as the woman repeated the procedure

with his fingernails.

The woman inspected Xau’s little finger,

prodded the bloodied tip,

placed a vise around the finger.

Tightened the vise slowly,

waited,

tightened it a fraction more,

waited, waited,

tightened it more—

Xau shouted as his finger broke,

begged when she moved the vise

to his next finger,

his voice a whimper, a child’s plea.

“Stop, please stop.”

“Are you ready to cooperate?”

“No.”

The woman reached for the vise.

Xau tried to think of Hana:

how she rode as if she

and her horse were one;

the feel of her against him.

He told himself this would end,

that he might see her again.

Could not hold any thought

once the vise tightened.

The world shrank

to his body’s breaking.

Whip, blade, brand, hammer,

the smell of burnt flesh,

his incremental emasculation.

Hour upon red hour.

Over and over the beast asked,

“Are you ready to cooperate?”

Over and over Xau refused.

Not bravely, not well.

He begged, sobbed, sniveled,

retched, pissed himself.

Yet he refused.

LAST WATCH

Li the first to reach the king—

Xau tied to an iron frame,

his body broken—

arms, legs, feet, fingers, ribs—

his groin a red ruin.

One breath to take it in

before Li bowed very deeply,

said, in case the king had not seen,

“The beast is dead.”

“The hostages?”

“Safe.”

Leong beside them then,

palpating Xau gently. Stopping.

“Xau.” Leong’s voice soft.

“You’re dying. You cannot live

with wounds like these.”

“We understand.”

Leong bowed, stepped back,

left Li alone beside the king.

Li touched the king’s forehead.

“If you wish, I will speed your death.”

“No.” The king’s eyes on his.

“Take us outside. Please.”

∗

In the bright, dry, desert air,

Li laid Xau down gently, carefully,

sat down cross-legged beside him,

helped him drink,

wiped his face clean.

The king struggled for air,

struggled to speak.

“Not your fault. This.

Do not blame yourself later.”

Li said nothing,

only set his hand on Xau’s forehead,

held it lightly there.

A long time before Xau spoke again.

“Li. Stay. Until.”

Li nodded.

A moment before he managed

to say the words he wished to say.

“Nowhere I would rather be.”

He sat beside his king

beneath the wide clear sky.

RETURN

Set aside your crown, King Xau,

that crown of war, alliances, duty.

Your strength is spent,

your deeds are done.

Rest a while and remember.

Return to the horse country,

that third summer, that sea of grass;

return to Hana’s people, moving, restless,

across the wide grasslands,

tents for their homes, horses for their wealth.

Return to the hills

where the wild horses waited under starlight

for you to come, night after night,

how you laid your hands on them,

breath mingling with theirs.

Return to the night of the Lotus Moon

when you rode bareback on the wild horses,

you and the nine men who shielded you,

closer than brothers;

you and the guards and the horses