stared at Memnor,

but didn’t see him,

saw Atun’s horse falling,

Atun falling underneath,

the horse rolling—

Xau took a breath.

Came back to the tent

where King Memnor lay,

his neck red-bandaged.

Havnar, Memnor’s army commander,

sat on a stool by the bed,

holding Memnor’s hand.

“Atun fell,” said Xau.

“One of our guards.”

No more words in him.

“Xau dismounted,” said Havnar.

“Stood guard over Atun,

sword drawn

as if to fight off

Tahj’s army single-handed.

And then the horses came,

Tahj’s horses,

thundering toward us,

three thousand riderless horses.”

Standing over Atun’s body—

trying to see whether he was breathing—

blood running from Atun’s ear

down into his braided hair—

“I remember Atun. From the flood.”

Memnor’s voice gentle. “He’s dead then?”

Xau nodded.

A pause.

Memnor and Havnar both watching him.

After a time, Havnar said,

“Tahj’s men broke. A rout.”

“An inspired move,” said Memnor,

“using Tahj’s horses.”

Xau took a breath, looked at him.

“We didn’t plan it.”

Didn’t plan it,

didn’t ask the horses to charge,

a charge that might have trampled

Memnor’s soldiers as easily as Tahj’s,

save that the horses had swerved

to avoid the men—

Had Xau willed that?—

He didn’t remember—

only the horse rolling—

Atun underneath—

Xau took a breath.

Came back to the tent.

To what he had to do next.

“Excuse us.” Xau bowed. Left the tent.

Atun had written to his sisters

twice a year.

They’d ridden to the city

for his letters,

paid someone to read them aloud.

Xau’s turn to write,

to send a letter to accompany

Atun’s sword, his silver armbands.

COLLABORATION

Orderly, disciplined, efficient,

the running of the Imperium.

People, property, livestock, land

tabulated, tracked, taxed.

The Emperor Tahj the public face

of a private partnership.

His power augmented by muttered rumors

of the beast behind his throne.

Any dissenters dispatched

to feed that beast’s nefarious needs.

(Remains returned on request,

damage doubling as deterrent.)

Tahj’s rule expedited and enforced

by the Imperial Envoys—

government ministers, officials,

army commanders, Tahj’s bodyguards—

bound to the beast’s thoughts,

yet acting on their own.

One hundred and fourteen men.

No women. Complicit, corrupt.

JOURNAL

Survived.

When the horses charged

I thought they’d kill me.

Earlier, I lost my spear,

stuck it in a horse’s flank,

horse ran off

and I nearly trod on a man

with a spear through his belly.

Took him for dead,

yanked the spear out and he fucking yelled.

Something I couldn’t understand.

A curse?

Asking for water?

Darien’s dead.

New orders from His Imperial Envoy:

we’re not to talk about who’s dead, how many.

He’s as fucking scared

as the rest of us. I saw him run.

Mislaid his pretty-boy in the retreat.

Good.

The boy was younger than Cas.

Never spoke.

Thought about Cas

when I was running from the horses.

How we’d climb the olive trees

and our maid would scream at us.

Thought battle would be easier,

second time round. Wrong.

The fucking horses charging.

That fucking man, looking right at me,