and at first it was fun,

handing them the envelopes

with money tucked inside,

feeling pleased with himself,

he, the young prince,

bringing them gifts.

But some men had missing ears,

or eyes, or a hand.

Some had no legs,

sat propped against the parapet.

Some of them smelt bad.

Some reached to touch his father

and his father stopped

and held their hands.

Some spoke to his father

and his father answered,

patiently, quietly,

and some, who’d said nothing,

his father spoke to anyhow.

Some of them looked at Keng

the way they looked at his father,

as if Keng were a hero,

and the more that happened,

the more uncomfortable Keng felt.

He bowed.

He gave out envelopes.

His feet hurt.

The moon moved across the sky.

The crowds below thinned.

One man reached not for his father

but for Keng,

reached with a wrinkled claw-hand

that lacked two fingers—

—Keng backed away, revolted.

The man pressed his fingers

to his forehead,

made the abject bow of a servant

who has displeased his master.

Keng stood, staring at the man,

thinking of war.

Not the way he had before,

not like a story.

Thought of men ending up

with no legs or no arms

because they’d fought for him.

One gulping breath,

thinking on that,

then Keng stepped forward,

took the man’s claw-hand

between his own hands,

a cold bony dryness.

“I’m sorry,” said Keng.

“Thank you for fighting for Meqing.”

He couldn’t think what else to say.

The man nodded to him,

not a bow this time, just a nod,

as if to a friend.

Keng nodded back,

followed after his father

who had turned to watch him.

His father said nothing,

only hugged Keng,

briefly,

there on the wall

above the city of Lipoh.

Then, together,

they walked the wall.

COAST

Salt wind whipped Hana’s hair,

she and Xau steadying each other

as they clambered over wet stones.

A fuming fury crashed onto rock.

Black-headed gulls rode the air

above the unwalled ocean.

No gold, no jewels,

no herd of horses

equal to this gift.

MONSTER: OPENING GAMBIT

The monster, neither brave nor bold,

had bided months and spent much gold.

Seven horses brought to his caves

where he transformed them into slaves.

His touch a trap that linked his mind

to any creature he would bind.

Those seven horses then resold;

the monster’s mark, his lair, untold.

And now, at last, the time drew near

to kill the king whom men held dear.

One horse of rare and precious breed

picked yesterday as King Xau’s steed.

That horse equipped with hidden sting,

for when the monster pulled its string

the horse would rear and throw the king,

trample the man into a thing.

∗

Atun, king’s guard, beamed

as he led Kuan, the new horse,

out of the stables to King Xau,

the chestnut stallion the fastest horse

either of them had ever seen.

Xau took the reins from Atun,

laid his free hand on Kuan’s withers—