a sign (so Leong said) of healing.

Discomfort unimportant.

His deficiencies disastrous.

The monstrous beast unslain, unchecked,

still preying on others’ pain.

Clouds parted.

Sunlight woke snow to blue dazzle.

Xau squinted against the glare,

floundered on,

had been floundering

well before he set foot

on the dragon mountain,

since killing Cyrus,

a man who might have been his friend.

In a rush of heated air,

dropping out of cloud, the dragon—

Li, captain of Xau’s guards,

stepped between Xau

and the dragon’s black bulk.

Xau saw Li brace himself, weaponless,

willing to fight that immensity

barehanded,

a willingness that pierced Xau.

He didn’t deserve such loyalty.

Had erred. Had fallen short.

The dragon fixed her golden eyes on Li,

steam issuing from the black holes

of her nostrils.

“Your king is hurt.

I told you to shield him.”

“I failed.”

The dragon snorted explosively,

shaking snow from both men’s hair.

“At least you don’t offer

sniveling excuses.”

Xau moved to Li’s side.

“It was our fault, not Li’s.”

All of it his fault.

The monster. Tahj. Cyrus.

To have found no better way.

“Your fault?”

A darker gold in the dragon’s eyes.

“That you stand against Tahj and the beast?

That you forged an alliance opposing them?

That they would kill you for it?”

Xau set aside the sodden cold,

the fiery sting of his wound.

Shouldered what he’d done.

“Our fault. We killed a man

who did not merit death.”

“I’ve killed many. So?

Tell me what you did and why.”

The telling hard,

Xau shivering when he finished.

“Stop wallowing in guilt.”

She turned her head away, flamed,

snow vaporizing in a plume of steam,

the air round Xau flaring hot.

She swung her head back,

stared long at him.

“You did well enough.

You have a war to win. Men die.

Let’s get to work.”

She hunkered down,

wings hinging to her haunches.

“I and my sister dragons hold the mountains.

Any forces Tahj brings within our reach,

we will destroy. Beyond the mountains,

you fight without us.”

“Why?” asked Li.

“Why not fly to the monster’s lair?

How could they stop you?”

“My power is in these mountains.”

Her scales gleamed like glass,

like polished granite

in the slanting sunlight.

“Iron and ice, coal and fire.

I will not leave.”

Five hours then debating strategy

with one who’d hatched

fourteen hundred years ago,

wise, inhuman, ruthless.

Even she unable to offer more

than thin chances, contingencies.

At dusk, discussion done,

Xau bowed to the dragon.

“One thing more. Our eldest son. Keng.”

“Don’t beg for his life.

That I will not promise, even to you.”

Her breath ash.

“If you die,

if I deem him inadequate to be king,

I will kill him quickly.”

“We ask you to teach him—”

“Teach him?”

“Yes. Ready him to be king.

He is neither arrogant, nor grasping,

nor cruel, nor cowardly.

He is merely young.”

“Hah!” She laughed, a sound

like an anvil dropped on rock.

“He would not like my lessons.”