Bedecked in red and gold finery, L’Ra pressed himself back into the cushions of the lounge and shielded his eyes against the bright lamps completely illuminating Plum Blossom Mountain’s villa.

L’Ra was sat in the private balcony with Lord Archasaur Duway, who had insisted he come out tonight to celebrate his early return to the Inner Sky.

And either Nihyl’s little friends had managed to keep their mouths shut about his arrival that morning, or all their superiors’ acting skills were indeed quite high calibre.

Everybody here tonight had been flustered to see L’Ra back so soon.

Madame Anahina’s private party for the Archasaurs and their retinue was in full swing. The topic of the evening seemed to be who had made what tribute to Mount Majwa.

This was not how L’Ra had wanted to come back to Plum Blossom Mountain.

The Hierarch was always welcome to these events, tribute or not, but L’Ra had no interest in parties, and given the incident with Senator Prahsta earlier at morning court, he was hardly in the mood.

A cheery roar erupted from the courtyard below, then blended back down into the lively nonstop noise of all the raptors in Plum Blossom Villa who that would be dining, drinking, and politicking late into the night.

L’Ra again covered his eyes.

If it weren’t for the Celestial Laws, he would have flung Senator Prahsta out of Celestial Palace and down the mountain.

How dare he look and talk to L’Ra like that. He should have killed him there and then. He was the Hierarch. Prahsta was a flea.

Yet L’Ra had read all the reports and rulings and decrees since his absence, and seen the edict at Celestial Palace bearing the Grand Chancellor’s seal.

Prahsta would be Acting Grand Chancellor until His Excellency returned to the Inner Sky.

Whatever his the Grand Chancellor had in mind with this arrangement, L’Ra didn’t understand.

He peeked through his hands at Duway beside him, sipping his drink. Even in simply cut white robes, Duway could never have been mistaken for a priest. The fabric of his apparel was visibly luxurious and decorated painstakingly with thin shimmering stripes.

“I thought I remembered that you used to really like it here,” said Duway. “The Grand Chancellor mentioned that you often came to Plum Blossom Mountain before you became the Hierarch. I must have remembered wrong. ”

Covered in plum trees, Plum Blossom Mountain was always a breathtaking sight when in bloom; its fragrance and fallen petals swirling in an aura of divine beauty.

More importantly, this Mountain’s particular geography also made its upward and downward flight course one of the most hellacious gauntlets in the Inner Sky.

The artisan of Nihyl’s new favourite painting had captured it perfectly in its boldness and subtlety.

L’Ra had known only one raptor who had dared make a wingdance on Plum Blossom Mountain’s course.

Truly, how eye-catching and eccentric Alejo had been, when he was alive.

Now the only trace of him left was a barren stone cenotaph on Sealed World Mountain, where the Grand Chancellor burned rare incense in his memory. Hardly anyone had even known his name.

Except L’Ra, who had known him very well.

But twelve years was a long time ago. L’Ra had long laid these things to rest.

“It’s fine,” L’Ra said.

“Hmm, perhaps it’s about to get finer,” said Duway pouring some liquor for L’Ra into one of the empty cups at the centre of the table and handing it to him. “Wriz is here.”

The hanging lanterns in their balcony swayed as Lord Archasaur Wriz flew in and alighted at their table. Wriz went straight to the balcony’s railing, leaning out and waving to the raptors below who cheered at his flashy arrival, raising their drinks to him jovially.

When Wriz returned to the table with a deliberately obtuse smile on his flawless face, he snapped up one of the cups and toasted. “Your Highness. Duway. Welcome back.”

He made to toss back his drink, and did a double-take when he found the cup empty.

“You’re in a good mood,” said Duway.

Wriz helped himself to the liquor and drank with a satisfied sigh, before flopping down to the table and pouring himself some more.

“It was a good day,” said Wriz. He loosened the ties on his intricately-patterned pale blue robe, reclining casually on the floor. “But why the long face, L’Ra? Aren’t you happy to be home?”

L’Ra drank down his cup.

Considering the state of the Inner Sky, how could he possibly be home?

“Let me guess, you had a row with Senator Prahsta at morning court?” Said Wriz.

When L’Ra didn’t move a muscle on his stone-cold mask of a face, Wriz turned to Duway, who recounted what he’d witnesses of the morning’s events.

“Hmm,” said Wriz when Duway was done, contemplating into his cup, or perhaps inspecting his reflection. “What if you did in fact become involved at Celestial Court? Call Senator Prahsta’s bluff and challenge him in his roost.”

“It would certainly shake up the factions as they stand,” said Duway.

“I don’t want to get involved with the Court,” said L’Ra.

He wasn’t like Duway and Wriz, who could compromise and capitulate and cooperate with those bureaucrats.

“It really would be the most effective avenue to getting your way, L’Ra.”

“Now’s as good a time as any,” said Wriz, swirling his drink. “Wouldn’t that amaze the Grand Chancellor, to find you in Court upon his return?”

“I wonder how long his absence will be this time?” Said Duway. “Given how thorough Sayzei is, His Excellency takes the Vanguard’s serpent reports very seriously.”

“I don’t need to play Prahsta’s games to get what I want,” said L’Ra.

“What about Nihyl?” Offered Duway “You could consider it part of his education.”

L’Ra huffed. “He’s seen enough from the two of you. He already understands it.”

Yes, Nihyl’s obnoxious entourage was proof enough of his grasp on politics. L’Ra wasn’t worried about that.

“That’s right,” said Wriz, with a self-satisfied grin. “Nihyl’s political prowess definitely didn’t come from you.”

L’Ra reached past Duway for the carafe of liquor to refill his own cup.

Nihyl should have reported the situation in court to him when he got home. But of course his astute disciple had his own agenda.

“Where did you get that painting?” Said L’Ra instead. “The one you gave to Nihyl?”

Wriz smiled humourlessly. “Beautifying your villa, is it? My precious painting?”

“Ah,” said Duway, “The one you lost gambling in Freezing Sky Parlour?”

Wriz drank with a scowl. “Where did that little chit learn to rattle dice, anyway?”

Duway said, “Wriz, weren’t you the one to teach him?”

“When I flew in,” said Wriz, “that disciple of yours was embarrassing himself on Frigid Mountain, making laps like a hoon.”

L’ra rolled his eyes. “He can do whatever he likes as long as he wins.”

“How fortunate for Nihyl, his Master is so responsible,” said Wriz, “As for the painting, I’m not telling you where I got it.”

“Are you looking to pay tribute to Madame Anahina too?” Asked Duway. “The tributes this time have gotten way out of hand, in my opinion. I mean, look at this place…”

If Duway and Wriz hadn’t been with L’Ra in the private balcony reserved for the Hierarch, they would have been standing almost shoulder to shoulder with the other guests.

“Yes,” said L’Ra, who had noticed it immediately.

Every single Archasaur in the Inner Sky was here tonight, in the same place as the Hierarch, as if it was the opening ceremony for Hunting season in the Empyrean.

But Hunting season was still months away. None of them could lay a talon on L’Ra yet.

“Ah, that’s right,” said Wriz. “You don’t know this, L’Ra, because you just got back, but there’s a reason why every single Archasaur made a tribute to Mount Majwa this time.”

“You two also made tributes?” Asked L’Ra.

Duway and Wriz kept their faces amicably unreadable.

Wriz continued, “It’s because about two weeks  ago, a very strange prophecy came out of the Directorate of Divination. Only the Aven who are here right now know about it.”

Duway recited the prophecy. “Possess peerless piety to the Majwa, and you will possess the prize of Heaven; you will possess the world.”

“What does that mean?” said L’Ra. The language of diviners was maddening.

“More riddlesome than usual, isn’t it?” Said Duway. “I suppose it should be, with the power it’s promising.”

“Yes,” said Wriz. “They’ve all made extravagant tributes. Madame Anahina must be so busy, counting everything up.”

“It’s phrased so strangely,” said L’Ra. “It can’t be that simple.”

In fact, it was absurd. How could paying an impressive tribute give a raptor blessing enough to Hunt down the Hierarch?

Wriz leaned in closely to whisper his next words. He gestured to the party around them.

“Some of them think that ‘piety to the Majwa’ is a reference to an Aven. Maybe a priest or a scholar who can help them control the court,” said Wriz. “But I also heard that it could be a certain treasure. A rare and valuable object.”

Duway said, “I see. You know, I heard that the mythic mural of Cheela and Ponike was offered as tribute out of Celestial Palace.”

“Oh, that could be it,” nodded Wriz. “Cheela, the serpent-slaying god. And Ponike, the Wingmaker. The two of them well-matched equals.”

“That’s not right,” said Duway. “What version of the legend is that?”

The two of them went back and forth on the details of the mural’s myth.

“Ponike had wings of flame. When she died, she was reborn. It was because of her that Cheela became a god.”

“Yes,” said L’Ra, refereeing the most important point. “They weren’t equals.”

Wriz, defeated, changed the subject.

“Well, I know you don’t put much stock in divination, L’Ra,” said Wriz. “Just like Madame Anahina, until her disciple came up to the Eyrie.”

“Speaking of which, there she is now,” said Duway.

There was a kerfuffle as everybody else in the party noticed that Madame Anahina had exited her manor, and they all gravitated to the railings of Plum Blossom Villa’s open courtyard.

L’Ra and his party already had a perfect view  from the privileged place of the villa’s private balcony.

He could see everything from the outer walls of Triple Yobel Mansion’s courtyard on the cliffs of Mount Majwa, and down the length of the mountain.

Additionally, from where he was sitting, the massive statue of the Great Majwa looked like it was cupping the Holy Disk of Heaven where it was raised on Celestial Mountain.

The Disk tonight was as lovely as ever, though it was already waning fast and would soon be completely depleted.

L’Ra sipped his liquor without tasting it. This party at Plum Blossom Mountain was nothing. He already knew where he should have been instead.

Below the balcony and all around it, the raptors in the villa were blabbering.

“Will Madame Anahina raise the crest and colours of the most pious donation?”

“It doesn’t looks like she’s has anything with her.”

“No, look at that. It’s…”

L’Ra looked.

Madame Anahina was holding an imitation artefact of the Holy Disk.

Flat like a dish, one could use their spiritus to send it spinning, giving it the properties of a lightweight sphere that could be rolled and thrown and caught.

Raptors, particularly Archasaurs trained with them in their soarplay.

However, Triple Yobel Mansion also had one; an especially delicate and ornamental variant that had only ever been a decoration hanging in the main hall.

“I wonder,” said Duway, quoting the prophecy. “Could that disk be the ‘piety to the Majwa?’”

Its appearance sure had caused a stir.

“Someone is there with her!”

“She’s handing it to them!”

“Who is that?”

Beside Madame Anahina, there was a stranger on the cliffs of Mount Majwa.

By the paltry illumination of the imitation Disk, the only features L’Ra could make out was this Aven’s long hair and fluttering robes, lacking arm guards. Lacking technical gear.

The stranger accepted the disk.

“Aren’t there only outsiders on that mountain right now?” The gathered raptors complained.

“This is ridiculous! It’s not possible to make a wingdance on Mount Majwa!”

Either the stranger would quickly learn this, or everybody in Plum Blossom Villa was wrong.

The long-haired stranger made the ritual gestures, spinning the disk, then tipped themselves off the cliffs of Mount Majwa, careening fast through the terribly short drop, before snapping their wings open and starting a wingdance.

Nobody could look away.

On the tiny course of Mount Majwa, with tightly controlled soarplay, the little disk began to glow brighter and brighter, as the mysterious raptor flew it viciously, fearlessly, reverently, up and down the mountain.

When the disk was full, the raptor took it up to the cupped hands of the statue of the Great Majwa.

Backlit by the Holy Disk dimming out now on Celestial Mountain, the wingdancer stopped the spin and dipped the dish in the Suffuse waters brewing there.

The crowded raptors sounded in shock as the stranger, kneeling in the palms of the Great Majwa, lifted the disk and gracefully drank down that dreadful poison.

At the same time, the Holy Disk and its little clone both went out, and the stranger disappeared into darkness.

L’Ra’s heart was racing.

Everybody in the villa shaken.

“What did I just witness?”

“That was Suffuse water. They may never fly again.”

“Why would it matter if they could or couldn’t fly? Is there a greater show of piety than what you just saw?”

“Well, well, well,” said Wriz, pouring himself all the liquor left in the carafe. “The Ponike Wingmaker is reborn.”

Duway smiled. “Whoever will have that raptor as their Wingmaker, will surely conquer Heaven, and ascend to the top of the world.”

Nobody was looking at L’Ra then, but he could feel it. How much they wanted to overthrow him; how hungry they were to do it.

Good.

That was the way it should be.

Let one impossibility inspire another.

Let the shining talent of one devotee go out, to heat up the soarplay of Ouranos, and light the Hunt in the Empyrean on fire.