David Cook - Horselords Страница 12

"What does your Enlightened One do? Does he reward you and strike down your enemies with lightning?" Yamun's voice was muffled as fresh clothes were pulled over his head.

"The Enlightened One fills us with perfect understanding and harmony. With that we do not have enemies."

"Phah. What if I were your enemy? Would your perfect understanding protect you?" Yamun stepped out, dressed in long, loose robes of red and yellow silk, embroidered with leaping tigers. The quiverbearers and the women gathered up the dirty clothes and carried them away.

"I have faith in Furo and the Enlightened One."

"I have faith in my bow and my sword," Yamun pronounced as he strapped on his sword. "They are the power. Teylas gave them to me, and he can strike down his enemies from the sky. Teylas is a god you can use."

Koja was astonished by this last statement. "Gods are not used."

"Teylas would take back the power if I did not use it, so he is a god to be used," Yamun snapped with a slight sneer.

Dressed and accoutered, Yamun sat in his chair, ready to hear the morning's business.

"Don't you fear offending Teylas?" Koja asked as he wetted the writing brush.

"Why?"

"Well," Koja offered hesitantly, rubbing at the back of his neck, "others might call your words presumptuous. You might be wrong in interpreting Teylas's will."

"Others have not been given the power by Teylas. That is why I sit in judgment of the khans, and we have kept them waiting long enough," he announced, pointing to the quiverbearer coming up the hill. "It is time for business."

"Yes, Great Lord," Koja said, setting out a clean sheet of paper.

"Enough 'Great Lord.' Today I permit you to call me khahan, with no other titles." Yamun looked to the quiverbearer as the man reached the courtyard. "Who waits?" the khahan asked, pointing to the gate at the bottom of the hill.

The servant knelt, bowing his head. "Glorious khahan, the khans of the Jeun and Bahkshir bring petition that you hear their cases, and one of Chanar Ong Kho's men has come saying his master has returned. The general awaits your pleasure to make his report."

"Tell Chanar to come," Yamun said, irritated. "He should have presented himself when he arrived. Jeun Khan and Bahkshir Khan will wait until this afternoon."

Koja sat up straighter and smoothed out his orange robe. "Khahan," he asked hesitantly, uncertain of the liberties of his new status as historian, "just where has General Chanar been?"

"Eh? You don't know?"

"No, Great Lord—"

"Khahan," Yamun corrected.

"No, Khahan," Koja said, biting his lip over the fumble. "I only heard that he was gone, sent away."

"Good. You weren't meant to know."

"I what?"

"You were not meant to know where he went," Yamun said slowly and clearly. "Again you thought I was simple. Koja of the Khazari, in my empire you learn what I want you to learn and nothing else. Learn that," he stated with finality.

A servant in a white kalat stepped up to the edge of the carpets and knelt down, pressing his head into the mats.

"Speak," Yamun ordered, reluctantly recognizing the man.

"The honorable second empress, Mother Bayalun, expresses relief that the khahan of all the Tuigan is once again unharmed by Teylas's wrath. She gives the greetings of a mother unto her stepson, of a wife unto her husband," the servant announced.

Yamun scowled. "Take my greetings to my stepmother and my wife, Mother Bayalun, at my pleasure."

The man stayed in his place, head to the carpets. "The second empress wishes the indulgence of her husband and wonders if she might attend on the khahan his morning."

"Mother Bayalun knows she is always welcome. Go back and tell her she can attend if she wants," Yamun lazily answered. He waved to dismiss the man.

"I thought you did not care for the second empress " Koja commented as the white-garbed man hurried out of sight.

"I don't, scribe. I married her because tribal tradition demanded it," Yamun explained.

"Then why do you let her attend?"

Yamun stretched his arms forward, working the kinks out of his shoulders. "Why not? She would learn what happens anyway. If I send her away, she becomes suspicious and makes trouble. Here, I can see what she's doing. I pick my battles better than that."

Koja nodded. "I see."

"Good. Now," Yamun said, turning to Koja, "prepare yourself. General Chanar and his aides are coming, and you will have to take down all that is said. Now you will learn where General Chanar has been."

Koja looked toward the gate of the stockade, easily spotting the stiff-backed form of the general, mounted on his horse. Unlike all others who passed through the gate, Chanar refused to dismount, remaining in his saddle as his stocky white mare pranced up the hill. Behind him trailed three aides, on foot, their horses at the gate.

As he rode forward, Chanar kicked and whipped at his pony, getting it to rear and prance. The beast was already spirited, but the general was determined to get it to perform more to make his entrance all the more exciting. The aides following him kept a good distance back, lest his horse lash out at them.

At last, Chanar reached the top of the hill. With a final spur, he reared his horse back, bringing its hooves down just short of the carpeting. A quiverbearer ran forward and took the animal's reins, holding the horse while Chanar dismounted. Swinging one leg over the horse's neck, the general easily slid from the saddle and landed on his feet in the mud with a loud plop.

"Greetings to my khahan," Chanar said loudly. He looked to all those around him. " 'Though I was far, when my khan called, quickly did I come,'" he said, quoting an old poem.

" 'Many are my enemies, but like rotten trees they fall,'" countered the khahan, quoting from the same poem.

"Greetings to my brother Chanar," Yamun continued. "May the Sky God always make your horses fat and your lambs many." A quiverbearer scooped a ladleful of kumiss. He handed it to the khahan. Yamun took a drink from the ladle. The yellow-white liquid clung to his mustache. The ladle next passed to Chanar, who noisily gulped a large swallow and handed it back. The servant walked back to Yamun, but the khahan waved him to Koja.

"Today, he also drinks from my cup."

Chanar looked in surprise from Yamun to Koja as the servant passed the ladle over. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it just as quickly.

Steeling his stomach, Koja took the ladle with both hands and gulped a swallow of the bitter drink. Suppressing a gag, he gave the silver ladle back to the servant.

The khahan turned to the east and poured a little kumiss on the carpet. Then he turned to the south and the west, doing the same at each spot. Only the north, an evil direction, was avoided. Meanwhile the servant took the horsetail banner from its stand and lowered it in front of Yamun.

"Teylas lead us on the hunt. Teylas lead us in battle. Teylas make our wives fertile," Yamun chanted in a toneless voice as he sprinkled the last of the kumiss over the banner. The servants took the cup and banner and set them back in their places. Yamun, the formalities over, sat back on his throne. "Sit, Chanar, and report," the khahan said casually.

Slowly and with noticeable reluctance, Chanar sat beside Koja, eyeing the priest venomously.

Just as the general was about to speak, a procession arrived from Bayalun's tent. The second empress led the small group, of only a few servants. Stepping onto the carpets, she bowed to the khahan. "I thank my husband for permitting me to attend." Her silver-brown hair shone richly in the morning sun.

Yamun nodded respectfully to his stepmother. "Your wisdom is always welcome to us." Mother Bayalun quickly took a seat opposite the men.

"Now, make your report, General Chanar," bade Yamun. Chanar took in his breath slowly, composing his thoughts. After a slight pause he began.

"Following your orders, I went first to Tomke's ordu. He camped all winter on Yellow Grass Steppe, but with the spring now, his pastures are almost gone—"

"He's not to move until I tell him," Yamun interrupted, addressing his comment to Koja. The priest dutifully noted it down, writing with quick strokes.

"As I said," Chanar continued, "the grass there is almost gone. He hopes to move east toward the Tsu-Tsu people, but he waits for your orders."

"How are his men?"

"Tomke let many of them go home during the winter, to reduce his grazing. He has three tumen left—Sartak's, Nogai's, and Kadan's—in addition to his own." Koja counted them off on his fingers. "They are not full. His wizards count perhaps thirty minghans."

"Minghan?" Koja softly interrupted. "What is this? Please excuse me, but I need to know for the letters."

Chanar answered him contemptuously. "A minghan is one hundred arban. An arban is ten men."

"Ah," Koja said, working out the figures on a small abacus, "Tomke has thirty thousand men."

Yamun scowled. "He's let too many men go. Order him to call them back immediately."

Koja quickly wrote the command on a fresh sheet of paper and handed it to a waiting quiverbearer. The man presented the paper on a tray, along with a stone coated with red ink. The khahan took his seal, a small silver block with a top in the shape of a bird, from under his shirt. The underside was carved in the contorted Tuigan script. Yamun dipped the seal into the ink and pressed it on the sheet. The sealbearer backed away, blowing the ink dry as he went.

"Continue," ordered the khahan.

"He has not sent many scouts," Chanar noted. "The Tsu-Tsu seem peaceful. He thinks they will come over to us without fighting. The lands behind him, to the west, have been conquered. He has recruited some soldiers from them, but they are poor warriors. He says they are too weak to rebel, and I agree with him. They are dogs."

"Dogs bite," observed Yamun. "What do you say, historian?"

Koja was startled by the question, too surprised to be diplomatic. "If they have been treated well, they will not rebel. But if Tomke has ruled them harshly, they will fight more fiercely than ever before. My own people, the Khazari, have fought so in ancient times against wicked emperors of Shou Lung."

"So, the Khazari are not just mice," commented Chanar with a faint sneer.

Koja colored at the slight and bristled to make a reply.

"Enough," Yamun firmly interrupted. "Good advice. Chanar, how was my son treating them?"

"I didn't ask," Chanar replied sullenly. He shot an evil glare at Koja.

"Someone should find out. Send Hulagu Khan. Draw up the orders to see that it's done."

Koja nodded and made a brief note.

"Was there anything else at Tomke's camp?" Yamun asked, returning to Chanar.

"He's met with the chief of the ogres from the northern mountains. They want to fight alongside us. He wants to know if he should send the chief to your ordu."

"What are they like?" Yamun tugged at his mustache, considering the offer.

"They're strong. Their chief stands twice the height of a man and likes to fight. I say we use them."

"What do you know of ogres, historian?" Yamun asked, curious to see if the priest had any insight on these beasts.

Koja thought back to the scrolls in his temple that showed ogres as hideous, blue-faced monsters locked in combat with Furo. "They are treacherous and violent beasts. I would not trust them."