He kisses her, tastes her,

tries to be slow, to be gentle,

but he is neither.

Hana pushes him onto his back,

rides him on that brief wild gallop;

she is not gentle either.

Afterward, he doesn’t promise

to come back safely,

only tells her he loves her.

Easy then to lie,

to say she loves him.

But she does not say it.

If he comes back,

if they are given time,

he is a man she might love.

If he does not return,

maybe she will wish

that she had lied.

REMEMBRANCE

In his doubled role

as both king’s guard

and king’s field surgeon,

Leong watched King Xau as they rode—

watched Artoch and the generals

ride up to confer with him:

a debate that lasted all morning,

through the midday break,

well into the afternoon;

watched Xau, who usually said little,

say less and less;

watched Xau finally dismiss

the others to ride alone.

Too thin. Too pale.

Still afflicted by the remnants

of the assassins’ poison.

Leong brought his mare alongside Xau.

“Are you in pain? Nauseated?”

“The same as yesterday.”

A pause. “Thank you, Leong.”

The clatter of hooves

on the stone road.

A horse neighing ahead of them.

Xau said, “We were thinking

of Dao and Chong.”

The guards killed

by the same assassins

who had poisoned Xau.

Chong cut down before

he’d even drawn his sword.

Leong said quietly,

“Dao was born near here.”

Xau nodded. “In Weizhou.”

Three sparrows foraged

in the dry grass

off to their left.

Xau and Leong silent.

PROPHECY

“You lied,” spat King Vihaz,

entering with his soldiers.

“The assassins failed me.

You failed me. Xau lives.”

Mehev, soothsayer, knelt, shaking,

pressed his forehead to the floor.

Fading daylight slanted across

the tiles an inch below his nose.

Mehev’s mouth had dried up

so he could scarcely swallow,

but his tongue babbled away,

seeking to placate the king—

“Not, not for long, Your Majesty.

As the sun sets outside,

so King Xau’s day is surely ending.

I, I received a message.”

“A message? What powers spoke to you?”

A catch of eagerness in the king’s voice.

Perhaps the fragrant agarwood incense

had stilled Vihaz’s anger.

Mehev lifted his head a fraction.

He stared at the king’s sandals,

heavily embroidered with gold.

“Who can name the powers? I cannot.”

...that was because the message

hadn’t come from the powers beyond,

but in the morning mail, unsigned,

a sage leaf embedded in the paper.

He had received such notes before,

four times, the startling accuracy

of their predictions instrumental

in establishing his reputation.

“What did the powers say? Tell me.”

Mehev raised his head enough

to gaze on the king’s oiled knees,

raised his head further still

and dared to look on Vihaz’s face.

“That if you lead your army

into the Shahness Mountains,

the hundred dragons of Sumbral

will fly to meet you.”

The king flung back his head

and laughed in open delight.

“As they did for King Nariz!