Jakri, at last, looked down into the expanse of the arena. It had been strewn about with fresh, slender branches from some coniferous tree, until there was hardly any bare ground to be seen, and the scent of them was strong enough to fill even the vast space of the Red Colosseum.

"Do they summon the dragon with a fire?" Jakri wondered aloud.

The old man next to him laughed, and turned to look at him with a toothless smile. "No, boy. Those are boughs of the Sacred Juniper. It's not a firepit, it's a nest. The dragons lay eggs high in the mountains, you see, and they make their nest-mounds from branches like these."

That made sense -- it was said that the dragon laid eggs that could be used to divine the future. This foreknowledge was supposed to be the reason for the prosperity of the Crimson Kingdom. He squinted at the other side of the Colosseum. Even from this distance, he could see people in gold-colored robes, gathering on a broad dais above the tiers.

"Are those the Royal Diviners?" he asked, excitedly.

The old man nodded. "The king's cabal of seers and astrologers -- they study the clouds, the movement of birds, and the stars, to get small glimpses of the future. But none of their portents are as clear or as certain as the Great Divination of the Dragon, of course."

"So, will the Diviners crack the eggs, after the dragon leaves? Read the future in the shape of the yolks, or something?" Jakri asked, uncertainly.

The old man gasped. "Mind your tongue, boy! The dragon eggs are sacred!"

Jakri held up his hands. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't know! I'm from the countryside. A village called Rimbel, on the outskirts of the kingdom."

"Ah," the old man said, nodding. He chuckled. "Well, here's some advice then: in the Crimson City, speaking to someone of broken dragon eggs is like swearing at them by the name of the Divine -- don't do it unless you're trying to start a fight."

Jakri nodded. Across the arena, he saw the king and his royal retinue, resplendent in robes of crimson and gold, taking their place on the dais just above the Diviners.

"Anyway, the Diviner's don't actually do much in the Great Divination. The sign of the dragon is simple." He held up two bony fingers. "She lays two eggs, which we will care for until the Harvest, when they hatch. One contains a red hatchling, and the other, a blue. Newborn dragons are savage creatures, and once they've both emerged, they will fight to the death."

Jakri gasped. "Really?"

"Yes! It's quite brutal, but nature often is. If the red dragon -- the dragon that bears the color of our kingdom -- prevails, then good fortune will follow in the year to come. If the blue dragon wins, however, the kingdom will be plagued by bad luck."

A roar went up from the crowd in the Colosseum. The old man tugged on Jakri's sleeve, and pointed up. His eyes went wide, and his mouth dropped open.

There she was, dropping down from the clouds -- the dragon. Her silvery, iridescent scales gleamed in the light, as she circled and descended, her vast membranous wings spread wide to catch the air. The horse-sized head at the end of her long serpentine neck was reptilian, and graced with short, antler-like horns, but her body reminded him more of a wildcat, lean and graceful.

He swore he could feel the wind from her beating wings, as she slowed and landed lightly in the center of the arena, amid the Sacred Juniper boughs. She lifted her regal head, and swept it around, her flashing eyes seeming to take in the crowd. She let out a roar, and tiny wisps of smoke puffed from her mouth and nostrils. Jakri shied back from the edge, but the old man just laughed.

"Don't worry, boy. She's just telling everyone to keep their distance, she won't attack us. Heh, she doesn't even see us a threat!" the man assured him.

And sure enough, after a moment, the immense creature settled down. She scraped the branches into a high mound in the center of the arena, then clambered atop it. There she writhed and thrashed for a moment, until she had half buried herself in the gigantic pile of Juniper. She settled again, and was silent. Jakri waited, tensely, watching her, ready to dive for cover despite the old man's assurances.

She reared up suddenly, and Jakri flinched, but the dragon just took straight to the sky. It was only when Jakri heard the old man's gasp, and the murmurs sweeping through the crowd, that he tore his eyes from the vanishing dragon.

Atop the mound of branches, sat three eggs.

"Three?" Jakri said.

"That...that's never happened before." the old man said. "Oh Divine...oh no..."

"What's wrong?" Jakri asked. "There will be three hatchlings that fight, instead of two?"

The old man turned to him. "The whole Divination is based on an eternal balance. Red and blue, good and evil, fair fortune and bad luck! If there are three dragons, there can be no balance!"

Across the Colosseum, he could see the red-robed shape of the agitated king, who'd gone down amongst the gold-clad diviners.

"Couldn't they just...uh..." Jakri hesitated, remembering how the old man had scolded him.

The man eyed him. "Ehhh...I don't see how. They're sacred. Besides, what if there are two eggs with blue dragons, and only one with red?"

A roar drew their attention back to the arena, but this time it game from a great horn, blown by a royal herald. The king stood on the dais with two heralds stood on either side of him, bearing bright banners held on the end of rods. The king spoke, and the two heralds spun their four two-sided banners this way and that at varying angles to relay his message, but Jakri had never learned the bannerspeech they employed.

Fortunately, the old man knew it, and translated for him.

"Fate has chosen...to forebear in deciding our..." the old man said, struggling to see the bannermen. He shook his head. "Sorry, my eyes aren't what they used to be. The king says that...to forestall the possibility of...something...a place far away...three shall be chosen to...do...by the divination of the feather."

The old man sighed. "Damn! Sorry, I'm not sure what that means."

"What's 'the divination of the feather'?" Jakri asked, curiously.

"One of the lesser methods of telling the future that the Diviners use." the old man replied, looking down at his feet thoughtfully. "If I remember right, they release certain special birds, with ribbons tied to their ankles, and by watching the movements of the ribbon and taking note of where the birds fly, the seers are supposed to receive clues about the best course of action to take in a particular."

"Birds like that one?" Jakri asked, pointing. The old man looked up, just in time to see a small finch with a slender silk ribbon tied to its leg abruptly swoop down and land on Jakri's extended finger.

"Whoa!" Jakri said, staring at the finch, which for its part simply chirped and ruffled its wings, despite the way Jakri had jumped when it landed on him, seeming to content to perch on the young man's finger indefinitely. He smiled at the bird. "Hi, little one. Any hints you can give me about the future? Or would I have to be a seer?"

The finch's only reply was a non-committal tweet, but from behind him, he heard a voice suddenly call out sharply. "You there!"

Both he and the old man turned to look behind them.

Two of the king's soldiers, dressed in red livery, were descending the steps towards them rapidly. Above them stood two Diviners.

"Come with us." the foremost soldier commanded him, sternly. "Your presence is required by your King."