Time wasted. Tsung beyond help.

Leong looked to the king,

saw the gash in his jacket,

his left shoulder,

the steady trickle of blood.

“Xau. Let go of him.”

Leong softened his voice,

laid his hands over the king’s.

The king would not let go of Tsung.

“Leong, he’ll bleed to death.”

“I know. I can’t save him.”

Leong prised the king’s hands loose,

pulled the king’s jacket off.

Xau’s shoulder lacerated deep into muscle,

bleeding freely,

the king’s breath quickened,

his skin clammy—

Leong looked up—

Gan bent over one of several bodies

(killed by Tsung and the king?),

Shuen tying up the horse,

Li and Dao on guard, bows readied—

“I need some help!”

Li the first there.

Leong grabbed a bandage from his pack,

pressed it to the king’s shoulder,

set Li’s hand over the bandage.

“Apply pressure. Don’t release.”

“How are they?”

“Tsung’s dying.”

“Xau?”

“Hold his shoulder.”

Which was no answer.

Leong would not lie outright,

but spoke as best he could to calm the king,

“Xau, the cut to your shoulder looks clean.

Which is good, very good.

Stay still for me.

You’ll feel my hands.”

Leong kept his voice soft, continuous,

as he probed the king scalp to foot.

No other injury Leong could find,

but the king’s pulses racing, weak, disordered,

the king shivering—

How much of the blood on the snow his?

“Xau, let’s warm you up a bit.”

Leong took his jacket off,

put it over the king,

and the king’s jacket over that,

and the blanket from the pack.

All futile if the king had lost

as much blood as Leong thought.

The king’s eyes on him.

Leong could not meet that gaze.

Dispassion. Detachment.

The mark of a good surgeon,

a good physician.

Leong fallen short.

“Li, hold on tight.

Xau, I’m going to lie you down.”

His voice calm, his voice a lie.

“You’ll feel my hands again.

Take deep breaths. That’s it.”

He took the king’s twelve pulses,

once, then again. Firmer.

A hopeful sign.

“Leong.” Li insistent. “How is Xau?”

“How do you think?!

He lost a lot of blood—”

Leong stopped. Looked down.

Observed his hands shaking.

Looked up.

Saw, fleetingly,

so brief he almost missed it,

fear on the king’s face.

“Xau—I’m sorry. You’ll be fine.”

He met the king’s eyes properly.

“You lost a lot of blood,

but I think you’ll be fine.”

“Tsung?” Xau strained to lift his head.

Leong took a breath. Let it out.

Helped the king look.

Tsung still, his chest still.

Xau closed his eyes, said,

“The men who attacked. Were Innish.

Swore in Innish. Tsung fought.

As we have never seen.”

So. Leong silent.

Hard to summon words.

“Li, you may let go now.

I’ll hold his shoulder.”

He gripped the king’s shoulder.

“Xau, I’m going to sit with you.

Shuen made a fire for us,

back at the camp.”

Beyond, tied to a tree,

the horse waited for Tsung’s body.

CAPTAIN

The king badly injured,