Frowning, Tai-shan held his ground. What was the other saying to him? Though the two-foot made no move to touch the dark unicorn, clearly he wanted Tai-shan to do something. Come, perhaps? Return to the palace, most likely. The young stallion took a few steps in that direction. Both the chon and his purple-plumes holding back the shifting crowd sighed in obvious relief.

“I beg you to pardon the commotion my presence here has caused,” Tai-shan offered. “I had no notion….”

The chon ignored him, already climbing back onto his conveyance. The brawny bearers crouched to lift it, when shouts halted them. Tai-shan turned to see several purple-plumes striding from the crowd into the open space before the chon. One dragged an elderly female roughly by one forelimb. Another two carried a heavy bundle between them. This they tossed with a clash onto the cobbles. Figurines of blackened skystuff spilled from the patterned falseskin. The dark unicorn recognized the old firemaker suddenly, along with her wares.

One of the purple-plumes knelt before the chon, speaking urgently. The ruler’s frown deepened as his eyes turned briefly to Tai-shan before coming to rest on the tangled heap of figurines. He barked an order, and a kneeling two-foot snatched one of the figures from the pile, held it up before his ruler’s gaze. This was one such as the dark unicorn had seen in the past: a hornless da’s head atop a two-foot’s frame, skewer and frayed vine grasped in the forepaws, crescent moonshape upon the breast.

Next, the kneeling purple-plume lifted one of the newer kind, the sort of figurine Tai-shan had not seen before today, with its unicorn’s head and tail, moon blaze upon the brow. The chon’s eyes widened. He snatched the new figurine from the kneeling purple-plumes and stared first at it, then at Tai-shan. With a cough of rage, the chon hurled the unicorn-headed figure onto the cobbles. Shoving his kneeling minion aside, he pulled other, similar figures from the heap. These, too, after a brief inspection, he cast down in disgust.

Murmurs ran through the crowd. The chon growled another order, and the elderly female was dragged before him. Uttering horrified cries, she collapsed at his feet, hiding her face with her forepaws. Brandishing one of the unicorn-headed figures, the chon stood over her, shouting. Tai-shan stared in astonishment, unable to follow the other’s tirade.

Onlookers shifted, rumbling, trying to push past the purple-plumes’ pointed staves as the chon grasped the old female’s falseskin and dragged her upright. She wailed and cowered. Impatiently, he shook her, as though demanding some reply. At her timid shriek, he flung her to the pavement once more. Outrage flared in the dark unicorn’s breast. Did these two-foots bear no respect for their elders? Was their leader allowed to abuse his people so?

“Tash! Apnor!” No, enough, he cried. “Homat!” Stop.

But the chon did not so much as turn his head. Once more, Tai-shan knew, the tumult of the milling, agitated throng had drowned out his voice. Desperately, he clattered across the cobbles to stand between the angry chon and the cowering firesmith. Another cheer rose from the crowd.

“Desist, I beg you,” the dark unicorn exclaimed. “How has this old one offended you?”

Eyes wide, the two-foot ruler fell back before Tai-shan—and the dark unicorn realized he had spoken in his own tongue, not the chon’s. Clearly, the other could not understand his words. Behind Tai-shan, the aged female wailed and wrung her forepaws. Gently, the dark unicorn bent to touch the old firesmith, hoping to reassure her—but with a shriek, she shrank away, lurched to her feet and, ducking under a purple-plume’s staff, disappeared into the crowd. More cheering. The astonished look upon the face of the chon changed rapidly to one of fury. His purple-plumes leaned against the surging, cheering throng, which had begun to chant alternately “Tai-shan!” and “Dai’chon!”

The chon roared orders, and purple-plumes dashed forward to surround the dark unicorn, their pointed staves braced and ready. Tai-shan wheeled to stare at them as shrieks of alarm and angry shouts rose from the crowd.

“Tash! ‘Omat!” the dark unicorn shouted at the chon through the deafening noise. “Call off your minions. I mean you no harm….”

Tai-shan’s skin twitched as something brushed his near flank. A similar sensation slithered about his throat. Vines! At the chon’s command, the purple-plumes were casting vines to ensnare him. With a whinny of disbelief, the dark unicorn reared. He kicked desperately at the two-foot holding the vine that encircled his hind heel. The kick knocked the other to the ground. The vine slackened. Tai-shan danced, and the cruel pressure against his pastern eased.

All at once, his head was jerked violently around. Three purple-plumes gripped the free end of the vine about his neck, using their combined weight to anchor him while another pair flung a second vine about his throat. It tightened suddenly, throttling him. Choking, unable to breathe, the dark unicorn lunged at the three purple-plumes nearest him. Two dropped their vine and managed to dodge, but the third, slower than his fellows, suffered a slash across the ribs. With a yell, he sprinted away, clutching his bleeding side.

Tai-shan shook his head vigorously, trying to slacken the remaining vine. He needed air! The purple-plumed pair held on, hauling on the vine to keep it taut. The dark unicorn ducked and lunged at them. They dodged. Others darted near and tossed another noose. Tai-shan reared, flailing, to keep them back. His limbs were growing numb. Coming down on all fours again, he staggered.

The crowd heaved, thundering wildly. The dark unicorn saw, but could not hear, the chon bellowing orders to his minions. One of the purple-plumes strode toward Tai-shan with forelimb cocked, his sharp-tipped staff held level with his ear. Shouts and shrill cries from the crowd all around. The dark unicorn realized dimly that the chon’s advancing minion meant to hurl the pointed staff at him. Black spots wandered across his vision. Weakly, he shied as the purple-plume’s forelimb tensed.

A shout from across the square halted the two-foot in his tracks. Whirling, he lowered his staff. The chon and the others also turned. The crowd began to stamp and cheer. Tai-shan spun unsteadily to behold the daïcha hastening down the cleared path, flanked by her own, smaller company of green-plumes. Though they bore no staves, slung from the middle of each dangled a flattened skewer.

For a sickening moment, the dark unicorn thought the two armed groups would clash—but then the daïcha signaled her own followers to a halt while she hastened on alone, her expression one of outrage and fear. Straining for breath, Tai-shan stumbled toward her drunkenly. The throng was ranting, screaming now, the chon continued to roar. The dark unicorn felt his limbs buckle, his knees strike the paving stones as the daïcha wrenched the still-taut vine from the purple-plumes’ grasp.

As from a great distance, Tai-shan heard her frantic cries, felt her nimble digits clawing at the vines cutting into his throat. He tried to speak, but could get no air. The world had grown very still and dark. All around him, the frenzied noise of the crowd diminished to a whisper. “Dai’chon! Tai-shan!” were the last sounds he heard.