the correct course of action,

and quite another to convince

those you counseled.

He took a sip of tea before he offered:

“A man will punish his gardener

for the single wilted flower

in an otherwise perfect display.”

“Meaning that the Sumbrese will be

so offended by our choice of translator

that they will ignore all else.”

“Very possibly.”

Artoch took another sip of tea.

“They will be insulted

that you chose a mere woman—”

“Hardly a mere woman! Our wife.

The daughter of their own king.

The person who headed our court

while we were away at war.”

Artoch studied his tea bowl,

the delicacy of the heron

painted on its side, flawless.

An awkward matter, this.

“The Sumbrese prince,” said Artoch,

“is likely to see only the insult.”

“The Sumbrese prince,” said Xau,

“should see that we hold his sister

in the highest esteem.”

“But the breaking of tradition—”

“Tradition!” Xau stood up

and paced rapidly

around Artoch’s office,

another inauspicious sign.

“We have spent three years

attempting to break certain traditions,

including the ancient tradition

of enmity with Sumbral.”

“A shame then,” said Artoch,

“to undo those efforts

with one misplaced gesture.”

Xau stopped by the tall window,

looked out into the sunlit courtyard.

After a short, strained silence

the set of his shoulders eased

and he turned to Artoch:

“Would the Sumbrese prince

take offense if his sister

is present at the negotiations,

provided she does not speak?”

“If she is silent,

if she stays in the background,

that should be acceptable.”

Xau walked over to the doorway,

paused. “Keep on annoying us.”

Artoch raised his eyebrows. “Your Majesty?”

“We have found that your most valuable advice

is usually the most annoying. Keep on.”

Artoch bowed then as the king left,

partly in respect and gratitude,

partly to hide the emotion

flushing his face.

An old man should not care about praise,

should have learned that a task

well executed is its own reward.

Artoch still had much to learn.

AFTERWARD

After the opening pleasantries,

after the exchange of gifts,

after the trade negotiations,

after the concluding pleasantries,

only then did Tahj, crown prince of Sumbral,

acknowledge the presence of his sister,

a mere woman.

Even then, he did not address Shazia,

but rather her husband, King Xau:

“I trust my sister pleases you.”

“Beyond words.”

“Good.” Tahj bowed.

“If you wish, Shazia could walk with you

in the Sunken Garden and introduce you

to our son.”

“Perhaps another time.” Tahj bowed again.

“When my nephew is a few years older,

I would be glad to meet him.”

Xau bowed back,

a fraction less deeply than usual,

but only his wife, a mere woman, noticed.

∗

After Prince Tahj had left,

after Xau played hide and seek with his son,

after Xau trained with spear and ji,

after Xau met with the head carpenter,

after Xau consulted his steward,

after Xau ate a late supper with his guards,

only then, the midsummer sky long since dark,