For generations, rock doves had been farmed in the cities by those wishing to supllement their meager diet with a bit of meat. One master, enraged with a servant for keeping birds behind his back, ordered the birds to be thrown out of the city. When the birds faithfully returned to their home the next day, he decided to send them to the other side of the mountains and out in the desert. When they returned again, he saw a business opportunity in birds that could navigate over such a distance. While many question the sanity of a man who would send birds into the desert instead of just killing them, his actions led to more experimentation and research into these strange "homing birds".

One of the first "practical" uses of this ability was wagers between servants, and later, the rich who hired them. Bets were made both on wether a bird made the flight or not, and if it did, how fast.

Now, however, a wager had been made between the four richest citizens of the City of Ralawa. A race would be held, and the winner would receive from the losers a weight of gold equal to the weight of the bird submitted.

The four met on a mountain not too far from Hlamen, the capital of Arath. The birds would fly 500 kilometers, but even that great distance would be completed in less then a day.

Ri'molesh smiled to himself, as he viewed his competitors. While there was some doubt in the abilities of his champion bird, he had no doubt that he would be the one to win the gold.

"You seem confident," said Sanamthma, the sharp eyed women who had first proposed the race. "From that face, I'd say you were racing with a falcon and not some meat bird."

Ri'molesh was careful to keep his face from showing his immediate reaction. It's just banter, she doesn't know about the falcon. She CAN'T know about the falcon "Why would it matter what type of bird I'm racing? A 3 legged blind rat could beat that lump of feathers over there."

Sanamthma riased an eyebrow. "I guess we will find out the fate the stars wove for us soon enough."

Ri'molesh scoffed inwardly at that. The stars wove the future, yes, but a strong will could shape that future to his own desires. He WOULD NOT leave this race to the chance of the stars.

The four birds were lined up, each held by an attendant in preparation for the start of the competition. On each bird, there was a strip of colored cloth to denote the owner. These strips of cloth were Ri'molesh's idea, and the keystone to his plan. From the ground, it would be easy to tell by eye which one of the birds was winning. For a falcon in the air, there would be no issue at all.

After the wager had been made, months ago, Ri'molesh ordered several falcons specially trained to only go after birds with a specific color of cloth. As the four contestants had been given time to train rock doves from birth, Ri'molesh had had time to train his falcons to the point where they would go after their respective colors.

The four watched as the pigeons were released, all of them flying in the direction of Ralawa. Down below, a number of farmers looked up at the birds above, the battle between them worth more then the farmers would make in their entire lives.

Yannen watched as the birds approached. One had dissapeard entirely from view, and one was distinctly lagging behind, there were only two in the front. Yannen reached down beside him and opened the cage marked with the dangling yellow thread, the bird inside perked up, its black eyes shining in the light. Yannen watched as the bird took off, and began its circle far above. Although his master Ri'molesh might be certain his plan would work, Yannen had his doubts. Raptors were not dogs, to be bent to one's will. They were partners, and if their handler ever forgot that, there would be no warning before the sharp reminder.

The bird moved from a circle to a dive, and Yannen held his breath. As he made out the target of the dive was the leading bird, he let out a sigh of relief. The dive was slow, almost leisurely, but against a rock dove, it didn't matter.

The sound of an arrow cut through his sigh of relief, and Yannen watched as his falcon tumbled out of the sky. The falling of rocks alerted him to the presence of the archer walking down the mountain slope towards him. Yannen stood speechless, shocked as much that the plan had been found out as by the shot the archer had made, hitting the falcon mid dive.

The archer looked with contempt down at Yannen. "You and your master are fools. The stars spin their path for a reason. If you wish to change that, it should be through force of will and concentrated effort, not some backstabbing trick in the shadows." The archer tapped one of his calloused fingers on the side of his bow. "You city dwellers lose sight of the sky down in the streets. You stop moving, stop listening to what is right and what is wrong. You want power? The power of the settled is empty, the more you have the hungrier you get." The archer turned away, trudging back up the slope.

"I am giving you a second a chance. Your master will be sharing the fate of that falcon."