Enlai bowed with flamboyant flair

as Subetei Khan entered

amidst his wives, his brothers—

And—no, please no—King Xau—

King Xau looked over at Enlai,

the horror on Xau’s face

mirroring Enlai’s.

“Subetei Khan,” blurted Enlai,

“I thought, didn’t you say

I’d be performing my new work

just for your family?”

“You are.”

Subetei Khan gripped Xau’s arm.

“King Xau is my brother,

my blood brother.”

The king regained his composure

before Enlai, whose hands trembled

as he positioned his harp.

Enlai took two deep breaths, sang:

In deepest night, a leaping light

set trees ablaze, a direful sight.

To save his foes, King Xau he chose

to ride into the fire.

Enlai’s voice a trifle unsteady,

the harp rescuing him,

the notes flowing from his fingers,

pure and bright and clear.

Intoxicating, that first moment

he knew the audience was his,

following every word, every note,

Subetei nodding in time.

His men would burn, Prince Cyrus feared.

The flames neared, his horses reared.

Then through the smoke, the king appeared,

his captain at his side.

Uncanny skill and strength of will

let King Xau hold the horses still.

Onto their backs the men they leapt,

through the woods the fire swept.

The audience Enlai’s, except for the king.

Xau too still, too stiffly straight,

his smile a polite pretense.

Xau hated being cast as a hero.

Once Enlai would have delighted

in the king’s disguised discomfort.

Now, since Sumbral, it dismayed him.

He set his misgivings aside. Sang.

His foes all saved from danger dire,

the king fell down amid the fire.

The captain rushed to aid his sire,

and bore him from the flame.

Subetei and his brothers and his wives

and his cousins and his children

stamped and roared their approval,

leaned forward for the next song.

Enlai sang himself hoarse,

sang five ballads in praise of Xau,

three in praise of the horse lords,

two love songs, four comic chanties.

When it was all over,

when he was putting his harp away,

the king approached him.

“Your Majesty. I, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be.” Xau bowed to him.

“This is what you were born to do.

We are glad you are better.

How is Shira?”

They chatted briefly,

nothing of great consequence.

Curious how deflated Enlai felt

when the Khan reclaimed Xau.

THE IMPERIUM

In the fifth year of his reign,

Tahj, King of Sumbral,

proclaimed himself Emperor Absolute,

ruler of every man, every woman

beneath the eye of the sun.

(Behind Tahj, hidden, a beast

who preyed on others’ pain;

a beast whose touch

bound men like puppets.)

As the days shortened,

five kingdoms fell

without a single battle fought,

fell to the Imperium,

fell to evil.

One king yielded

out of avarice and ambition,

pledged slaves and soldiers

for private gain and public power,

a princeship second to the emperor.

Two kings yielded out of fear,

burying shame beneath Tahj’s banner.

Two spurned Tahj’s overtures.

Both speedily assassinated.

Their heirs complicit and corrupt,

in secret league with the beast,