I picked flowers, then threw them away.”

She touched each man’s forehead.

“Forget my words,

they are nothing but air.

Going, gone.”

Fian left with her guards.

She didn’t wait for the kings.

VIEWPOINT

In every bowl of tea,

a chance of poison.

Li saw:

King Xau and King Donal

standing, spattered by spray,

on the opposite side

of the wooden overlook;

Rourk, Donal’s guard,

armed with sword and crossbow;

snow-melt plunging

in twisted braids

to the river below.

No backup.

No guard save him

to protect King Xau.

Beyond each doorway

may stand an assassin.

Li saw:

an ancient stone wolf

carved in the rock-face

(sacred to Donal’s people:

the reason no other guards

were permitted);

above, on the cliff top,

a giant stone figure

(also deemed sacred);

the narrow, exposed path

back to the horses.

Risk can be reduced,

but not eliminated.

A shadow shifted—Li looked up—

the giant stone figure tilted.

Li leapt toward Xau, yelling,

as the stone figure crashed down—

the platform splintering,

shearing, tipping.

If a rock tumbles,

look for he who pushed it.

Underwater. Icy. Bubbles.

Li tried to kick up.

The water shoved him down.

He dropped his bow, his sword,

running out of air.

Yanked up by his jacket,

he surfaced, coughing water.

Xau, gripping him,

slammed into a boulder

at the river’s edge.

Li heaved them out.

Lightning kills,

but men are killers.

Li saw:

Xau beside him,

left arm bent back, broken;

floating debris (planks, splinters);

a rock, upstream,

with the smashed body

of Donal’s guard;

Donal sprawled on the far bank,

red on his shirt.

“Swim to Donal. Help him.”

Xau had to say it twice

before Li understood him,

the king panting shallowly,

his teeth chattering.

“No. You’re hurt and in danger.”

Li opened Xau’s jacket,

the king jerking at the touch,

breath gasping, rapid.

No blood on his tunic.

“Your arm’s broken,

maybe some ribs.”

“That can wait,” said Xau.

“Li, go. Help Donal.

We fought to gain this peace.

Worth risk to keep it.”

Li stared at Xau,

then dipped his head

in acknowledgement.

A man must learn

which risks to take.

So. Li would have to trust

that no assailant descended

from the cliff top.

He took off his boots and jacket,

plunged into the water,

swam, diagonally, swept downstream,

for the far side.

To die for Xau, one matter.

To die for Donal, another.

Ripples, swirls, rocks.

Li fetched up on the bank,

sprinted to King Donal—

the king groaning,

a long gash across his chest—

used the king’s soaking shirt

to bandage him,

helped him into the river.

Swam, supporting King Donal.

Slower, too slow, freezing,

not even halfway across.

Li’s head went under.

He kicked, holding Donal,

surfaced, gasped. Air.

He had not realized how much

he still valued his life.

The river stronger than him,

Donal clutching him, heavy.

Water closed over him.

He kicked, couldn’t surface,

couldn’t breathe, cold.

Looming darkness rushed at him—

rock—no—

he hurtled into the flank