Leong finished bandaging Xau.

“Thank you, Leong.”

Xau started to sit up,

but Leong laid a hand on his chest,

said gently, “Rest.”

Moved over to examine Wen Xun.

INSIDE THE TENT

Seven men in King Xau’s tent

on the morning after the battle,

the king and five of his guards

injured, resting, the king mostly quiet,

lying on a blanket on the ground

while his guards chatted.

The seventh man, Li,

captain of King Xau’s guards,

checked bowstrings, oiled swords,

cleaned armor, his thoughts jumping

from one difficulty to another.

That Xau was hurt.

That Li had only himself

and two other guards

well enough to stand watch outside.

That one of those two, Leong,

was busy in the surgeons’ tents—

Footsteps approached.

Li on his feet between Xau

and the tent’s entrance

when Shuen announced Havnar,

the commander of King Memnor’s army.

Xau pushed himself to a sitting position.

Li didn’t speak Ritan,

didn’t understand what the two men said,

heard Havnar’s urgency,

the careful evenness of Xau’s voice,

the king in pain, measuring out his words.

Havnar left.

Li went to Xau:

“What did Havnar want?”

“Our help. Tahj’s army is breaking camp.

Three nearby towns they might take.”

Xau lay back down, his breathing ragged.

Li said quietly, “You cannot fight.

You cannot even sit a horse.

You can barely sit.”

Xau half-smiled.

“It’s all right, Li.

We promise to stay here.

In the tent.”

Li stared,

touched Xau’s forehead (unfevered),

Xau’s compliance more alarming

than if the king had stood up

and attempted to put on his armor.

“Do you feel worse? Should I call Leong?”

“No. We are not dying.”

Xau shifted where he lay,

reaching to clutch at his leg.

“We have an idea.

We will try to call Tahj’s horses to us.”

“Tahj’s horses?” asked Wen Xun.

“You took his horses already,

three thousand horses—

are there reinforcements?”

“Not his warhorses. The others.

Packhorses. Cart horses.

Mules. If they will come.”

∗

Li sat cross-legged on the ground,

watching over the king,

the king’s eyes shut.

The other guards quiet, still.

The rough catch of the king’s breath

the only sound from within the tent.

Outside, a barrel rolled over stones,

one man laughed, another swore.

Twice Xau opened his eyes,

an easing in his face

when he saw Li beside him.

Li sat, silent.

A long road to this tent,

Li’s father a fisherman.

From boats and nets and bait

and the run of the water

to sword and bow and shield,

the capital, the palace,

this man.

The king shivered, looked for Li again.

Li wrapped a blanket round him,

laid a hand on the king’s arm.

Sat.

Outside,

in the sunlit day,

a sudden clamor, men shouting,

running, cheering, horses neighing.

Tahj’s horses had come.

Later, Li would hear the story:

how the horses turned about

in their tracks;

how they headed for Xau

laden with panniers, dragging carts;

how aging draft horses galloped like foals

in their eagerness;