I despise the demon,

as I despised the one before him.”

“The one before?”

“Yes. Eleven hundred years ago.

How quickly your people forget.”

He leaned forward until his head brushed the snow.

“Please. Help us. He is burning the towns.

We cannot stop him. We do not know how.”

“Get up. Don’t beg. It doesn’t suit you.”

He stood.

“The demon is a foul and spreading stain

in my thoughts. If he comes here, I will kill him.”

She turned her head to the side and flamed hugely,

her breath lighting the slope below them.

“If he comes here—will you not seek him out?”

“No. My power is in these mountains.

The last demon came here

when she ran out of towns to burn.

Perhaps this one will too.”

“That’s your advice: to wait until every town

has burnt to the ground, and then kill him?”

She laughed, a sound like an anvil dropped on granite.

“Good. I like it better when you spit.

I advise you to kill him yourself.”

“How? We are outmatched.”

“Are you? Do not men follow you?

Did not the horses come to you?”

“If we knew which town he would attack,

if we had any way to defend it—”

“As to which town, I cannot help.

But remember two things:

an army will not help against a demon,

and demons are strongest in darkness.”

“Thank you. We are in your debt—”

“Spare me the speech. Go. Hurry.

Save what’s left of your kingdom.”

ALDFORD

Thirty feet down,

months after Aldford burned,

old Nial shoveled dirt,

digging out a new well.

His back hurt. His arms hurt.

He took a break, straightened up,

stared at the small circle

of gray sky.

Linny, his son’s wife,

grunted beside him,

a woman doing man’s work.

Both of them fools.

Should have stayed gone,

left for another town,

like most of the others

who fled before the fire.

Nial bent back over,

pried loose a rock

with swollen painful fingers.

Shoveled more dirt.

He wasn’t going anywhere,

at least not while his son

lay up top, his bones

lost among other bones.

BEFORE

Khyert, once King Xau’s stableboy,

now valet, aide, groom,

handed the king pants, tunic, belt—

Khyert’s hands shaking—

said in a sudden burst,

“Do not send me from your side!”

Xau adjusted his belt, looked to Khyert.

“If we ourself are killed,

we would have you live.”

∗

Artoch, senior advisor to King Xau,

lifted his tea bowl,

set it down again without drinking.

“Your Majesty, I recommend—I ask—

that you take your guards.

Please.”

Xau shook his head.

Artoch knelt then,

he who never knelt to Xau,

he who offered the young king

advice not adulation.

“Thank you,” said Artoch,

“for your service to Meqing.”

His voice deserted him.

The king a blur who came over

and gently raised him up.

∗

Tsung, captain of King Xau’s guards,

checked Xau’s sword for the third time,

stared long at Xau before he said,

“Your father undervalued you.