The terrace was empty when Aranck stepped out past the potted plants. At this time of day when the heat of the suns still lingered, he had expected nothing less. He noted approvingly as he passed the last of the containers that Nuna had placed them in such a way as to provide shade for the weakest plants. These had been brought some considerable distance from the forest by supplicants knowing that by giving his wife such a gift she might influence his judgements in their disputes. He smiled at the thought. He turned to note the karek was dormant. Why the woman had chosen to include such a dangerous plant in her collection, he’d no idea. Its tendrils, which it shot out like a lasso, were used to provide the thing with its prey and sustenance. He was just glad it was an immature specimen and only fit for catching small prey. Once red evening began it would awaken and pity any dragonbat that flew too close.

His gaze turned to the vista before him. Although it was now very familiar, as he’d trod the same path more times than he could count, he still liked to view his domain. The three other towers that made up the city, all slightly shorter in height than the one he was on, glistened orange as Ceti, the larger and brighter of the two suns, dipped below the horizon. Soon, he knew it would be red evening when Tauni ruled. The half-light before it too went to sleep provided some of the best time of the day. Pity, he cursed, he would have to spend it arguing with Matwau, the Jokari of the Acatec clan.

Then a disturbance in the distance caught his eye. Two bunches of windweed were being carried on the breeze. He noted a few others behind them. His heart leap at the sight, for with the windweed came the whayles. There would be a hunt tomorrow. The thought came into his mind that Kitchi, Nini’s brother’s eldest son needed to undergo the rite. So he would get to take part in at least one chase even though he suspected after his meeting that affairs of state would take up most of his time. As they had since he’d become leader, he reflected ruefully. Was it really worth all the fighting to end up like this? Never able to sit back and enjoy life. He put the thought out of his mind. He’d chosen his path and had to follow it to wherever it led.

He heard someone coming up behind him. Without turning he knew who it was. ‘Machk, you do not need to accompany me this time.’

‘I would be more comfortable if I came along. You never know what evil is being planned against you,’ the newcomer answered.

‘As you will,’ Aranck acceded. The same dialogue, word for word, had been repeated ever since the northerner had joined him in his quest to unite the warring factions along the cliffs. Machk was more than a bodyguard; after his wives, over the years, he’d become the closest thing to a friend. He trusted him with his life and owed his current position to his strength and guile in combat. He realised he had a lot to be thankful for. Turning to see Machk approach, Aranck realised the bond that linked them would only be broken by one or other’s death.

‘So what does the Jokari want this time?’ Machk demanded.

Aranck chose not to reply to him directly. ‘See, windweed. Young Kitchi can earn his birthright tomorrow.’

‘And you’ll no doubt use that as an excuse to be part of the hunt?’ Machk grumbled.

Aranck grinned. ‘You know me too well.’ He laughed out loud. ‘I need to do something unexpected.’

‘Like not going,’ Machk shot back before going on grimly, ‘One of these days someone will assassinate you during a hunt.’

‘True,’ Aranck conceded. ‘But it’s Nuna’s nephew. She’d never forgive me if I wasn’t there. Besides, I need to show myself. People will wonder if I’m still alive.’

‘And when you do, you’ll get an arrow between your ribs,’ Machk pointed out, then he smiled, something that Aranck hadn’t seen much of in his friend and bodyguard, ‘but not if I’m around.’

‘Well, wish me luck,’ Aranck suggested as he made for the parapet and threw himself into the air. His wings opened instinctively and he floated as he flew on the hot currents that rose all around him. With hardly any effort he drifted towards his destination, the second highest tower in the city after his own. As he floated towards it, he had a good look at the valley below them, already shrouded in gloom. A narrow river ran along its length and it glistened against the dull orange of the canyon’s rocky bottom. On the other side, he noted activity where some of the poorer city dwellers had established rookeries on the cliffs. He wondered if he should take the trouble to inspect their caves. By the amount of scree on the valley floor, considerable tunnelling had been going on. He made a mental note to ask Machk to find out how many families now lived there.

Aranck drifted lower and turned his attention elsewhere and gazed out at the desert that started at almost at the base of the cliffs. A small area had a few kulba plants and a moss that could prosper in the harsh conditions. In the setting sun, he imagined he could see shapes moving there in the dust. But it was, he knew, just an illusion. He briefly recalled his thought about attempting to find what was on the opposite side. No one had come forward when he’d sought out adventurers to make the attempt. They all probably thought he was mad the way he kept coming up with new schemes and ideas. Most never took to the air but some had paid handsome dividends, like the new settlement upriver. He reminded himself that he should go and visit it soon to see how much progress had been made. The recent reports suggested it was going well. But he knew that fawning courtiers might embellish the truth for his benefit. He sighed inwardly as he approached his destination, it would be good to have a few more honest men like Machk. He automatically folded his wings as he swooped into the hole in the rock column and ran forward a few paces as his talons scratched on the already striated stone under his feet. He felt and heard Machk come in right behind him, his weaponry jingling as he landed.

With a nod to the reception party awaiting him, Aranck made for the passageway at the back of the cavern. Machk, he knew, would be right behind him, hand on his blass to warn anyone foolish enough to try anything stupid like attacking him. Oh, he would love that, Aranck decided; a chance to use his big sword. The man was never happier than in a scrap. An attempt on his life would make him gloat the next time they drank dreamflower wine together.

They entered a large chamber which had two holes out onto the canyon that gave in the light. Sitting at a chair, the elderly Jokari eyed him warily. His shaman stood a short distance behind him and eyed Aranck with hostility. Turning his attention on Tawau, Aranck looked for any sign the man was losing his faculties. But could detect none. ‘Welcome, Tyrant,’ the other opened and gestured at a vacant chair. ‘Seat? As you can see I am an old man and take my comforts where I can.’

Aranck shrugged off the implied slight and remained standing. ‘You asked to meet with me, Matwau,’ he replied. ‘In deference to your age,’ he grinned inwardly at the way he had turned the other’s opening gambit, ‘I have come to you.’ Aranck could see the other visibly bristled briefly before the Jokari got control of his emotions. The shaman shifted his position.

‘Enough sparring,’ Matwau decided, ‘I would not be speaking with you unless it was important business.’ Aranck waved a hand in agreement. ‘As you can see, I am aged. I will not be long for this mortal plane and will soon ascend to join my brothers sitting in banquet with Ceti.’ Aranck didn’t consider that the old man was just about to drop dead in front of him, but said nothing. His skin had the blotches of old age but he’d seen far more extensive ones in others. He wondered what his game was. The chief went on, ‘I need to appoint my successor soon so as to avoid any dispute when I ascend.’

Aranck wondered why he had been called to discuss this and was immediately suspicious. ‘That’s an internal affair for the Acatecs,’ he pointed out.

‘Indeed,’ Matwau concurred, ‘It has been our custom to appoint the next eldest. That would be my younger brother Sucki, who you exiled.’

With one hand, Aranck rubbed his chin as he sought time to consider what to say. He’d known this moment was likely to come and had done his best to prepare himself for it. Eventually as Matwau scowled at him, he gave his answer. ‘I cannot allow Sucki to return to become the next Jokari. You must choose someone else. Who is next in line?’

The shaman spoke in a voice that echoed in the chamber, ‘It is not the tradition to appoint another. We must appoint Matwau’s brother.’

Aranck knew this was the decisive moment in their confrontation. ‘As you know, I stand by tradition,’ he soothed before adding, ‘but it is also my duty to bring peace to all the clans. Sucki defied me and paid the price. He cannot be Jokari.’ He paused momentarily eyeing them both before continuing, ‘Shall I take it upon myself to make the appointment. Is that what you want?’

‘No,’ both men replied as one. Matwau waved at the shaman to silence him before continuing, ‘We will not give up the traditions we have just because you have the power to make us. We will appoint Sucki but his eldest son will act as his representative since he cannot attend his duties in person. When Sucki comes back…’

Aranck interrupted him, ‘If, and it is a big if. I would need evidence of a change of heart.’

‘So do you agree with our arrangement, Tyrant?’ the shaman demanded. There was a note of defiance in his voice.

Aranck was not about to be bounced into making a rash decision. ‘I will sleep on it and let you know my answer on Ceti’s rise,’ he informed them.

‘Tomorrow, then,’ Matwau conceded, ‘but do not delay your decision.’

‘You will have my answer then,’ Aranck confirmed. ‘Now, is there anything else you wish to discuss with me?’ He decided to throw in a bit of mischief. ‘Have you found me some volunteers to cross the great sands.’

‘Bah,’ Matwau complained, ‘you jest with me. No one would be foolish enough to take up your offer.’

‘I am disappointed,’ Aranck feigned disappointment, ‘I was hoping for some good news.’

‘Isn’t my ascension good news,’ Matwau shot back.

Aranck liked the man’s style even if he was hostile in his intentions. And quick with his tongue, he thought. ‘And with whom shall I have these conversations when you are gone?’

At this, as if it was a signal, the shaman walked over to the entrance and shouted something that Aranck could not quite catch. The healer returned to his position behind the Jakari. Even as he did so, a young man entered the chamber.

‘You called for me, Jakari,’ the lad explained as he presented himself. He then realised where he was. ‘My apologies for intruding on your meeting, Tyrant.’

Before Aranck could say anything, Matwau announced, ‘This is my nephew, Keme, Suchi’s eldest. He would deputise for Suchi in his absence.’

Aranck looked the lad over. He looked young; but then again, most people looked young to him now. The lad could only be fifteen seasons or so. He was also somewhat lighter than the others in the room. He wondered if he was part Crola. There had been some intermarriages between the different clans now that the warring had stopped. He was of the right age. ‘Are you ready, lad, for the heavy duties of a Jokari?’

Keme gave him a broad smile before eagerly explaining, ‘Matwau has been training me. I am ready.’

Aranck could not fault the lad’s enthusiasm. He returned the boy’s smile and complimented him, ‘I am glad you are keen.’ He then added sombrely, ‘Matwau is your Jokari and may he live long and fly high.’ This was not really addressed at the lad, but at the others in the room. Given the progress he felt he’d been making in uniting the clans, Aranck didn’t want this to be destabilised by a young, impetuous and untried leader of the second most important clan of the city. He added for the boy’s benefit, ‘You must come to share a meal. Please accept my invitation. I’ll send word as to when.’ He briefly gazed out one of the windows. Red evening had descended and movements in the shadows told him the dragonbats were out and about. ‘There will be a hunt tomorrow,’ he mused, ‘will you be taking part?’

‘I would not miss it,’ Keme announced brightly. ‘The Acatec will bring back the largest whayle.’

Aranck laughed. ‘If all the hunters are like you, I don’t doubt it. But we shall see.’ He gestured towards Matwau. ‘I believe our business is completed. Look after Keme. You will have my answer tomorrow after the hunt.’

Matwau growled, ‘I expect nothing less.’

‘May Ceti light your dreams,’ Aranck added, using the traditional parting at night. He gestured at Machk and made his way back to the entrance they’d landed at.

Without waiting to see if his companion was with him, he threw himself into the air. With only Tauni’s weak light, the earlier thermals had much weakened and Aranck had to beat his wings in order to rise up to the terrace on the top of his tower. He noted that two men armed with spears stood guard there. Undoubtedly, Aranck mused, keeping a lookout in case anyone tried anything as to attempt him harm. One of Machk’s precautions, he realised.

As he flew, he shared the airspace with a couple of curious dragonbats that were chasing the many moths that had emerged in the cooler air to feed and spawn. The little flyers zipped this way and that as they sought out moths, their long necks twisting as they snatched an insect out of the air.

He manoeuvred in to land. Aranck caught a glimpse of Machk, who was keeping station about ten feet behind him. Aranck waved a recognition before folding his wings as he stepped onto the hard stone floor of the terrace and ran forward a couple of paces. He made his way towards the ramp leading to the lower levels. When he got to the collection of plants that hid the entrance, he noted the karek had woken up and its tendrils shot out even as he walked past. They missed him but he reminded himself to talk to Nuna about it. He felt uncomfortable about it being around.