to camp for milking.”

“The horse lords milk sheep?”

The remainder of that afternoon

not in any of the tales

about Donal or Xau,

an afternoon of no consequence,

of shared mishaps and recalcitrant sheep,

both men larking around like boys.

KHAN

King Xau sat on a low chair

to the right of the Khan’s throne

in a tent so large a hundred people

might have slept in it:

the assembled horse lords

armed with bows, swords, daggers,

their long hair immaculately braided;

King Donal loomed on the Khan’s left;

Subetei—the Khan—

atop his silver throne,

gold armbands twisting

from his elbows to his wrists,

his yellow pants edged with fur.

Xau the one who’d summoned them.

Five days planning for a war

of which there was as yet no sign

beyond the dragon’s warning.

Yet Xau so certain war would come

that he had bent his will,

his army, his allies

to brace for it.

Much accomplished,

the hardest part left for last.

Only Li, captain of his guards,

standing stern beside him,

knew what Xau intended.

Subetei Khan straightened in his throne

as he came to the end of his summation.

“Half will join King Xau’s army now,

half next spring.”

Subetei looked at Xau. “Anything else?”

Xau nodded.

“If we ourself are absent,

or incapacitated,

we ask you to give command

of the joint armies to King Donal.”

“No. I will yield command

to you and only to you.”

If Xau had held any hope

of persuading Subetei,

he would have spoken to him,

alone, two nights ago.

He had none.

A risk to be taken instead,

a risk he had weighed

and accepted.

“Then,” said Xau, standing up,

“we challenge you for the Khanship.”

Chaos.

The lesser horse lords in uproar.

Horror on Subetei’s face,

Subetei who revered Xau,

who had pledged his men to fight

at Xau’s command.

Slowly Subetei stood up.

“If I must fight you,

then let it be to first blood,

no more.”

Xau bowed deeply to him.

Men backed away from them,

cleared space for the fight.

They drew their swords. Bowed.

“Now,” said Subetei,

advancing as he spoke,

Xau forced back,

blocking that first thrust,

then watching the line of Subetei’s body

as the Khan swiped for Xau’s off arm—

Xau stepped sideways,

no thought to it,

air from the sword’s motion

sliding cold past his arm.

No thought to it

as Xau turned to thrust

at Subetei’s abdomen.

Stopped himself.

Mid-thrust.

Stumbled backward—

he’d nearly skewered Subetei—

a valid move

but Xau determined

neither to cripple nor kill the Khan.

Off-balance, Xau parried.

The clashing weight of metal

jarred the length of his sword arm—

Subetei stronger than him—

Xau’s breath too fast,

sweat running down his body—

thousands of hours practicing

with his guards,

learning to inflict maximum damage

at minimum risk—

trying now, today, to render

the least damage he could—

Subetei feinted, tried for a downward cut—

Xau countered, barely in time,

fighting his reflexes—

Subetei lunged for Xau’s groin—