothing but bright stars and darkness. He stood there for a long time in the silent desert, staring upward.

  The next morning the hunters packed up for the walk home. Men and women worked quickly, dismantling the tents, bundling up the cooking tools and what little meat they had caught, and stacking it all on the muthu cart. Tallis helped his mother with their tent. Mailun said little, only asking him to carry this or that, and she would not meet his eye. Her body was hunched in on itself and she was so pale it made his guts wrench.

  Usually the dismantling of a camp was done with much laughter, boasts of the meat each hunter had caught and the occasional song at the prospect of getting home and seeing loved ones, or soaking in the hot springs. But now a deep silence hung over the group. Voices were muted and few words spoken. Even the desert was windless and still, as though the pall that hung over the group had spread to cover the sands as well.

  Tallis could feel eyes on his back as he worked. He tried to ignore them, but every muscle, every sinew in his body, was tensed and tight, his stomach hollow and sick. He could not eat and kept trying to recall what had happened, to make sense of it, but it was like trying to capture the remnants of a dream. Maybe it was better not to know.

  ‘Tallis?’

  Jared came up to him clutching his spear hard, his stance rigid. ‘Tallis.’ His voice became stronger and a little louder than necessary. ‘I’m glad to see you have woken. Are you well?’

  Over his shoulder, Tallis saw other members of the party glancing at them. They all turned quickly away if they met his eyes, but he knew they would follow every word.

  He nodded slowly. ‘Yes, brother, I’m weary, but I am myself.’

  Relief flashed in Jared’s eyes. Perhaps he had been a little wary of him also. The thought saddened him.

  Jared grasped his upper arm. ‘You will walk beside me then, on the trail back to our Well.’

  It was not a question. He nodded and Jared gave his arm a small shake, looking into his eyes before turning and making his way back to Irissa who was tying up their tent.

  Tallis saw Karnit watching him with an indecipherable expression. Deep lines were etched into his face beside his mouth and his nose was sharp and large, his chin covered with a cropped white beard. His long braids, white now also, were pulled back and he watched Tallis with watery blue eyes. Tallis wondered what he was thinking. What would he say to the Guides Circle when they returned?

  His heart ached and he looked to the platform that held his father. He was the last man of his family now; first his brothers, now his father, had gone to Kaa. His insides loosened and nausea rose. Would Karnit say he should be Outcast? Despair threatened to overwhelm him. What had he done?

  He tried to take hold of himself. It would be smart now to show he was still humble to the clan. He dropped his eyes and lowered his head, turning his palms out and flat by his sides in the gesture of respect. But the leader’s expression didn’t alter, he merely continued looking at him for a moment, then hoisted his spear and walked away. Tallis’s heart sank under a stone of doubt and worry.

  The trail back to the Jalwalah caves felt longer than it ever had before. Four men led, carrying his father’s body in a sack of hide slung between two poles. Behind them, the hunters walked two abreast following a barely visible track across the desert plains. The sand was pale yellow and stretched and away to the horizon shimmering in the heat. Clumps of rock and grey thorny shrubs were scattered haphazardly across the landscape, and far off a long dark shadow shimmered, cutting the border between desert and sky. The Black Mountains. The sharp barren peaks formed the border between the desert and the land beyond. Tallis had never been past them, but he had heard that beyond them many trees grew, some so tall that they blocked out the sky. The only trees he knew were the squat sparse trees of the sands. He looked at the shimmering line as he trudged silently beside Jared. Perhaps he would see the tall trees soon. The thought depressed him and he looked away.

  To his left, the sands rose to form the first in a row of dunes. High soft peaks continued on into the interior beyond the Jalwalah lands into the heart of the desert to the other clans’ lands: the fierce Raknah, the Halmahda, Shalneef and the Baal. They would not welcome another clan’s son.

  He took a deep breath, sucking the hot air into his lungs. The heavy ache in his chest weighed upon him. He could not stop seeing his father’s face as he lay dying in the sand. He stared at the back of the hunter walking in front of him. He had done something no man had ever done, but he could not remember how. Perhaps it had been the beasts themselves affecting him? But it was not, a voice whispered. It had come from him. He knew that with a certainty that sickened him. Cold fear curled around his bones and made a nest inside.

  He barely felt the heat of the sand on his feet, or the sun on his head. He looked at his mother walking alone. She had rejected all offers of company and walked stiffly her back straight, her head up. Pain for her loss, and his own, threatened to cleave him in two.

  Tonight the Clan would wash his father in the sacred sands and deliver him back to the Guides. Tonight the voices of the women would fill the desert with the cry of the dead, and tonight the council would hold the Guides Circle. A matter such as this would not wait.

  With every step fear settled itself more firmly within, and he looked ahead unseeing
as his thoughts circled in on each other like sand caught in a desert whip wind. Swirling around and around, circling inward around the one word that fed his fear: Outcast.

  9

  Preparations for the funeral rites began almost immediately they arrived back at the Well. A runner had been sent to forewarn the clan of their homecoming and all in the great cavern stood silent and watchful as the hunting party entered. Shila, the clan dreamer, came forward to speak quietly to Karnit while the men carrying Haldane took him to be readied for preparations to be sent to Kaa.

  Tallis could not look at anyone. He felt detached and cold waiting beside his mother. The Dreamer turned to them and took Mailun’s arm to help her back to their family cave. He followed behind, keeping his eyes down but feeling the gazes of the clan members upon him as they parted to let them by. He barely felt Jared put a hand on his shoulder squeezing tightly as he left him.

  They walked silently down the cool dim tunnel and his mother put her hand out behind her seeking his. He increased his pace to walk beside her and take her hand. Her flesh felt as cold as his own. The Dreamer said nothing as they walked and remained silent as she pushed aside the thick hide over their cave opening and led them inside.

  People came and went and the Dreamer spoke to them, standing guard at the entrance so none could enter. They left offerings for them: a bowl of soft cheese, a plait of flakgrass tied with silver as an offering to the dead, a pitcher of grain spirit from Miram’s own store and a silver braid tie from each hunter and warrior in the clan. All the offerings were taken while Tallis and Mailun sat silent on the cushions of their hearth.

  His mother refused to answer any question put to her and forbade anyone to speak to him. She was worried about what he might say, what they might think. After what felt like hours of this silence, Tallis could no longer sit and listen to the murmuring voices of his clan come to pity them. He looked at his mother. ‘I’m going to the springs.’

  Mailun gazed at him, squeezed his hand once then let go and looked away. His heart ached to see the fire burning so low in her eyes, but the need to escape all eyes was too great. He left, seeking the darkness and the sulphur scent of the water.

  He entered the spring tunnels and sat beside the furthest spring in the cave, listening to the drums echo from the great cavern. It was warm and damp where he sat and the splash from the spring soaked the legs of his trousers, but he barely noticed. He sat there for some time, just watching the water bubble and spit and then, slowly, he became aware of a dull thudding echoing. The drums heralding the death ceremony had started. Kaa’s ceremony: the watcher of the dead. He leaned back against the damp rock.

  He had to join them. He had to sit and keep watch as Haldane’s body was given back to the sands that birthed him. He watched the water bubbling in the dim, green-tinged light of the cave. It looked like dark shifting sand.

  ‘Tallis.’ A shadow came toward him.

  ‘Jared,’ he answered without looking up. ‘How soon till it starts?’

  ‘You have to come now, the clan is gathering.’

  He didn’t move.

  ‘Tallis . . .’

  ‘They will make me Outcast brother.’

  Jared let out a long breath. ‘You don’t know that.’

  He shook his head. ‘I feel it. What I did . . . the Guides Circle won’t tolerate it. A clansman shouldn’t . . . they will cast me out.’

  ‘They won’t.’ But Tallis heard the uncertainty in his voice.

  ‘Why not? The serpent understood me. It doesn’t matter that I don’t remember what I said, or how I did it. A clansman should not have that power. The Circle will do what is best for the clan. They may even say the serpents attacked because of me.’

  ‘Tallis, your father died but all the rest of us were saved. The serpents would have killed us all if you had not done what you did. How can they say you brought them?’

  ‘Maybe I did.’ He stared into the water. ‘I felt something that morning,’ he whispered.

  ‘Tallis . . .’ Jared said warningly, but he ignored him.

  ‘Do you remember my brothers, the fight with the Raknah?’ Jared nodded slowly.

  ‘I knew something was wrong then as well. Before they left I felt something – a coldness like death whispering for them. And I felt it again that morning while we were hunting. What am I to feel this? Perhaps I am a danger to the clan.’

  ‘Stop,’ Jared said harshly.

  The sound of the drums grew louder and Tallis stared into the dark water at his feet.

  ‘Come.’ Jared nudged his shoulder and offered his hand.

  Tallis took a breath then nodded and let Jared haul him to his feet, but once standing he clasped his arm. ‘Pledge to me that you will watch over my mother when they cast me out.’

  ‘They will not cast you out, Tallis, my father will . . .’

  ‘Your father will do what is right for the clan,’ he interrupted him. ‘As would you. Earth brother, my father is dead, my mother widowed, if I am to go she will be alone. You know she is not of this clan. But she will not go back to her own. Will you talk to your mother? Persuade her to make sure she is accepted. She has always been a friend to her. Will you pledge me your help?’

  Jared did not move and Tallis felt his throat constrict. After what felt like an age, Jared replied, ‘I cannot believe the Circle would cast you out with your father taken by Kaa, and your mother alone, but still I will pledge to do what I can should they decide against you.’

  Tallis felt a moment of relief; one small knot unravelling inside.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Come now,’ Jared said. ‘You must send your father to the Guides.’

  Together they walked toward the mouth of the cave.

  They were at the very outer edges of the Jalawalah Well, a system of caves that wound through a huge length of rock, rising from the desert like the edge of a long buried mountain. In the centre of the monolith an enormous cave served as the great cavern, the communal space for the clan. To one side a honeycomb of caves held the hot springs, on the other a long wide passage led to a section of pens for the muthu, and further along the home caves of the families of the Jalwalah who lived in the well. Almost two thousand people resided in the Well, and another thousand or more families sworn to their clan lived in nomadic camps spread out across their territory. But only those who dwelled in the Well would bear witness tonight.

  Tallis followed the narrow passage to the cavern. The sound of the death drums rolled toward him, and his body reverberated in response. He was drawn to their beat, the sound increasing to a boom as they approached the gathering place. They emerged as the drummers started slowing to a steady rhythm. The cave was lit by many torches, and by an enormous central brazier. The people sat silent, facing the cavern entrance. A clear path had been left between them on one side to let the Bearers through.

  Tallis looked for his mother. She was a small figure, alone at the front of the crowd, facing out to the desert night. Dressed only in a light sheath of red cloth she waited.

  When I first met her she threatened to run me through with her ice spear, Haldane’s voice came to him. And I would have let her, if only to touch her hand as she pierced my heart.

  Tallis looked at her now, straight-backed, facing the night fearless in her grief, and he saw what Haldane had meant. There was a noble fierceness to her that not even grief could erase. The dreadful ache inside threatened to cleave him in two.

  ‘I will take my place with my family.’ Jared put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Carry your father well, as he has carried you. Help him find his shade.’

  Tallis nodded unable to reply. Jared turned and weaved his way through the witnesses toward the front row behind Mailun. Tallis watched with a sense of detachment. He was alone. None would look at him. He was son of the dead, beholden to deliver a soul to Kaa. But that was not the only reason. A whisper had already started of what he had done.

  For a moment he could not move. His chest tightened.
He was anathema, to be despised. His father was dead while he – an abomination – lived. But he would deliver his father to Kaa with honour. He forced himself to turn and make his way down the cleared path, and through the black opening to the smaller caves behind the cavern where the body of his father waited.

  He approached him without speaking. Haldane had been laid on a length of stiffened hide tied to two wooden poles. Tallis nodded at the three men who had been chosen to bear the body with him. Halif, Fen and Rawiri: sons of Miram of the Guides Circle. He had played with them as a child and they filled the places his family would have taken – if he had any surviving. Haldane was the last of his line. Their faces painted black and shining with sweat, they watched him as he stood over his father. Outside the drums stopped.

  ‘It is time.’ Rawiri, the eldest, motioned Tallis to the front left pole.

  Tallis removed his shirt and took his position. Unlike the others he would not have his face painted. While the paint hid them, he would send his father to Kaa unmasked, naked of deceit. As one, the four men hefted the litter onto their shoulders and slowly carried their burden out. The drums started as they came again into the light. Tallis felt the wood bite into his shoulder and the sweat run down his back. He welcomed the pain; it served to push him from the aching separateness that engulfed him.

  They moved slowly past the witnesses to stand beside his mother at the great cavern’s entrance: Mailun kneeled motionless on the sand. Karnit and two members of the Circle, Miram and Nevan, stood in a line outside waiting.

  Two thigh-high square stones had been placed between his mother and the Circle members. Karnit gestured to the stones and Tallis and the other men moved forward and carefully lowered the litter down to rest on them. As he straightened, he looked down on the pale lifeless face of his father. His eyes had been closed and his hair re-braided into many thin braids, the ends sealed with red fat. A thin line of blue paint ran from his forehead to his chin.