“Fuck, Xau, you made good time—”

“We had eighteen horses

between the six of us.”

“Eighteen horses—

How far did you ride today?”

“From the fort at Guanshan.”

“Fuck.”

Donal took Xau’s sodden cloak,

Xau looked him up and down,

their hands clasped.

“Sit. Eat. Your guards too.”

“How is Tiarnan?”

“Doing better.”

“That’s good. Very good. And you?”

A shrug.

“When did you arrive?”

“Two days ago.

I went to Harmouth first.

Told Mei. Saw the baby,

one of the fattest babies I’ve seen.

She named him Connol.”

“We know. We’re glad.”

A pause then,

both of them remembering

the other Connol,

Donal’s brother.

More in that silence

than in the little they’d said.

THE VOICE

Through the spy-hole,

the Voice studied the two kings:

The seats slanted subtly sideways,

and Donal, the older king,

fidgeted, as did most petitioners;

Xau, the younger king,

sat as if entirely at his ease.

The Voice lowered her veil,

entered the room.

Both men stood.

“You may sit,” said the Voice.

“I speak for the Hidden Queen.”

A thousand times

the Voice had done this,

yet still that strangeness

when, from a chamber far below,

the Hidden Queen extended

the tendrils of her thoughts

into the Voice’s mind,

borrowed her lips, her tongue,

spoke through her:

“You requested a meeting. Why?”

Donal shifted in his seat.

“Fian, my wife, used witchcraft.

She raised the dead—”

“By killing her sister. So I heard.”

“A month ago, Fian hung herself.

Could she have worked a spell

as she died?”

“Yes, and it’s your own fault.”

“My fault? How?”

“You allowed her to kill herself—”

“Allowed?!”

Donal spat on the floor.

“She was bound, blindfolded,

yet she hung herself

from a lamp hook.”

“Careless of you to leave

a hook within reach,

careless and unfortunate.

Dark magic took place

the night Fian died,

almost certainly her handiwork.”

“Fuck. Fuck.”

Xau spoke for the first time,

his voice quiet, level.

“What did she do?”

“I don’t know,

only that it was an act

of purposeful malevolence.”

The Voice stepped right up to Xau,

gazed at him from behind her veil.

“I was asked to tell you this, King Xau.”

“Asked?”

“By one well known to you.

She wished you to have warning.”

Recognition, comprehension,

then a momentary gentling

to the set of Xau’s face.

“Thank her for us.”

The Voice nodded.

“I am in your debt

for slaying the demon.”

Her hand lifted—

not by her own will, but the queen’s—

almost, she almost touched him,

then her hand dropped.

She stepped back, said,

“Tell me whose voice you each heard

when the demon spoke to you.”

“My uncle’s,” said Donal.

Xau said nothing.

“Come now, King Xau,

my vices are simple,

gluttony and curiosity.

Tell me whom you heard.”

Still Xau said nothing.

“What do you desire

in return for your answer?

Treasure? Knowledge?”

“Peace and prosperity for our kingdom.”

Laughter. Discordant, creaking.

“Is it contagious,

this worthiness of yours?

What do you, Xau, wish for?”