Worries nibbled at his thoughts, about his ability to lead the hunt, about the changing Wild, about the state of his house and the fate of his mother, following him as he entered the Chrysalis Chamber. It was only when the crystal plates of his armour were against his skin that they began to fade. As he rose up on his Sky-legs, he also rose beyond all other concerns.

I can do this. I will do this.

In his own castle, the glass that formed three of the walls would open onto a balcony where he could address his people. Here, he was forced to ascend wing-width stairs painted to resemble a cloud-touched sky. As he took them three at a time, he began to have a new sense of unease. Usually, a hunt began with an address, something to set the tone and bond the crowd, such that their shouts and song would empower the hunters’ wings when they took flight. But he did not know these people well, nor had he hunted with Lakshin or Quasim before. A good speech came from the heart, but his was full of misgivings.

How can I speak truth here?

The stairs brought him out into a long and narrow courtyard. The suns were only just clearing the walls, the gold light of Fortune’s Eye splayed through the crenellations, making finger-beams overhead. He was used to standing above the crowd but in the Ruby castle, the crowd were lining battlements, packing stairways and standing on boxes, all looking down on him.

In the middle of the space stood another Deathless, garbed in glittering green. Elaborate flutes of peridot twisted away from his elbows, shoulders, and the sides of his helmet, making it look as if jets of water had been frozen mid-motion. His wings were smaller than any Vasin had seen before, providing extra manoeuvrability at the cost of power. It would take great skill to use such wings well.

Let us hope Lord Quasim Peridot possesses such skill.

Quasim had obviously been enjoying the sole attention of the crowd. As Vasin emerged into the light, the Peridot Deathless was bantering with the hunters in a loud voice. ‘… Perhaps so, but mine is bigger, and a more interesting shape!’

The laugh of the crowd was raucous, the kind of thing he’d expect at a feast, not a hunt. It was disrespectful, wrong, and worse than that, dangerous. What is Quasim thinking!

He was so outraged that for a while he couldn’t find the words to speak. Perhaps something of his feeling communicated itself however, for laughter faded and died, and all eyes gradually turned to him. It was time for the speech, but traditionally, all had to be present before he started, and they were missing a Deathless. Where is Lakshin?