Ying a sweetness in his arms

that he did not want to set down,

that he set down anyhow;

he had hours of work left.

He touched his hand to Shazia’s,

watched her lead Ying away.

Footsteps behind him—

Li, who should have been off-duty by now—

“Your Majesty.” Li knelt to him,

a thing he had not done in years.

Xau set his hand under Li’s arm,

raised him up, studied him in the dusk,

Li’s breath too fast. “What’s wrong?”

“Eight is an auspicious number,” said Li.

Xau raised his eyebrows. “And so?”

“Meqing has eight ministries.

The palace has eight wings.

You have eight guards,

as did your father,

and all the kings before him.”

Xau waited.

“Your Majesty, there’s a man

I’d like to test for a place

as a ninth guard. His name is Atun.”

ATUN

He was the wind,

the bow in his hand,

the galloping horse beneath him.

At the top of the horse’s rising run,

in that suspended instant

when all four hooves

left the ground,

he had no fear, no need;

he was the air-drawn line

between eye and target,

the string releasing,

the arrow in flight.

Earlier,

one hour into his first day

working as a stablehand,

Atun was a pending storm:

he hadn’t striven seven years

so he could muck out stalls—

had dreamt of shielding the king

with sword and bow and blood and muscle.

One hour then Captain Li appeared—

Atun’s first thought

that Li had decided to dismiss him—

but no,

the captain wished to test him

for a position as king’s guard.

One last chance for Atun

to earn what he most wanted.

He was the rush of air,

the cool jade hardness

of his thumb ring;

no thought to it

as he fitted another arrow to the string;

no past, no future,

nothing beyond the bow, the horse,

the stirrups under his feet

as he turned his body,

loosed the arrow.

Over. Done.

Atun wheeled his horse round,

rode to the captain,

fear and need rushing back,

the bow trembling,

his limbs trembling.

“Good enough,” said Li.

“Your sword skills need work,

but I’ve never seen a finer archer.”

Atun unable to do more than nod.

WHAT ATUN LEARNED

In his first month as King Xau’s guard,

Atun learned:

That the other guards outmatched Atun

with every weapon save the bow;

that Li, their captain, outmatched him

as easily as a horse outruns a beetle.

That in every ten-hour duty shift

the guards spent two hours training;

that Atun would train for twice as long

until he met the captain’s standards.

That, in matters concerning

the king’s safety, the king’s guards

(including Atun, new though he was)

outranked every officer in the army.

That King Xau was not the hero

Atun had imagined: in all that month,

no demon defeated, no magic wrought,

no monster slain, no battle fought.

That Xau bruised as easily

as other men, and, in private,

nursed a mosquito bite