"Well son you missed the cristening of the snakestaff as well as the presentation of the colors- and the opening prayer- but at least you managed to make the parade," said sarcastically a smirking flame-red-clothed woman with scarlet lips and piercing brown eyes, with dark hair held tightly beneath a red viel whose tail fluttered in the strong wind that drove through the town square. "Honestly Mathonwy, where have you been?"
"I'm so sorry mother, but I went on the balconies for a breath of air, and then to the library, and one thing lead to another and-"
"And you wouldn't have had anything to do with that little incident outside?"
"Wha, what incident," stammered Mathonwy.
"Well you at least have the right idea about it. If you could do more than verbally hide your power, you would already be in the Emperor's court," said Mathonwy's mother, her eyes still gazing steadily at the parade of dancers and fire eaters and wheel performers, her son standing stiffly behind her.
Mathonwy replied, astonished, "You saw! I didn't have a choice- those people didn't know that an aerial intrance into the Citadel was illegal. They didn't understand why the wyrmriders were attacking, and they all would have been slaughtered by the archers if the fight had continued any longer."
"In that case I suppose I must let you off the hook. The high priestess sensed the power and saw some activity around the fight that she believes apparently incapacitated them, but she didn't have enough time to see you at least- or so she said. You did well to save those people. Now try not to worry about it anymore, and enjoy the parade."
"But mother what of my being late? Won't the Emperor-"
"Let me deal with him," she replied, finally turning her steady gaze to Mathonwy. "He won't be mad for long."
The tall youth of sixteen years garbed in blue, a most inappropriate color for the festival that won a few disaproving glances from much of the royalty seated around the Emperor whose viewing box dwealt one level above that of his concubines, in which his mother sat. Soon Mathonwy got lost in the spinning of the bodies stretched between bars within a great metallic ring, spinning and rolling about the streets in uniform precision, the blaze of the fire eaters, and the pound of the deep bellowing drums of the burly color gaurds ((flag bearing unit)) who by tradition wore only leggings and painted on their foreheads and chests the large crimson circle, symbol of Chama.
Suddenly a break in the sea of reds caught his eye; a group of tavelworn people along with a strange woman and a large bird passed a few streets back accross his field of vision. A man with furs...it was indeed the party and with them the man who would reveal his secret. Mathonwy's eyes opened, and he began to wonder just what exit he might be able to find if that man should come shouting down the street again.
