Текст книги "Horselords"

Автор книги: David Cook

Соавторы: David Cook
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"I cannot," said Koja, bringing the khahan to a stop. "I cannot until I rest. These spells are very tiring. I will be ready tonight, before the dawn. And I will need an offering, one suitable to something as powerful as this spirit must be. Is this possible, Yamun?"

"It will be arranged," Yamun assured the lama as he slowly walked back to his throne. "What happens after you talk to this spirit?"

"I do not know," Koja admitted. "I have never done this type of thing before."

A Kashik slowly appeared at the door, making sure that the khahan knew of his presence. Behind him came one of Yamun's couriers. "A message from Sechen the Wrestler, Great Lord," explained the Kashik, stepping aside to let the messenger speak.

"Speak your message," Yamun ordered.

"Sechen sends me to report that Goyuk Khan is dead." The messenger bowed his head and stood quietly.

Yamun walked to the door and looked out over the plain, the pain clear in his face. Slowly and deliberately he spoke, "Shou Lung will pay." His voice implied no threat, no promise, only a certainty that he would break the Dragonwall and gain his vengeance on the emperor who cowered behind it.

16

Traitors

That night was a somber one in the Tuigan camp. The yurtchis, following Yamun's instructions, had moved the tents forward so that by late evening the yurts were in position. Campfires covered the ridge and the near side of the plain before the Dragonwall. Yamun ordered the men to build extra fires to make the army seem even larger. Still, no fire was closer than what Koja, Bayalun, and her wizards determined was safe. The distant tumble of rocks served as a reminder of what could happen to any who ventured too close to the Shou fortification.

The fires of the Tuigan were matched by sparks of flame along the length of the Dragonwall. The Shou troops had withdrawn behind the wall and now lined its ramparts. In the darkness between the two forces, jackals growled and fought over the carrion.

In the royal yurt, Yamun sat, searching for a way to break the stalemate. The khahan had to be prepared, in case Koja failed. Sechen, his duties among the troops finished, stood at his usual place by the door. Bayalun and Chanar sat at the khahan's feet. Though her mood was dark, Bayalun sat calmly. Chanar was openly agitated, distressed by the actions of the Shou. It was not according to the plan. Yamun assumed the general's nervousness was caused by frustration at the day's failure.

From the corner, the scribe read aloud the reports from the scouts. The news was not encouraging. There was no hope of flanking the wall, nor had the riders been able to find any weak spots along its length. Some reported troop movements atop the wall, but the numbers given were not large enough to alarm the khahan. Other scouts screened the army's flanks, watching for enemy repositioning. So far these riders had seen nothing.

Other couriers carried dispatches from Prince Tomke. The khahan's third son was marching with his army to join Yamun. Unlike his brothers, Jad and Hubadai, however, Tomke was cautious and advanced with care. The message claimed it would be several days before his men would arrive. This last piece of news prompted Yamun to send his son an angry rebuke about his troops' slowness.

Finally, the scribe reached a sheet that arrived only a few hours before, a scroll delivered from the Shou. Carefully and slowly, the ancient scholar read the crabbed characters, holding the sheet close to his eyes to see it clearly in the dim light.

Khahan, the note began. The emperor of the Jade Throne is pleased to call you an equal to his sons.

You have seen the futility of attacking the unbreakable Dragonwall. It is a truth that if you continue, your greatness will only be dimmed by failure. Let there be no quarrel between the Tuigan and the emperor of all Shou Lung. Depart and go in peace.

As the scribe finished reading the note aloud, Yamun looked at both Chanar and Bayalun. "They want us to surrender."

"So it would seem, Khahan," Bayalun said. Chanar only grunted in agreement.

Yamun picked at his teeth. "Mother Bayalun, why did your wizards fail me today?" The accusation in the khahan's voice was clear.

Unfazed by her stepson's obvious distrust, Bayalun sat proud and stiff-backed as she gave her explanation. "The wizards failed you no more than your own men. They were unprepared for what happened."

"And why did it happen?" Yamun pressed.

"It is a mystery," Bayalun admitted. She lowered her eyes to the floor, abashed at being forced to admit her ignorance.

"When will your wizards know? Tomorrow? That is when they must be ready," Yamun insisted, nodding to the scribe to write the order.

"If my son, my husband, were to rescind his orders to have the wizards beaten, I am certain they will be able to help tomorrow." Bayalun kept looking to the floor, seeking Yamun's favor with mock humility.

"They deserve to be beaten," Yamun snapped.

"Perhaps," the second empress allowed. "But if they are beaten, they will be too weak to fight tomorrow."

"Then give me seven of them, to make an example to the others."

Bayalun stiffened. "No. Their numbers are few and you will need them all tomorrow." She realized her defiance had backed Yamun into a corner with no way to save face. "Tomorrow, if they fail, you may do as you wish with all of them," the khadun offered.

Yamun bristled at her disobedience, knowing he could not force her to comply with the conflict looming before his army. "Very well," he said, his voice tinged by his ill-temper. "Make certain they're ready. There will be no more failures." He pointed at her to accent his words. Her face a mask, Bayalun nodded in understanding.

Finished with the question of wizards, Yamun turned his attention to Chanar. "My general, with Goyuk slain, I'm giving you command of the Ciejan, Ormusk, and Ulu tumens. I'll take the rest." Chanar bowed his head in gratitude. "Will your men be ready for battle tomorrow?" the khahan asked.

"Of course, Yamun. But how will we cross the plain?" Chanar gestured in the general direction of the wall. "Their magic will destroy us."

Yamun smiled enigmatically. "Perhaps not. Now, Chanar, my valiant man, we must make a plan. Since we cannot get the Shou to chase us, how do we attack their wall?"

Stepping down from his throne, Yamun sat on the rugs across from his general. The scribe quickly unrolled a long, narrow scroll between the two men. Along one edge was a diagram of the Dragonwall, showing the gates and the towers. Opposite the wall were little circles, denoting the camps of the Tuigan.

Chanar risked a glance toward Bayalun, to see if she knew what the khahan intended. Noting the general's perplexed look, she gave a small, quick shrug to show that she knew no more than he. Chanar looked back to the map, studying it briefly. "First, Yamun, we must find a way to reach the wall. The broken dirt blocks our horses."

"I agree. Mother Bayalun," the khahan called out without looking up from the map, "your wizards must clear a path through the broken earth."

"Yes, my husband," the khadun answered quietly as she looked over their shoulders. "But the men will fear being crushed if the earth moves again."

"Just do what you are ordered. I will worry about the men. How long will it take?" Yamun demanded impatiently.

Bayalun looked to the ceiling, calculating the spells needed to do the task. "By morning, I think."

"Go then and see that it is done," Yamun ordered. "Sechen, lead a guard to protect the khadun. Send me reports on her progress."

"By your word, it shall be done," the soldier and the khadun both said at once. As the pair left, Bayalun eyed the big wrestler venomously. She knew that the man was being sent to spy on her.

Yamun turned his attention back to the map. "If the paths were clear, Chanar, where would you make the attack?"

Chanar studied the map, stalling to conceal his discomfort. The khahan did not suspect that tomorrow the general planned to overthrow him. The khahan was, in fact, giving the traitor an opportunity to personally plan his downfall. His intentions set, Chanar studied the map in earnest.

"I would strike here and here," the general answered, his hand sweeping over the map. He tackled the problem with enthusiasm. Things were almost like earlier times, in the days when he and Yamun made plans to conquer the Dalats and Quirish. Only now, the stakes were much higher and the game subtler.

Quickly Chanar sketched out his ideas to Yamun. The khahan listened, then added these to his own plans, never realizing that Chanar was planning treachery. Together they argued and discussed, working well into the night. It was a slow process, but gradually the two warriors created a plan of battle for the morning.

"I'll have arbans sent into the mountains to cut trees for rams and ladders immediately," Chanar promised. "The men will be ready to attack at dawn."

"Excellent, my anda," Yamun said. "Tomorrow we will avenge Goyuk. Go and rest. There will be much to do when the sun rises." With a wave he dismissed the general.

As the warrior left the tent, Yamun settled back with satisfaction. Chanar at times might be ambitious, but Yamun thought that he could depend on the general. The plan they had worked out was dangerous, but sound.

Outside the tent, Chanar sought out Bayalun at her yurt. Telling the guards Yamun had posted there that he carried orders from the khahan, the general was admitted with only the briefest announcement. Chanar was not surprised to find Bayalun still awake, meditating over her brazier. Once safely out of earshot of the guard, Chanar told her what had happened. "Why is he planning this? Does he expect your wizards to keep the ground from tearing open again?" Chanar asked in bewilderment.

"I do not know," Bayalun confessed. "I have sat here and pondered on it. The Shou have built some secret into their wall. Of that I am certain. But why Yamun is confident he can overcome their magic is another mystery." She shrugged off these concerns. "Whatever he does, it will not matter. If the Shou kill him with their magic or we catch him in the trap, our plans will succeed."

"Then he will fall," Chanar observed.

"Of course—just as long as he makes the attack." Bayalun glanced toward the vain general with a knowing smile. "Tomorrow, my stepson will be dead. Then we can see about making you the khahan of the Tuigan—as you should be."

Chanar returned the smile, though his heart was pained. Tonight, for a short time, he and Yamun were anda once more. Tomorrow that bond would be severed forever.

While Chanar and Bayalun plotted in her yurt, Koja and a small group of guardsmen picked their way between the Tuigan camp and the Dragonwall. Quietly, the company moved through the ruins of the battlefield toward the line of tumbled dirt and stone that marked the limit of that day's charge. Several times the men came across bands of jackals or viler creatures—gigantic centipedes and carrion worms—feasting on the bodies of the dead. The sight sickened the priest, but there was little he could do for the dead now. He said a few quick prayers for the fallen warriors.

The corpses reminded Koja that he should attempt to speak to the dead guard discovered that morning, providing he ever got the chance. There was something about the way the bodies were found that nagged at his brain. It's probably nothing, the lama assured himself so he could keep his mind on the business at hand. However, this was a war, and you can't be too careful.

The band finally reached the churned, rocky ground that marked the beginning of the destruction. "Here, priest?" asked the guide, a grizzled Kashik with long, gray braids.

Koja shook his head and whispered with exaggerated caution. "On the other side, as close to the Dragonwall as possible."

The Kashik looked ahead apprehensively, then began carefully picking a path through the rubble. Strict orders were given down the line not to talk or make any unnecessary noise.

Slowly, the men walked over the top of the mound and started down the loose slope on the other side. Each time a stone skittered down the slope, the men froze, waiting for a challenge. It was a painful hour before they reached the bottom.

The dark shadow of the Dragonwall stood out distinctly ahead of them. Koja and the men were close enough to make out individual soldiers at the top of the wall, outlined against the fires they had built to keep them warm. "Now?" hissed the Kashik at Koja. The lama only shook his head.

Stealthily the group moved forward from shadow to shadow, toward a nearly deserted section of the wall. At last, they were at the base of the fortification. Now, no one spoke. The guards watched warily as Koja sat, preparing his spell.

Alone, the priest carefully unwrapped the offering he brought—the khahan's sword and jewel-encrusted scabbard. He hoped this would be sufficient to contact the spirit. Very softly, he began to murmur sutras similar to those he had used earlier in the day. The lama spoke with exaggerated clarity and care.

At the closing words of the prayer, the priest fell into a trance. Quickly, something writhed out of the wall near Koja. At first it only seemed to be a small tendril of smoke, then it grew, expanding and swelling. Finally it coalesced into the transparent outline of a huge dragon. The long serpentine coils of its body lazily circled the priest. The flowing, fanged face stopped directly in front of him.

The dragon's body seemed to glimmer from reflected light, even though there was no light to reflect: The creature's scales shone with iridescent colors. The spirit was massive and yet moved with an ethereal grace. It looked solid, yet floated lightly. It was a spirit, unreal, yet appeared real before Koja's eyes.

Why have you summoned me? the spirit bellowed inside the priest's mind. Its voice was the voice of Koja's old master, and it triggered the priest's memories of lectures given in the great hall of the temple. The words made the stubble on the back of the lama's shaven head prickle.

"I call you in the name of the Illustrious Emperor of the Tuigan, Yamun Khahan," answered Koja as bravely as he could. His voice was barely a whisper, though this did not matter to the spirit.

Then he has come, came the voice, suddenly keen with interest. A claw, transparent to everyone but Koja, carved furrows in the earth in front of the priest.

"Are you the spirit that lives beneath the Dragonwall?"

I am the spirit of the Dragonwall! roared the dragon, now using the voice of the khahan in Koja's mind.

"Do you serve Shou Lung?" Koja asked, trembling before the might of the spirit.

I do not serve the Shou oxen! crashed the khahan's voice. The dragon twitched and thrashed, as if lashing out at some invisible foe. There was no mistaking the bitterness and hatred in its voice. Koja wished he could flee.

"Are you bound to serve them?" the priest timorously asked.

They are my captors! The priest cringed before the fury-laden voice that assaulted his mind. I must do as they bid.

"Did you speak to me—ask me to free you?"

I called to you in hope that you would bring your lord. Together you must free me. This time the dragon adopted the soft voice of Koja's mother.

"Why me?" Koja asked softly. "Why not another in the Tuigan camp?"

There was one other amongst the barbarians I considered, little priest. While she had the magical ability necessary, she cannot be trusted. The dragon growled ominously. No. Not trusted at all.

"Who do you mean, great spirit?" Koja said, a little desperation creeping into his voice. "Do you speak of the second empress, Mother Bayalun?"

I will not say whom, but I know that you should look to the bodies of the dead for answers.

"But—"

That is all I will say on that matter, the spirit roared.

"Why have you not sought freedom before?" Koja asked after a short pause. "There must have been others."

Of course there were, little priest. I showed them to you. Or have you forgotten your dream? The spirit had resumed using the voice of Koja's old master. Many have tried to break through my bonds, but all have failed. You saw them there. That was the price of their failure.

The dragon paused, fading slightly before Koja's eyes. And their failures have added to my pain. The Shou devil who tricked me and cast me into the wall placed a condition on my curse. I can contact anyone I think might help me to escape. However, everyone that fails to release me and exact suitable revenge for me against the Shou is allowed to punish me throughout eternity. In the spirit world they stand at my side and hammer away.

The dragon quivered with anger. So you see, little priest, I only contact those who have a good chance to succeed in crushing Shou Lung. Otherwise, they add to my torment.

"How can you be freed?" Koja asked.

I need a sacrifice. This time the spirit chose to answer with Goyuk's voice.

"A sacrifice?"

What does your lord offer his god? That is what I must have, the spirit demanded in Yamun's voice. Its tail lashed at the wall, its prison. No less, little priest.

Suddenly, the dragon flowed back into the wall, molding its body to the shape of the stone. But the spirit didn't fade. Instead it expanded, stretching along the length of the wall, past the watchtowers and through the gates. The twinkling of the watch fires played off its scales as its body rippled and grew, until the head and tail disappeared from sight. Slowly, the scales blended into the stone. The iridescent colors faded, the patterns of scale and stone blending together. I am the Dragonwall, the spirit whispered as it faded from sight.

Slowly the world returned to normal for Koja. The darkness of the night closed over the priest, driving away the unearthly glow that had surrounded the spirit. From above, Koja could hear the faint voices of the Shou sentries and the flapping of their robes as a cold wind blew across the battlements.

"Lama!" whispered the Kashik guide, seeing Koja stir for the first time in a half-hour. Nervously the man stepped up to Koja's side. "Are you well?"

Numbly, Koja nodded his head. He made ready to go, automatically reaching for the sword Yamun had given as an offering. It was gone. Several long scars marked the ground where it had been.

As slowly as before, the group moved away from the Dragonwall. To Koja their pace seemed agonizingly slow. He was in a hurry to tell Yamun what he had learned. If the khahan intended to free the spirit tomorrow, there was much to prepare.

It took almost two hours for Koja and his men to return to Yamun's camp. By now, it was early in the morning. Dawn would come in a few more hours. Still, the camp was not quiet. Riders were leaving for the mountains to cut timber for tomorrow's assault. The burial details were organizing for the task of burning yesterday's dead.

Koja arrived at Yamun's yurt dog-tired. The khahan was still awake. As soon as the lama arrived, Yamun had the weary priest ushered in.

"Sechen, see that we are not disturbed by anyone." The big man bowed and herded the guards out the door. With everyone out, Yamun sat beside the priest.

"Now, anda," the khahan asked earnestly, "what did you learn?" His voice automatically dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. His weatherbeaten face was flushed with excitement, making his scars stand out clearly.

"More than I expected, I think," Koja managed to answer. "There was a spirit there, and I talked to it. At least I think I talked to it." He rubbed his head to massage away a building headache. Fatigue was making it hard for him to think.

"Anyway," Koja continued, "we communicated. I was right, we can free it—or maybe just a little part of it. I don't know for sure. It was very big." The more Koja spoke, the more enthused he became.

"What? Explain yourself, priest. I've no time for puzzles. The army must attack soon." The khahan got up and paced, occasionally slapping his hand against his side.

"I am not sure I can, Yamun," Koja apologized before he began. "Do you remember the story I told you about the making of the Dragonwall?"

Yamun grunted.

"I'm not sure it was just a story. The dragon spirit I spoke to is the Dragonwall. The Shou did not build the wall from ordinary earth and stone. The Dragonwall was built with the body of an earth spirit." Koja swiveled as he spoke, trying to face the khahan as the warlord stalked about the yurt.

"But what's the point?" Yamun snapped.

"The power of the wall comes from the dragon spirit. Somehow the builders bound the spirit to the wall so it cannot leave, even though it wants to. It is trapped inside the wall."

"So?"

"So, it seems to think that you—and I—are special. In particular, it expects you to obtain its vengeance by crushing Shou Lung."

"This spirit is wise. After all, I will conquer Shou Lung." Yamun rubbed at his chin, considering the spirit's words.

Yamun's boastfulness didn't phase the lama. He knew the khahan was unshakable in his conviction. "Yamun," he continued, "we might be able to free it, at least in this area. Once the spirit leaves, the Dragonwall becomes nothing but an ordinary wall, perhaps even less. Remember, the spirit's power is part of what the builders used to hold the wall together—like mortar for stone."

"You're saying that if the spirit goes the Dragonwall could be torn down?" Yamun considered the information, trying to make sure he understood everything.

"There will need to be a sacrifice," Koja added.

"Of what?"

Koja thought back to the night in the thunderstorm. "Horses, I think. Fine ones. Isn't that the offering you make to Teylas?" Koja shivered at the thought, uncomfortable at being part of such a rite. Such sacrifices were not the way of the Enlightened One.

"Horses will be no problem," Yamun stated flatly.

"There was something else," Koja added, his voice calmer. "The spirit hinted something about a woman of great magical power. Perhaps he meant the second empress. The spirit said that she was ... not to be trusted." He looked at the floor, partially out of respect to the khahan and partially out of fear.

"She's never to be trusted," Yamun said, dismissing the lama's concerns.

Koja would not be put off. "No, it was more than that. It was how the spirit said it. I'm worried that someone—probably Bayalun—is planning something."

Yamun continued his pacing, showing no sign of surprise. "If I ask her, she'll only deny this."

Koja looked at the khahan. "I may have a way to check," he offered hesitantly. "You remember the guard and the Shou who were found dead before the battle?"

"What of them?" the khahan asked from across the yurt.

Koja stood up. "The spirit said something about looking to the dead for answers." The priest paused, then added, "Something didn't seem right about those bodies. The guard had his throat cut as if someone had surprised him. If that happened, who killed the Shou?" Koja found himself pacing in time with the khahan.

"Odder things have happened, priest," the khahan cautioned, stopping his stride. He set a hand against the tent post, examining the wood.

"Perhaps, Lord Yamun, but I had the bodies hidden away. I think it would be wise to speak with them."

"Do you really think these two have anything to do with Bayalun?" Yamun asked skeptically.

Koja scratched his head. "I don't know. Spirits often mislead people," he admitted, "but it is all I can think to do. I am ready. We could find out right now."

The khahan looked at the priest without really seeing him, his eyes focused on something intangible. One hand unconsciously played with the tips of his mustache. "Very well. Try. But you must be quick."

"Certainly, Yamun," Koja answered with a bow. Going to the tent door, the lama gave instructions to Sechen. The wrestler again stood watch, having arranged for Bayalun's guard.

It didn't take long for Koja and Sechen to set everything up in a secluded yurt where their activities would not be noticed. The bodies had been stored carefully, packed in snow to slow their decay. Working quickly, Koja stayed alone in the tent. While Sechen stood guard outside, the lama cast his spells. When he emerged, Koja looked drained. The night's activities were taking their toll on him.

"Remove the Tuigan warrior, but bring the Shou's head to Yamun's yurt," the priest ordered as he hurried past Sechen. "I must see the khahan."

Arriving back at Yamun's yurt, Koja wasted no time in describing what he had learned.

Grimly, the khahan looked toward the priest. "Chanar, too?" he asked, his amazement coloring his words.

"I am sorry, Yamun," the priest automatically mumbled.

"Sorrow is for the weak," Yamun suddenly growled.

Koja only nodded. "What will you do now?"

"Confront them," the khahan said. His face was set in a grim scowl. He called for a quiverbearer to summon Chanar and Bayalun. The servant hurried away with the message.

Neither Koja nor Yamun spoke while they waited. The khahan sat brooding, chin on hand. Koja tried to imagine the dark thoughts passing through Yamun's mind. He couldn't. Yamun's grim mood was beyond him. With a tired yawn, the lama resigned himself to waiting.

The servant returned and pulled back the door flap. "Khahan, they are here."

Yamun lifted his head. "Enter." Bayalun and Chanar came into the yurt. "Sit."

Leading the way, the second empress, leaning heavily on her staff, took her place. Chanar followed behind, then Sechen. The two plotters seated themselves on the respective sides of the tent, Bayalun alone at the head of the women's row, Chanar opposite her. Koja moved from his seat, out of Chanar's way. The general eyed the lama warily, then sat down at Yamun's feet. Quietly, Koja slid to the back of the yurt to stand alongside the impassive Sechen. The wrestler quietly opened the door, motioning an arban of soldiers to enter.

When all had taken their place, Yamun ordered a basin of black kumiss brought forward. Taking the ladle from the bowl, he held it high, presenting it to the four points of the compass, "Teylas grant us victory today."

The offering finished, Yamun took his seat. "Today we go to conquer a great enemy. Let the men be ready."

"May Teylas grant us victory!" Chanar said in response.

"He will, General," Yamun promised, glaring down at Chanar.

Slowly, Yamun extended the ladle to the last of the seven valiant men. Just as the general reached for it, Yamun tipped it, pouring the black kumiss onto the rugs.

"You were my anda," the khahan snarled, flinging the ladle out of reach.

Chanar was white-faced, and his mouth hung open in shock. "But, Yamun. I—"

"Quiet! I know of your treachery. You meet with the Shou. You plot with them."

"This is a lie, Khahan!" Chanar shouted, trembling where he stood. Yamun stepped forward on his dais, his broad frame towering over the ashen general. The khahan's eyes smoldered with fury.

Koja realized that Yamun, enraged with Chanar's deception, had momentarily forgotten Bayalun's presence. The priest looked her way. She had stepped back from the confrontation. The khadun's face was pale, but no fear showed in her eyes, only hatred and fury.

Bayalun took another step back, as if trying to distance herself from Chanar. Her hands reached into the sleeves of her robe. She withdrew a small stone and began to trace small figures into the air.

Koja realized that Bayalun was casting a spell. There was no one close enough to stop her in time.

The lama felt his pockets for some kind of weapon, something he could throw. He hit something hard at his chest, the paitza, his symbol of authority. Frantically, he yanked at the cord, pulling the heavy metal plate free.

"Bayalun!" the priest shouted, trying to warn the khahan. Yamun stopped his tirade, astonished by the lama's cry, just as Koja hurled the paitza across the yurt. The silver plaque thudded against the khadun's arm, jarring the stone from her grasp. Bayalun screeched with rage and pain, clutching at her side.

"Guards, seize the khadun! Bind her hands. Kill her if she attempts to speak!" Yamun pointed at the second empress. Bayalun's eyes narrowed to slits even as she froze where she stood. The guards were already around her, their sabers drawn. They grabbed the khadun's arms and pinned them to her side. She struggled weakly, but knowing Yamun was serious, said nothing. The guards quickly began lashing her wrists together.

Chanar, seizing the distraction, reached for his sword, determined to fight his way free. Before his sword cleared its scabbard, Yamun drew his own blade and laid the edge against the general's breast. Chanar turned slowly to face the khahan.

"Do not draw it, General, or I'll kill you." Yamun spoke coldly, his eyes steely. "Take the khadun out."

Chanar swallowed. "Why, Yamun?" he asked weakly. The remaining guards closed slowly around him. The general unbuckled his swordbelt and laid it on the ground.

Yamun stepped back and spat at Chanar's feet. "Tomorrow, you and my stepmother—" He turned his glare on the departing Bayalun. "You planned to destroy me."

"This is a lie! Who says this?" Chanar blustered, glaring at everyone around him.

Yamun sheathed his own sword and reached into a leather bag that sat beside his throne. From it he lifted the head of the Shou warrior Chanar had killed.

"This is your accuser," Yamun replied, tossing the head at Chanar. It fell with a thump at the general's feet. Chanar wavered then kicked the head aside with a snarl.

"A dead thing—nothing more. You are a fool, Yamun!" Chanar sneered, no longer trying to hide his contempt.

"Though spirits may trick us, the dead cannot lie," Koja said softly from the back of the yurt.

Chanar wheeled on the lama. "You—this is your doing!"

"No, Chanar. You did this to yourself," Yamun said behind him. "You were my anda—the last of my valiant men. I gave you honors and trust, and this is how you have repaid me." Yamun sank back onto his throne, chin sunk to his chest.

"You gave me nothing!" Chanar snarled. "I saved you from your enemies. I fought your battles. My father took you in when your own people drove you out. My warriors made you khan of the Hoekun. I have stood by you, and now you spend your time with a foreign priest while I ride as your errand boy! You will betray us all, send us to death against this Shou wall to satisfy your own ambitions." Chanar's chest heaved with emotion.