when she was pregnant with me? Xau!”

He made no answer.

He unbridled her horse.

He lifted the saddle off.

“Xau! Say something!”

He leaned his forehead against

the wooden stall partition, said,

quiet now, barely audible,

“Shazia died in childbirth.

We would keep you safe.”

Her anger emptied.

In its place,

something more complicated,

uncomfortable, that held her still,

watching this man, King Xau, her husband,

this king they sang about,

who’d killed a demon with his sword

then saved its servants with his touch;

who had risked his own life,

over and over,

in battle and earthquake and fire;

who had saved strangers,

enemies,

but had not been able

to save his first wife.

“You cannot keep me safe,”

she said, “but this risk is small,

and I will be careful.”

She went to him then,

while his guards and her guards

and the stablehands

watched the pair of them,

and her horse, Gerel,

munched a mouthful of hay.

Hana put her arms about Xau,

and he turned to hug her.

After a time,

he stepped back,

tacked up her horse for her,

and let her ride.

EXTRACTS FROM THE RECOLLECTIONS OF ARTOCH,
SENIOR ADVISOR TO KING XAU

The worst advice I ever gave King Xau?

Judged by what measure?

Had Xau heeded my advice

when he was sixteen,

he’d never have walked off

into the hills with that horse lord:

not one weapon between them,

not one soldier to protect them.

The rash foolishness of a boy

fed up with listening to old men.

Yet he returned, unhurt,

with eighteen hundred wild horses

and, equally significant,

with the unshakable loyalty

of the horse lords.

Was my advice therefore poor?

No. As Zhang told Xau,

good outcomes are not proof

of good decisions—

Zhang had been Xau’s tutor,

he knew the boy better

than the rest of us.

Zhang was, Zhang was—

I’m sorry—what was your question?

The boy? Xau?

Where is he? Where did the boy go?

Tell Tsung I need to see Xau—

[Archivist’s note: at this point Artoch became

increasingly confused. I returned the following

morning.]

The worst advice I ever gave Xau?

The question is ill-posed,

but if you will pour me a bowl of tea,

I will tell you of the time

I deliberately gave him

poor advice.

Thank you.

Xau was thirty years old,

widowed, remarried,

had spent the winter

attempting to reconcile his second wife,

Queen Hana, to life at court,

while simultaneously attempting

to reconcile his court

to life with his new queen.

A difficult few months.

Then that spring the king caught a cold

which settled in his lungs.

Three weeks in bed.

He was back on his feet,

almost himself again,

when he came to me to review

his appointments—

everything askew because of his illness:

meetings canceled,

certain trade negotiations stalled.

And I recommended that he take his family

and spend the entire summer

with the horse lords.

I believed his absence from court

would disadvantage Meqing,