would I be fishing for?”

“War preparations.”

The king’s gaze on him,

straightforward, direct.

“If we’re correct,

it may be dangerous.”

Well then, danger, war,

no doubt discomfort too,

and Enlai very attached

to his own well-being.

Balanced against the risks,

the chance to earn the king’s favor.

Enlai weighed it up,

considered requesting concessions

in return for his consent

(perhaps a royal commission

for a major song-suite).

Tempting, but Enlai,

perceptive when he cared to be,

judged that he would receive more

from a man like Xau

if he demanded less.

“Very well,” said Enlai. “I’ll go.”

Xau bowed to him deeply. “Thank you.”

The king looked at him again,

an approval in that look

that unsettled Enlai,

that almost made him wish

to be worthy of it.

LOTUS MOON

Over hill, over river,

across the wide steppe

far came the wild horses,

unbroken, untamed,

to meet the scarred king.

On the sixth night

of their return to the horse country,

Atun, king’s guard,

followed King Xau onto the hill

where the wild horses waited.

A hundred horses or more,

among them a thin gray mare

who came right up to Atun,

just as she had done

during his last night duty.

And Atun wondered then

if the gray mare had chosen him,

but said nothing, his guess lying

too close to his heart’s wish

for him to trust it.

Next night, the mare sought Atun

and he spoke to her softly,

and he marked, too, how a black horse

went over to Shuen and nickered.

So Atun told the king his thoughts.

On the eighth night,

the night when the Lotus Moon

rode round and full in the summer sky,

all nine guards accompanied

King Xau to the wild horses.

And the gray mare went to Atun

and breathed warm in his ear,

and the black horse went to Shuen,

and a horse to each other guard,

and a colt with a white blaze to the king.

And King Xau looked at his guards

and his guards looked at him,

and each man set his hands

on the horse that had come to him

and jumped up onto its back.

Rode then the scarred king

and the nine guards

who shielded him,

closer than brothers,

raced through the grass—

Raced reckless and giddy,

grinning like boys,

the wind on their bare arms,

the horses beneath them

stretched into a gallop.

FIVE ARROWS

Amid the smell of wild thyme,

on a hilltop in the horse country,

sheep cropping the grass below him,

King Xau sat on an old felt rug

listening to his children

tell him stories.

“My turn!” said Suyin,

Xau’s youngest daughter.

“Two sisters and three brothers

met a huge fierce tiger.

The sisters wanted to fight it,

but their big brother wanted to hide,

and the other two brothers

wanted to run away—

I need six arrows for the next bit.”

Xau’s guard Atun,

one of the three guards on duty,

bowed very gravely to Suyin,