one of your pigeons reached us.

We have brought what we could.”

Honghui looked beyond the king and his guards,

saw perhaps forty soldiers

with as many laden packhorses.

Laden with what?

Honghui had barely been able to steady his hand

when he wrote reporting disaster,

less than an hour after the earthquake,

before he realized they wouldn’t find

any other carrier pigeons alive,

before he knew what they most needed.

Forty packhorses couldn’t carry food for six thousand,

but if they had bandages, or rope, or axes—

Honghui looked back at the king.

“Your Majesty, thank you—

would you like refreshment?”

“We’re fine. Tell us how to help.”

Xau’s voice gentle,

and that gentleness almost undid Honghui,

who had not known what to do,

but had done the best he could

for the past eleven days;

it took him a while

before he could compose himself

and tell the king what they needed.

WHAT THEY BROUGHT

Salt, sugar, spice, oil, oats,

dried meat, pots, pans, paper,

maps, thread, string, rope,

candles, canvas, coins;

nails, needles, nets, knives,

tents, tongs, wrenches, anvil,

axes, augers, gimlets, chisels,

hooks, hammers, pickaxes, shovels;

blankets, bandages, ointment,

pestles, mortars, forceps, clamps,

curettes, scissors, specula,

scalpels, saws, surgeons.

ROUTE

A brief break snatched

between a dozen pressing tasks,

the map spread out on rubble

where the city walls of Jian-Jian

had stood, the walls largely leveled

along with the city.

Lieutenant Honghui followed

as King Xau pointed out his route:

the main road north from the capital,

wagons, fresh horses every fifteen miles;

then by boat along the river,

the king and his soldiers

still making good speed,

changing oarsmen whenever possible;

then east, slow-going,

a hundred miles along worsening roads,

running into bandits, looters, refugees;

then across the Blue Snake river—

“How?” asked Honghui. “The bridges are out.

I sent scouts, hoping for a supply route.”

Xau shrugged. “We had three sampan boats.

It took twenty-eight crossings

and we had to abandon the wagons.”

The captain of Xau’s guards,

who had shadowed the king all day,

said, “It is not a safe crossing point.

We nearly lost two of the sampans.”

“You crossed here?”

Honghui tapped the map,

the river fast-flowing at that point,

not as bad as the rapids, but dangerous,

and, in February, near-freezing.

Xau nodded.

“In sampans? With forty packhorses?”

“The horses swam.”

“Swam the Blue Snake river, in winter?”

Xau looked up at Honghui,

his eyes alight, smiling

for the first time that day.

“They are good horses.”

“But—How—?”

The captain of Xau’s guards said,

“The king swam. They followed him.”

Honghui stared at the king.

“You swam across the river?”

Xau nodded, turned back to the map.

“We left six men to guard supplies

that we couldn’t load onto the horses.

Tomorrow, when the horses are rested,

you can send back for those.”

Quickly, the king discussed the worst spots

on the road (what was left of the road)

between the river and Jian-Jian

(what was left of Jian-Jian).