bringing back a part of his youth.

He stood, went to Donal, hugged him.

Xau nodded to an attendant.

“Bring King Donal his weapons,

a hot meal, wine, water....

Do you want anything else?”

“Vihaz’s head,” said Donal.

Xau sat down again, looked at his men.

“Leave us.”

Two guards stayed by the door,

but the other men left.

Donal sat down on the bench opposite Xau.

“For the first week, I thought

I was riding to your funeral.”

“Near enough,” said Xau.

Donal held Xau’s gaze long enough

to let Xau read in his face those things

that Rose (Donal’s woman)

would have had him say aloud.

Then Donal pulled the map over,

looked down at the mountain ranges

between Sumbral and Meqing,

the year-round passes marked in red,

the summer-only passes marked in blue.

The fort they were in had been circled,

and stood atop one of the passes.

“My troops are two weeks behind me,”

said Donal. “Will there be war?”

Xau shrugged.

“Vihaz is marshaling his army.

We are marshaling ours.”

“You think they’ll come over the mountains,

not round through Ritany?”

“We think so.

King Memnor has closed his border

to Vihaz, even to trade.”

Xau tapped the map,

traced the blue line

leading to the circled fort.

“We think they’ll take the Shahness Pass

right up to where we’re waiting.”

“Why?”

“The Hidden Queen wrote to us,” said Xau.

“She seemed certain of it.”

Xau stopped talking as attendants entered.

One handed Donal his weapons.

Others set out two empty bowls,

stew, broth, bread, rice, drink.

Donal heaped stew into a bowl.

Xau broke off a piece of bread,

scowled down at it

as if it were a conundrum

he couldn’t solve.

“What’s wrong?” asked Donal, mouth full of stew.

With his foot,

Xau pushed a pot out

from beneath the desk. “We eat.

And then half the time, we vomit.”

“I thought you were better.”

“We are getting better. Slowly.”

Xau dipped his bread in the broth,

took a small bite,

chewed determinedly

as if eating rancid meat.

Donal stared at Xau,

thought of questions

better left unvoiced,

and one he had to ask:

“Can you fight?”

“We can sit a horse in battle,” said Xau.

Years since they’d fought

on opposite sides,

but it wasn’t a thing

Donal would ever forget,

Xau leading his cavalry,

men and horses alike

following him

as if he were a godling,

and Donal’s own horses

refusing to lift a hoof against him.

A huge, unnatural advantage.

The captain of Xau’s guards,

Li, a man whom Donal had fought beside,

stirred in his position by the door.

In poorly accented Innish, the captain said,

“The king can ride, but cannot wield

shield or spear or sword.”

“Then you will ride on his right,”

said Donal, “and I will ride on his left.”

Li bowed to Donal.

“Thank you.”

Xau reached across the desk,

but stopped,

the gesture incomplete,

an inch short of Donal’s hand.

Donal gripped Xau’s hand firmly,