on such and such dates.

Harder than usual for Siak

to banish his own thoughts.

Half his friends Sumbrese,

an attachment sustained

across years and miles

by a string of letters

in a language not his own,

a language he loved.

4. Artoch.

Artoch, Xau’s senior advisor,

had anticipated Tahj’s demands

in essence if not in detail,

had arrayed options for Xau,

predicted likely consequences.

None of which had swayed the king

from his initial position.

Xau usually moderate, measured,

but in this matter adamant.

Xau heard Cyrus out.

Declined Tahj’s demands.

Added the words that shifted war

from likelihood to near certainty:

“We require Tahj to kill the beast.”

Peace not always the correct path.

5. Keng.

Eager and curious,

Keng came at his father’s summons

to meet Prince Cyrus,

his uncle—

A heaviness in the air

of the audience chamber

as if thunder approached—

Keng bowed to Cyrus,

welcomed him in Sumbrese,

Keng’s mother’s language,

his mother whom he alone

of her four children

remembered clearly.

6. Cyrus.

The boy, Xau’s eldest son,

had Shazia’s eyes,

the lilt of her voice.

Cyrus startled enough to say

without weighing it:

“I hadn’t thought your father

would let you learn Sumbrese.”

“Mama taught me,

and a tutor since then.

We’re studying Sumbrese poetry,

which I like, and Sumbrese history,

which is difficult.”

Their remarks translated

for King Xau’s benefit,

Xau who laid his hand

on Keng’s shoulder, said softly,

“We do not wish him to forget

his mother’s language.”

Neither Xau’s words,

nor the boy’s eagerness,

nor the boy’s likeness to Shazia

should have mattered.

Cyrus’s resolve set a month ago

in the cave where the beast

tortured its victims.

His own sons, his own family

forfeit if he failed Tahj.

Therefore he must not fail.

He looked at the boy

and his resolve faltered.

He fought himself,

fought the words out,

“Tell your father I was sent

to kill him—”

—Guards seized Cyrus at Siak’s shout—

Cyrus kept talking,

his eyes on the boy:

“Tell him I will not hurt him,

that I remember how he rode

into fire

to save me and my men.”

The spring equinox,

light and dark in balance,

history hinging

not on battle but on a boy,

a boy who stood awkwardly

as his uncle wept.

LOGIC

The audience chamber sealed.

Inside: King Xau. His nine guards. His eldest son.

His senior advisor. A translator. Cyrus.

A table arrayed with tea, bowls, water;

the bowls untouched, the water cooling.

Time short, their options poor.

Fact: Tahj had sent his brother Cyrus

to obtain King Xau’s surrender.

Or Xau’s death.

Fact: Xau would not surrender to Tahj.

Fact: Cyrus’s family held hostage by Tahj.

Fact: Cyrus had betrayed Tahj,

had confessed to Xau.

The problem: to decide Cyrus’s fate.

Cyrus, past helping them,

hunched over in a chair,

head buried in his arms,

a guard on either side.

If Tahj thought Cyrus had betrayed him,

then Cyrus’s wives and children

would be tortured to death.