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J ai rode at the head of his tribe, the leather of his saddle creaking, Navi snorting as she set the pace, tirelessly clomping on through the grasslands. Above, Winter’s shadow flitted, as she patrolled the tribe’s edges, watching the horizon for enemies.

It was near the end of a clear spring day, a week since he’d returned, with nary a cloud in the sky, the sun full and bright on Jai’s face. The warmth was strange upon his skin, and it felt almost odd to not let out a constant stream of mana to fight the bitter freeze of the mountains.

In that week back with his people, Jai had come to realise his stay among the Caelite had done more for him than reaching a higher level or allowing him to summon a High Council with the Caelite as his respected messengers. Down here, he was almost lightheaded in the thick air close to the ground, his body abuzz with energy – he felt he could run a mile full tilt without using his mana at all. The little majicking he had done since his blossoming had cost far less mana too, for it was pure as quicksilver, and it was a wonder to watch the mana turn from gold to the purest white as it dripped into his core.

His body, once wiry, was now rippling with muscle, with nary a pinch of fat. Such was the consequence of a diet of pure mana, got in great quantities from the mountaintop.

He was in the best condition of his life, and even if he had not noticed it immediately, the women of the tribe certainly had. Never before had Jai experienced the feminine whispers as he passed, followed by laughter that set his cheeks aflame. His soulbound hearing heard more than they needed about the shape of his buttocks and the furrows above his hips. It was embarrassing and flattering and, he had to admit, alluring.

But as much as he might be tempted, he knew these weren’t the women for him. There was only one on his mind, one that fuelled his dreams and his hope and heart.

He let them stare and giggle, and focused on what was crucial. For one thing, he knew he could not sustain this level of mana-fuelled euphoria, for down here on the ground, mana was precious once more. If he emptied his core in place of feed or sleep, it would take him the better part of a month to recover it on the Great Steppe.

No, it had been a return to sleep and solid food, both of which he had made the most of these last days. He’d got to bed each night with a protruding belly of curried khiro and sweet potato, his skin softened with the hot rosewater of his bath, his body clad in muslin and silk.

It was good to be khan. Even if he’d spent every waking hour that he was not on khiro-back, or on his own back in his bed, dealing with the affairs of state.

A literal thousand people sought audiences. Indeed, Feng had received at least a dozen requests from Meera alone, the first in the form of a note alongside the return of Jai’s diary, demanding to speak with her khan urgently, and privately. But there was time enough for him to tell her of his adventures for her memory keeping. There was more important work to do now, particularly in balancing the disparate elements of his khanship.

The Tainted and the Kidara were getting on well enough – knowing their rivals’ additional soldiers were all that kept them from being put to the fire and sword helped. But there were still disputes to settle, for which Feng had been invaluable, for he knew both cultures intimately.

Jai had been working his way through as much as he could before they reached their destination. Now he could see it in the distance. A block of rock, emergent from the land, as if a sheep’s knuckle had been tossed by the Mother on a board of green velvet. Its colour was a strange grey that gave the place its name, a grey that looked almost blue beneath the open sky.

Winter had spotted already a dozen tribes, all gathered at its base, taking advantage of the oases that surrounded it. Seeing through Winter’s eyes from the sky, it was like a great grey-dark pupil, surrounded by a turquoise moat of water, ringed by the trees and bamboo groves.

Legends told the Blue Mesa was the Mother’s iris, crying her endless tears for the warring of her children. She might have to cry a little longer. But at least her children might unite in common cause.

Already he could see the crisscrossed paths of their rival tribes’ passage, and the going was easier as they followed the beaten trails. Jai turned in his saddle as they approached. He had instructed his tribe to ride in full battle dress on this last day, and all bore the Kidaran colours emblazoned alongside flashes of their own.

It was a sight to behold, an army of five hundred warriors, riding at the head of a great moving herd of sleds, carriages and men, women and children.

Lai had been as good as her word, summoning the traders to meet them at the Blue Mesa. He’d emptied her stores of blue cloth, cladding his warriors in the colours of his house. Others had come in dribs and drabs, and Jai’s coffers had slowly emptied as he’d purchased weapons and leather armour for his army, such that all had at least a breastplate, helmet and blade.

His Small Council, the nobles and his advisers rode at their head, resplendent in the finery that befitted their houses. Jewels, beads, gold and silver flashed, and Jai knew that there could be no doubt among his rivals that his people was a true Great Tribe of the steppe, no matter what they said about the so-called Tainted among them.

A horn sounded ahead, followed by another, then another. Jai’s flag bearer responded, though Jai had little idea of what it meant. But soulwalking from Winter’s gaze above, he found a gap amid the dozen camps that crowded about the Blue Mesa. There, he aimed his tribe, such that they too could find their place amid the bounty of the oases, and reap the harvest therein.

‘Tighten up!’ Jai called out, his flag bearer signalling frantically, a horn in one hand, a flag in the other. ‘Backs straight, eyes bright! Remember who we are, the legacy we protect. Remember we are Kidara!’

The folk cheered, and Jai rode on, to where the fates of all the Sithia would be decided. To the High Council.