GROWTH 
Messenger birds launched as one flock from the council platform. Black bodies studded the blue sky in a cloud of purpose. Then each dusky beak pointed towards its home tower, each left leg carrying three new Laws.
The city’s councilors watched them go. “Let this be enough.”
A junior councilor, still wearing her wingmarks proudly, murmured, “On their wings.”
The birds flew northwest from Naza, southeast to Bissel, and to all the towers between and beyond. They used the city’s winds to ease their passage. They flew past tiers where families gathered, waiting for news. Where mourning flags flew, new madder-dyed silks fluttering among faded rose rags.
More than half the kaviks crossed the city’s center, where the Spire, cracked and groaning in the wind, stood empty. Flaps and cackles broke the morning’s eerie silence as the birds diverted around the walled tower, avoiding its gates, its gaping mouth.
The kaviks bore the bone chips tied with spidersilk thread at their black ankles as their ancestors had, curling their claws against the clatter of bone chips. They made no comment except for a curious tilt when recipients lifted the cords from their legs. A caw for food, which was often slow to come. Puffed feathers as they listened to the new Laws, and the altered Laws, whispered, then sung. Kaviks remembered the words. They remembered everything: the Laws of this generation, the Laws of those that came before.
GROWTH
No tower may use scourweed to elevate their tiers above any other. No citizen may possess or store it, stem or seed.
SPIRE (revised)
None enter the Spire, night or day, unless council-sworn or with council-say.
ESCORT (new)
No Singer-marked or Singer-sworn may fly between towers unguided. They will their host towers abide and be cared for without complaint or reprisal. Wings they may borrow, but may not own, lest the city be again divided.