to head the government.

Returning to the invasion,

it was apparent from the outset

that even if the Imperial capital fell,

even if Tahj himself were killed,

we could not hold Sumbral

without popular consent.

Such consent not unthinkable.

Tahj ruled through fear rather than acclaim,

whereas King Xau’s reputation

had acquired near-mythic proportions

in Sumbral despite Tahj’s efforts.

The tale of King Xau returning the ashes

of his would-be assassins

to their fathers

was eclipsed only by the tale

of how he rode into fire

to save Prince Cyrus’s men—

Cyrus’s men.

We didn’t find out until much later.

Forty men—

Xau would have, the king would have,

would have....

[Archivist’s note: Tahj had tortured

to death forty of Cyrus’s soldiers

for refusing to denounce King Xau.

Recalling this, Artoch became confused.

I came back the following day.]

The decision to invade Sumbral?

Indeed. It took five weeks

from the failure of the negotiations

to assemble the combined armies

of Meqing, Innis, and Ritany

near the Sumbrese border.

On the thirty-fifth day,

the army advanced into Sumbral.

MARCH

Break camp, march, make camp,

eat, sleep, break camp, march.

The baggage wagons rolled,

the foot soldiers marched,

King Donal and King Memnor

rode with their cavalry,

Subetei and his horse warriors

scouted the countryside.

King Xau went on foot

as much as he could,

working to strengthen his leg,

the soldiers around him

laden with packs and weapons,

Xau limping along with a stick.

After three weeks

Xau could walk an hour,

ride an hour, walk another hour,

alternating until the army

halted for the night.

Gradually the foot soldiers

relaxed from respectful diffidence

to open fondness,

offered him hoarded treats

of honey, nuts, dried fruit;

shared every wholesome joke they knew

and a few obscene ones.

High overhead,

higher than any arrow’s flight,

tracking their progress: vultures,

the prying eyes of the enemy,

the birds bound by the beast.

Break camp, march, make camp,

eat, sleep, break camp,

march the river road

to the Imperial capital.

(Not the shortest route,

but the easiest for resupply,

the army seizing each riverside stronghold,

little skirmishing beyond that.)

By day, Xau’s mood

boosted by the soldiers,

by Donal, by his guards.

Harder at camp.

Xau stared at maps

that yielded no answers,

or walked the wooden circuit

of the camp’s palisade.

He slept poorly,

troubled by his leg,

by doubts he did not share,

would wake before light

into a dimness brimmed with memory,

the old shadows and the new,

Atun, Dao, Shazia,

back and back to Tsung,

to Khyert, to his brothers.

Still dark when Xau

went out among the horses,

the smell, heat, breath of them.

His guards stayed by his side

as the horses came up to him,

two or three at a time,

inhaling his scent,

heads lowering at his touch.

That wordless communion.

Then in the half-light

he trained with the guards,

Li solicitous, patient, teaching him

how a lame man could fight.

Break camp, march, make camp,