and gave a curious choking gasp—

Xau’s eyes wide—

hand clamped white on the horse—

the horse snorting—

Atun reaching for the king

as the king screamed, “Kuan! Kuan!”

∗

A word, a name thrown like a spear,

hurled by the king whom men held dear,

the monster stricken in his cave

as King Xau fought to loose a slave.

Linked to the horse, its ears, its eyes,

the monster saw and heard Xau’s cries.

Grappled, struggled, then darkness fell;

broken the bond, undone his spell.

The horse cut clear, its freedom won,

the monster’s precious plans unspun;

his prey escaped beyond his grasp,

the strings unfastened from his clasp.

∗

Atun caught the king

as Xau’s knees buckled,

hoisted him in his arms—

only the other guards in sight—

no hint as to what had befallen Xau—

“Wen Xun, fetch Leong and the captain.

Shuen, take the horse away.”

“Cruel. Not here. Not the horse,” said Xau,

mumbling, making no sense.

“Easy there,” said Atun,

willing reassurance into his voice,

a reassurance that was a lie.

Atun unmoored.

An enemy he could have fought,

but this? A seizure? A madness?

Helpless, he held his king.

“Like the demon,” said Xau,

“but more human. Cruel.”

The king met Atun’s gaze.

“Set us down. We are not crazed.”

Atun lowered the king,

and Xau, too pale,

leaned on him heavily.

“The horse. Kuan,” said Xau.

“Kuan was... haunted?

Perhaps the first move

by our enemy.”

Darkness then in the king’s eyes,

shadows of what he’d faced

before Atun joined his service.

Demons, dragons, the risen dead.

Atun knew in that moment

the gripping terror

of a child’s nightmares,

but he stood his ground,

steadied his king,

his king whom he would shield

at any cost.

SPY

Enlai busied himself with his harp,

checking the pitch of each string.

His performance had, predictably,

been a triumph—

the palace staff lapping up

every paean praising King Xau,

though the king himself had pointedly

declined to attend.

So why had Xau requested

a private audience?

The hall’s great doors swung open

and the king entered,

flanked by three guards

and his senior advisor.

“Your Majesty.”

Enlai bowed with an elaborate flourish

he’d copied from the Ulixians.

“Master Enlai.”

Xau bowed hastily.

“You speak Sumbrese?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.

I spent a year in Sumbral

studying zither and setar.”

“We would like you to return there.”

Enlai frowned before he caught himself. “Why?”

“We would appreciate your assessment

of the country, especially anything

that appears out of the ordinary.”

“You wish me to spy for you?”

“No—” said Artoch, the king’s advisor.

“Yes—” said Xau.

Artoch continued smoothly,

“The term ‘spy’ has negative connotations.

There is no need for secrecy,

a minstrel may hear rumors

merely in the course of his travels.”

Enlai looked from Artoch to Xau.

“Though honored,

I confess I am surprised

that you would pick me.”

“You are not the only person

we are asking,” said Xau.

“Oh.” Enlai sniffed.

“And what type of rumors