as if it were a war wound.

That, in public, Xau never complained,

never showed when he was tired;

listened more than he spoke,

noticed more than he said.

That the guards ate breakfast

with the king and his family;

that Princess Ying, age three,

loathed rice gruel, craved sesame balls.

That the king took Prince Keng riding

twice a week, no matter how busy he was.

That the king trained with his guards

every day, no matter how busy he was.

That the king was busy every day;

that the king would sooner talk

to Tian, his elderly cleaning woman,

than to the dignitaries vying for his time.

That the dignitaries

were unlikely to guess this—

Xau attentive to all who approached,

high or low, man or woman.

That, in private, the guards bantered

with each other; that Li and Leong and Gan

bantered even with the king;

that, in public, the guards held silence.

That at the close of every shift

the king bowed more deeply

to his guards than he did

to visiting princes.

Even to Atun,

the least and most junior

of his guards,

Xau bowed as if to a king.

JUN XI

No raised voices, no open dissent,

yet something amiss—

Atun, newest and most junior

of King Xau’s guards,

scanned the eight ministers,

their assistants, the king’s advisors,

King Xau himself—

King Xau whose gaze rested

on Finance Minister Jun Xi,

even though Jun Xi had not spoken—

Jun Xi’s posture perhaps too rigid,

Jun Xi who had argued against the king

at two previous meetings.

Resentment there?

Enough to endanger the king?

Atun gave a finger signal to Dao,

who stood guard across the room.

Another minister gave his report,

the king looking often at Jun Xi,

Jun Xi agitated,

Atun uneasy—

Jun Xi appeared to be unarmed,

no sword at his belt,

the red sash of his office

perfectly aligned atop his silk robes;

an aging, argumentative man

who had eyed Atun dismissively

when he became a king’s guard,

as if Atun’s braided hair, his armbands

marked him as a savage—

“Your Majesty,” said Jun Xi,

beginning the treasury report,

“trade with Innis continues to increase

with a concomitant rise in revenue.”

—A slew of numbers followed, then—

“A most regrettable incident occurred

in the district department of Weizhou.

Five men, including an inspector,

have been accused of fraud in the exams

to enter the finance ministry.

It appears likely they will be convicted.”

Jun Xi stood up,

lifted the red sash of office

over his head, clutched it.

“I therefore offer my resignation.”

Which explained the minister’s agitation.

Atun relaxed fractionally.

“Had you met any of these men?”

King Xau’s voice quiet, even,

his expression hard to read.

“No.”

“Do you know of anything

connecting you to this incident

beyond the fact that it took place

within your ministry?”

“No.”

“When did you first learn about it?”

“Two days ago.”

“You should have informed us at once.

That is a serious error of judgment.”