Xi's shaven head grew chilly when the fenghuang climbed higher into the sky. His ears tingled so bad, he wished they'd fall off already. The fresh scars on his face and neck hurt even worse. I should have gone to the faeries, he thought, and the chill shot to his core.

Zijun was right, more than a mere superstition kept him away from the faery priestesses and their monasteries. He was afraid of what their insights may reveal about him, not pleased with her insights either, and could not do anything about it. Being cold was easier to fix. Xi buried his face in the golden plumage and took a careful breath in: the magic bird looked magnificent, but smelled like a plebeian chicken.

Immediately warm, Xi sighed contentedly. The uncomfortable pulses of doubt gave way to the steadier mind-rhythm. Normally, he resented his small stature, but submerging himself in the down feathers while the world rushed by was a sublime experience. Maybe the greedy demands of magic stunted his growth for a reason.

"She wanted you to marry her, silly." The bird's voice drifted to him over the whistle of the wind. It sounded hoarser than when she spoke in his mind, and woke him up from a semi-doze. His mind went back to circling fruitlessly through the memories of his conversation with Zijun.

Xi spat out a few precious feathers, each one — a work of art and yelled back as well, instead of using the mind-bond. "What do I need a wife for when I have you picking over my thoughts as if it were your feathers, Fenghuang?"

"Pfft, you are not the darkest of enigmas, Xi. Ancestors, I fought to ignore your navel-gazing! Now that I've given you the answer, will you please think of something else?"

I did, Xi wanted to say, but let it slide. A wise man does not argue with his magic bird while riding her just below the clouds.

Instead of bickering, he sifted through his memories, forced them away from the argument he could do nothing about. Instead, he went back to the day when his mother's figurine appeared on the corner of Rustam's magic map and what waited at the end of their journey.

The likeness of his mother formed out of the puddle of fresh wax and marched to the map's edge where the Empire's borders faded out, too far away to be understood even by his former Master. There, it parked itself in the border city of Tarkan. Xi spent days agonizing over the figurine's stubborn immobility.

He even nudged it with his finger, hoping unreasonably that maybe the map malfunctioned, maybe the figurine was stuck as if it were made of a non-magic wax. It did not help. His mother's face, tiny and enigmatic was turned towards South and East, towards him, but she stayed put.

To his relief, he had no trepidations. He had conquered his anguish over his mother's plight in Tarkan, he was on his way to her, he was doing something about it. There was no reason to think about till he got there.

His mind veered right back to Zijun, to the torment of their unfinished business, to his guilt.

"Why would Zijun want me as her husband? As a mage, I will be long-lived and will not father offspring." Xi paused for a bit after saying it, but Fenghuang kept silent, pointedly so.

"The famous courtesans in Sutao sing her compositions about jade-poets and rain-cloud love. Master Jiang told me, 'you have acquired a sufficient skill for a gentleman, Xi, no further training in poetry is necessary'. She'd look for a man of greater artistic sensitivity."

The bird's heartbeat quickened as it darted forward. "I am the Bird of Prophecy, beloved. My hsin is similar to a mage's in that my thoughts feed on my emotions in search of clarity. I perceive what is happening, but to dwell on a woman's poetry? Do not ask this of me, Xi."

Beloved used to be a joke when both of them were called 'fenghuang', but now an uncomfortable feeling made Xi change the topic again. "Are we there yet? Can I see what you see?" The awkwardness would go away once their bond is restored to the fullest, once they could see as one, out of her crystalline eyes. Or at least he fervently hoped so.

There was little to warn him that he was now seeing what the bird saw, a transition no more painless than opening his eyes under water. Together, they searched for the Imperial party on its approach to Sutao, as Rustam had asked. It is important that your grandmother stays in power, he'd said. The Empire could not afford factions forming at court, not with the demons coming. We do not have time for Han Yun to replace her as the power behind the throne.

Xi agreed with Rustam. The coup d'etat would be disastrous from the political standpoint, even if he turned his back on his grandmother. That's why he was coasting around the capital, despite wanting to reach Tarkan as fast as Fenghuang could fly.

The fenghuang left the beautiful landscape of forested hills with the first carmine strokes of maples along the valleys to bring them over the Imperial highway. As one, with the birds' eyes, they looked for a lull between towns and villages.

What they expected to see, the attempt to capture the Empress, would not take place on a busy section of the road.

When the Imperial party came into view, there was no mistaking it for anything else. The scarlet and black banners rippled like wings over the long snake moving towards Sutao. And each scale on it was a rider. Fenghuang made circles over the scores of the shiny warriors, snorting at the mounts. "I am glad I talked you out of riding a horse, Xi. I'd grow dizzy staying at a dumb beast's pace."

"I do not wish to ride you as if you were a mere dumb beast, except when in a dire need," Xi said.

"Oh, ride me as a bride you'll never have then," the bird retorted.

Xi swallowed his irritation. What ill spirit had gotten into her today? She is just like Zijun. Their friendship was long and harmonious. The very day Rustam had taken his name, Fenghuang had come to console him. She shared her name with him as the bonded birds did for other apprentices, even if she was a magic entity, sentient and proud. Maybe here was the cause.

"I do not share in your name any longer," he whispered to the bird, "but it does not change my devotion to you."

The bird called him silly again, and they flew on in silence watching for the signs of trouble below.

The cavalcade continued on, and he picked out the familiar figure of Master Shan Jiang in his voluminous robes. The outfit defied the current fashion by necessity: the historian's girth had increased even more since they had last seen one another.

By contrast, Xi's grandmother, the Ageless Empress, was as dainty as ever. Maybe the magic is innocent of stealing height and the breadth of shoulders from me, Xi thought with a sigh. If that was true, his grandmother had generously compensated him for his shortcomings in other areas. He wanted for nothing... if anything he should be more loyal to his grandmother than to his run-away mother. But the Empress, Chen Guang, always sent shivers down his spine, while the mere mention of his mother's name filled him with heart ache.

"Xi, focus," Fenghuang called out.

He sighed and squinted, trying to pick out familiar faces in the Emperor's retinue to keep his thoughts from wandering.

In addition to Shan Jiang, it was easy to recognize one of the Emperor's five sworn knights, Zhenshi the Younger. The man had the height and breadth of shoulders to make far bigger men than Xi envious. He towered over everyone on horseback, also flaunting the fashion, as he favoured the riding clothes in the style of the nomads, in addition to famously riding and shooting like one.

Conspicuous by his absence was the Benevolent Emperor himself.

The Son of Heavens used to ride a fiery horse at the front of his troops in Master Jiang's tales, but those days were long gone. The procession inched forward adjusting itself to the pace suitable for an invalid secreted inside the gilded palanquin.

The bird's fast heart throbbed where his breast pressed against her feathers. Her crystalline eyes did not tire, but her mind resented the uneventful hours of stalking. "I hope we are not following them all the way back to Sutao. We've just left Sutao this morning," she complained.

Xi mumbled his assent, but they stayed with the column. He owed his grandmother this much. Perhaps, Rustam was mistaken, and the danger—

The bird's breath caught in unison with his, when the middle of the convoy-snake imploded onto itself, got inflated with the soldiers swarming up towards the palanquin.

Fenghuang dropped as low as she could without revealing her true size to those on the ground. She could have risked descending more, Xi thought, because nobody was looking up.

Lord Zhenshi, with a handful of men, tightened a defensive circle around the Emperor, against the rest of the column. He menaced the traitors with a mace so large that Xi could count the spikes on its heavy head from their cloud-height.

The Ageless Empress lifted her hand and slipped from the horse with the grace that belied her years. She'd never once glanced at the sky. Either she had nerves of steel, or Rustam had promised her that Xi would be there, and she trusted the word of a mage implicitly. Xi did not know which one he should admire more.

A man came out of the knot of the traitors, gesticulating gracefully at the Benevolent Empress. He did point to Heavens, and Xi instinctively curled up in a smaller ball on the fenghuang's back, as if it mattered. The illustrious Lord Han Yun, I presume, Xi thought, the earthly father of out Benevolent Emperor.

His grandmother listened to the man, her perennial rival for the position of the Chancellor of the Evershining Empire, with a patient tilt of her head.

She said something short, and also pointed to Heavens. Again, no one looked up, too preoccupied with what was unfolding in front of them: the Empress prostrated herself before her husband's litter.

The Emperor could not afford being seen denied by his subjects, so she put on a show of surrendering herself to the rebels' judgement to keep the peace. She was back on her feet like a spooked cat, but bowed to her accusers with less alacrity, as the courtly ritual unfolded without harassment.

It was a good sign in Xi's eyes, that they still respected her station, as the Empress at least, if not the Chancellor, even when their hatred was in apogee, and their nerves frayed.

Another pause -- and the Empress walked to the roadside, to a large tree as if she was to rest in its shade, not hanged for leading the Emperor astray with her evil influence.

"Now," Xi said needlessly, as the magic bird dove headlong towards the ground.

Xi wished he stood among those crowding the roadside, so he could see the gigantic winged shadow fall over him, be blinded by the fenghuang's aura when she landed between the Empress and the tree. The turf went flying where the great talons gripped the land for purchase, and the great oak swayed buffeted by the beat of her wings.

Those closest to the bird were thrown down, others went to their knees of their own volition. Fewer fenghuangs lit up the sky every year. Xi was privileged to bask in her glory nearly every day. Or, as was the case just now, hung to her for dear life. The momentum after the abrupt stop carried him forward, threatening to toss him over the mighty wings. It would not help matters if he tumbled down the mountain of glowing feathers to splatter by the Ageless Empress' feet like an overripe plum.

And she was on her feet already, he noticed without much surprise. That his grandmother's silks hid steel, both of spirit and body, was evident even on the unpropitious days.

Today she was fighting for her survival, and she would not succumb to weakness if her every bone was broken, or a Celestial descended on a dragon-drawn chariot from Heavens to pronounce their judgment.

She did not have a Celestial at her disposal, only them: the fenghuang that barely lost her chick-fuzz and the newly tested sixteenth war mage.

The Ageless Empress straightened up, prepared to play her part in the rescue.

Once his innards stopped rolling around his stomach cavity, Xi groggily slipped down Fenghuang's back. At least the wind she caused died down. He landed in a passable crouch. Nobody fell to their knees and started weeping for his return to the solid ground, not that he hoped for accolades. On the opposite, they intended for the bird's glow to conceal him from the onlookers. It was to be her grandeur alone that the world would perceive, and admire.

You are splendid, he told Fenghuang, this time through the mind bond, in their own private way.

She did not acknowledge the compliment, but the glow intensified so much that even Xi's eyes accustomed to her glamour watered. No wonder the soldiers shielded their eyes and stopped hiding tears streaming down their cheeks. The Herald of the Heavenly Mandate descended among them.

Are you ready? Fenghuang asked.

Yes, my enigma.

In a gathering this large there were bound to be a few who could comprehend the Bird of Prophecy. The fenghuang chose the words to match her appearance for once.

"I am the Bird of Prophecy, my ancestors fed by the hand of the Celestials. I am the Herald of their will. The Empress is my champion, and the Mandate of Heavens rests with her. Who are you to say otherwise!"

Those who did not understand the words heard the primal sound of power, the same one that permeates the voices of the greatest predators, an eagle-call, but multiplied a thousand-fold.

Those who could understand the Bird of Prophecy, and could speak through chattering teeth, repeated her words in Shen.

For those still clueless, Fenghuang showed the full span of her wings, similar to a peacock showing off its tail.

At the same time, Xi sank his fingers into the soil, on both sides of a jade hairpin.

His understanding was perfect, but for one thing. The soil must move in such a way that the Emperor and the tiny cluster of the loyalists remained standing.

He looked, checking every angle, every number in his mind, enjoying the full cohesion. Then he let the unified design unfold, and with it, of course, came the predictable side-effect.

The waves started at his shaking fingertips. They circled around Fenghuang, and around the Empress, who he could not see, but trusted to shelter within the great arch of the golden wings.

The energy he conjured broke to the surface, made the dirt move like storm-waves, throwing the still standing traitors to the ground.

More tremors, stronger and more violent, followed the path he traced. The fallen flew upwards or sideways. Once they've landed, the unseen wave started at his right hand. This one shattered bones, burst the eardrums and ruptured blood vessels.

He opened the floodgates, and the blood he released watered the soil he plowed.

Xi wished he could scream in triumph. He breathed out instead, slowly, slowly, smiling at the wiles of his own hsin. The emotions lay coiled, ready to shatter him, and the joy of achievement was no less dangerous than the sadness of an abandoned child, or the lover's frustrated desire.

In the silence that fell upon the roadside after the blast, Ageless Empress walked back towards her rightful place by the Emperor's side. She did not choose where to put her feet, stepping carefree on the still writhing bodies. Screams accompanied her passing instead of fanfare.

"My Empress," the conspirators's leader picked himself off the ground, but stayed on his knees. Xi could not see his grandmother's face, but the man's one belonged on a corpse. And for a good reason. The man did not need the Bird of Prophecy to know he was now doomed.

"Lord Zhenshi," the Empress said pleasantly, "take Lord Han Yun under arrest."

Xi pulled out the white jade hairpin and shinnied up the golden slope of the fenghuang's back. I loved it!

Don't let it go into your head, beloved, she cooed.

I am fine--

Let me set you down somewhere. I need to hunt, and you need to meditate.

Xi sighed. She was right. Being a mage meant being cautious, for he was alone. He wanted to find his mother, but if his foresight did not cheat him, he'd find trouble in Tarkan, and he had to be ready to face it, not emptied by magic.

Fenghuang landed far more gently on the open hillside that sloped gently to a stream below. There would be water and a village downstream to buy hot food in the evening.

I can't believe how stealthy you can be when you wish to, Xi thought as the bird took to the air again in search of prey.

Fenghuang's laughter faded from his mind and he rummaged his shoulder sack for sustenance. He was contemplating a rice cake in dismay when the true extent of what he had done caught up to him.

The moment of understanding was perfect, but the net of logic he'd woven so tightly to reach it, required more effort now than he could afford. He should have let go of it gently, bit by bit, now the whole of it slipped off like a row from the knitting needle, and started unravelling at an alarming speed. The thoughts of Zijun, of his mother, of Rustam, of his test and of Fenghuang crowded in.

Xi forgot to bite into the unappetizing cake in his lap in his hurry to shore up the collapsing ceiling of logic. He started from the simplest rules, replacing chaos with order, and the world swirled away from him.