If indeed it was a capradon, then it must yet be a fledgling. Kiet exited out into the sixth sky bridge and caught glimpse of it just as it went circling around the peak of the pagoda. He gasped at the sight; a blur of silver-black like polished hematite.

It was large for a bird, certainly. Larger even than Nagha. He estimated a good ten feet wingspan, but capradons were said to reach an average of five-and-twenty in their prime. Not only that, these raptors were known for their long, thick, branching horns. This one barely had grown its nubs—two sharp points curling out- and backwards from the crown of its head; pale white in contrast to the rest of its body. They gleamed liked fresh steel between flashes of lightning that spread through the clouds.

'There! You see it?' Another flash rippled through the sky. 'They're antlers! I swear!'

The guard's companion was not so certain. 'There's no way. They're ears, you dolt! He has white ears!'

'So it has four ears in total, does it?'

'What, so you actually think it's a capradon? The bird that no one past our great-grandfathers' generation has seen?'

Palace guards and instructors were scattered along the bridge. Kiet stopped just a third of the way across. 'One of my brothers long ago said he's come across a capradon.'

The thought of Alain churned Kiet's stomach. All those years had his half-brother humoured him, sat him down and amused with tales of his travels; the sights and creatures and peoples of their realm ... What would he have done, had he known that decades later, Kiet would come so close to claiming the daughter he died protecting?

'Right. And did he also tell you he's fucked with—' The skeptic stopped short upon turning and seeing with whom he was speaking.

Kiet shielded his eyes and searched the skies, but the beast had already disappeared around the corner of the pagoda. 'Does it look to be attacking?'

The guards exchanged a wary look, as though the thought only then occurred to them. 'I ... we ... it's only been circling us, maharaj. We've never seen such a beast before, so we cannot tell its intentions ... should we ready the crossbows?'

Akai came behind him and smacked the guard across the head. 'The first potential sighting of a capradon and you want to kill it?'

A whistle called from high above, and sure enough the bird came circling back, this time lower, gliding down with the force of the wind, closer and closer.

All the men scattered but for Kiet and Akai, both recognising something in the bird's clear, grey eyes.

'Reijyr smite me, maharaj—is that—'

Nagha squawked once more and landed upon the handrail. His wings stretched out behind him, wide enough to shadow both men standing abreast. He shook the rain off his feathers, leaned in for a pet, painfully unaware of how large it had grown over the past three weeks. His beak alone was longer than the span of Kiet's hand, and dangerously sharp as he preened against his cheek.

It is.

Kiet stepped back in awe. He was bigger, darker, but it was the same silhouette. The same passive soaring wings, the same silver-flecked feathers, the same jerking of his head as he looked, expectantly, at Kiet.

'So you've not forgotten about me, after all.' He pushed its pointed beak away from his eyes, still uncertain of what exactly he was seeing.

'A swiftlet, hmm?' The voice came from their right, where appeared the truth-weaver from the shelter of the pagoda.

'I thought he was.' Surely it could be not his theurgy. Kiet reached up to inspect the growth protruding from behind Nagha's ears. The creature lowered his head to oblige.

He had been wrong. His therapeut had been wrong. Nagha was manifesting physical traits of the sun bear not at all. It was neither nails nor claws nor scales nor teeth that grew out of the bird's skull. It was bone. A pair of four-inch, hardening, thickening bones.

'Where did you say you found him, maharaj?' This was Akai, tentatively reaching out to study the primaries of its wing.

'The peaks of Mount Mrabu.' If a capradon had nested there, it could easily have been missed, hidden behind that forest of centuries-old conifers, ringed around a scattering of bluffs and ridges and crags. 'In a cave full of swifts, so I assumed—but his own nest had been destroyed, so I never actually—'

The roof of the cave had collapsed. What greater weight could that have caused but one of a creature so large such as a nesting capradon?

Kiet ran his hands through his hair, clamping it tight against the endless wind. What a fool had he been.

'I don't understand ... so did your pranopeucy mess it up or not?'

'Apparently not. At least not physically.' If anything, it might have accelerated his growth—capradons were said to grow slowly over the course of decades, rivalling the lifespan of even a winged nagha. But his Nagha ... Kiet only hoped the pranopeucy would taper down, otherwise they would soon be struggling to accommodate both his appetite and size. 'But if truly we need know, then we must make use of Khaisan's sattwapeut.'

'That's not a good idea.'

'No.' In fact, he suspected Fadjira already long guessed Nagha's true nature.

Perhaps that is why they were so adamant in inspecting him.

But that reminded him.

Kiet looked around. Guards and soldiers, palace matrons and instructors, dhayang freshly out of or skipping their classes—crowds of people had gathered; watching from the lower sky bridges, peering out from the windows of the surrounding pagodas. 'Where is Khaisan?'

Heat burned the side of his cheek. Upon impulse he craned up to look upon the highest tier of the Seven-Skies Pagoda, and there a young man stood watching through a window of the Rama's chambers, face impassive as he met Kiet's gaze.

'Do you blame him for his resentment?' Taeichi muttered close to his ear. 'It seems you are favoured not only by the Rama, but also by the gods. In anyone's book are you the villain of his story.'

A capradon.

Kiet recalled Alain's tales of meeting one upon his travels. Whether or not it had been true mattered little to Kiet at the time; the idea of it alone was enough to fill him with awe. The one Alain spoke of had been full-grown; 'So large he covered the light of the full moon and left me in darkness,' he had said.

'What of his antlers?' Kiet had asked.

'Horns. Antlers shed each year, but a capradon's grow and stay with it forever. His was sharper than a kalis, longer than a gumara and half as thick, and branching like the tributaries of a great river.'

Alain had left not long after, and still for days after his departure would Kiet stand, marvelling at their father's throne and the great beast carved above it. Its head and wings might be from stone long crafted, but its horns and ivory beak were real—a great capradon had many centuries ago been felled to decorate the royal audience chamber—and Kiet wished then if only their ancestors had kept the creature instead of its trophy.

Now one stood before him, young though it was. A thought so bizarre it was yet to fully hit him. To think how he had coveted Alain his experiences. Was Khaisan now covetous just the same?

No. Not the same. I never resented Alain.

That envy, that covetousness, had aspired Kiet to learn and see more of the world, not sulk behind a window. 'You resent me, also, truth-weaver? Is that what this is?'

'Of course not.' His surprise seemed genuine. 'I only say this to warn you. Resentment makes a formidable whip, can turn any pack mule into a warhorse. The last thing we need is a motivated maharam.'

'If the maharam had been only more motivated, I'd have not so much favour to begin with. I'll apologise not for simply living; I'll demure myself not to him, if that is what you suggest.'

'Then be prepared to have his blade in your back.'

Kiet laughed, but his humour was superficial. Once upon a time might he and Khaisan have shared a bond so strong and pure, but for years now was that no longer the case. He had allowed his mother get away with her treatment of the commonfolk, and he had allowed his father get away with his treatment of Khaisan. Now it was too late to undo the repercussions of both.

Still a part of him could imagine not a betrayal so deep and despicable, not even for all the bitterness and resentment swelling in Khaisan's heart.

But is my own betrayal not so deep and despicable? There he was, not merely conspiring, but proceeding to rob his nephew of his own birthright. To Khaisan, it may as well be a betrayal worse than murder.

Voices interrupted his train of thoughts. People were slowly streaming out onto the bridge, whispering amongst themselves, approaching Kiet and Nagha as close as they dared, and Kiet was reminded of the sight before him.

'Is it real?' Someone asked, her voice full of wonder.

Kiet, too, would like to know.

'Look, it's still a capelet!' whispered another.

'Its horns are barely the size of a fruit knife!'

'It hasn't even started branching yet.'

Whispers soon turned to open chatter, and the bridge quickly was filled with excitement. Nagha hopped and jerked at the sudden influx of attention whilst Kiet struggled to rebuff as kindly as he could their requests to touch the bird. Capelet or no, Nagha's claws looked sharp enough to skewer a man, and Kiet was no longer certain he could control his feathered friend—especially if he became too agitated.

'Is he your pet, maharaj?' The question rose above all the others, and the crowd quieted to hear its answer. 'A bondmate?'

'No, no.' Kiet chuckled, for once stirring with discomfort. Their eyes were wide and glazed, he had to turn to Taeichi to cleanse himself with the truth-weaver's complacency. 'Only a bird I nursed to health.'

Nagha called as though in indignance, beating his wings against the dying rain and taking back off into the sunset.

Kiet sighed. Thank the gods at least it was not a woman, or she would be flying back to the Mrabu and refuse to return until he chased after her. But the last thing he needed right now was a coterie of admirers; especially not with Khaisan's eyes drilling through the back of his neck.

But speaking of women.

Kiet made his excuses and retreated back towards the pagoda, Akai behind him, already grumbling out a list of logistical issues they'd must consider before bringing Nagha home. 'It would all be much easier,' he said, 'if you had already taken seat at Pior Lam. The provincial palace has ample grounds for even a full-grown capradon.'

If all goes well, I'd never even claim the title of provincial prince.

Would Khaisan accept the title in his stead? Would it even be wise to install him upon so powerful a position? What else was he to do with his nephew?

Isla had such issues not considered—nor did Kiet expect her to—but these were things for which he'd must prepare. Khaisan would hardly sit content if the Rama realigned the succession, nor would Persi. He doubted either would raise arms and contest ... but if they had the Obusirjan voice behind them ... Djuro might hold keys to the Obsidian Fortress, but who was to say his men were not still devoted to Omana and her daughters?

And with Judhistir weakened by age and aqhla ...

No. Kiet entered the pagoda's teak, floral-carved doors.

Still would the combined might of Kam Phor and House Obusirjan be insufficient against Djatiswara and Samarat and Pior Lam and Indipar and Arang Sai ... all provinces held by men yet loyal to the Rama.

And once I am wed to Hanjou Fukuse ... Neither Persi nor Khaisan would dare raise banners against him.

So why were his nights spent still sleepless, turning his head inside-out, searching up ways to undo his betrothal without evoking the Emperor's ire?

Kiet pushed open the doors to his chambers, but Isla was no longer there.

He sniffed, not entirely certain what he had been expecting. He turned to glare at his captain, whose own face remained as oblivious as always, then at Taeichi and that vaguely smug smile of his. He'd send him away were he not more concerned of what the truth-weaver would do with a free evening, and with whom he would do it.

'We must speak of our plans for you during Hanjou Fukuse's visit.' He pushed the door closed. 'We can allow neither her nor her attendants to see you.'

'I thought her visit would be a long while yet.'

'It is. But perhaps it is best to keep you away of the capital regardless, if only for precaution.'

His vague smugness turned to a full-blown smirk. 'You are banishing me, maharaj?'

'Such a flair for the dramatic. I'll have you do nothing without your own accord, but it requires no great intelligence to know the dangers should you choose to remain in Kathedra.'

'Where, then, would you have me go?'

'Anywhere you wish.' Anywhere far. 'Though I'd suggest my maternal home in Arang Sai. Regardless of how things here transpire, they'd not strike House Almandanu.'

'Your concern for me is touching. Unfortunately I must decline.'

'And put all our efforts at risk?'

'Once the hanjou arrives in your kingdom will I be glad to make myself scarce. But until then, I am here to stay. I may be posing as a member of your guard, but you must remember it is Isla-dae who took me out of the Emperor's reach, and it is to Isla-dae's instructions I heed.'

'I can have her instruct you to leave anytime I please.'

Taeichi's smile never wavered. 'Can you?' He waited for a response that never came.

Kiet had no strength to posture. It was unlike him to go even this far.

'If you will excuse me, maharaj,' he continued once it became clear Kiet would pursue no more of the matter. 'I must prepare for the evening meal.'

Kiet nodded him out, Akai shaking his head once the Tsun shut the door behind him. 'A truth-weaver has many uses, maharaj. It would be advantageous to keep him as close as possible for as long as possible.'

'You're the one who tried to intimidate him through single-armed combat.'

'And now you're trying to wheedle him out completely. Don't make an enemy out of a valuable ally.'

'An enemy?' Taeichi may be aggravating and self-satisfied, but there was no ill-will between the two of them. 'For all his faults, the truth-weaver is wise enough to know the difference between petty rivalry and open animosity. A maturity Khaisan has sadly never attained.'

'Well, it seems to me you have two too many rivals, maharaj, especially during a delicate assignment as this.'

'You think I want either of them to contend with?'

'All I'm saying is now's not the time for distractions. Sometimes it's better to surrender small victories in order to win the greater war.'

'Surrender to Taeichi?' As if the man did not already make him feel like the second lead in a playhouse show for lonely wives. 'Let me worry about my own personal issues, Akai. I need you only to keep an eye on Khaisan and that sattwapeut of his.'

    
❖ ❖ ❖
    

☆ this chapter is dedicated to VenusInterlude101 ☆

Video: 夢trxnquil
Image: Original artists unknown

Looks like little birb might not be so little after all. Kiet might not have seen it coming from much earlier, but did you?