'She has anticipated your desire and has already given her judgment. They are to be sewn into the skins of oxen and sunk into the river, as is by custom.'
'She's clever and quick. She hopes this will appease me.' Yamun pulled at his mustache as he thought it over. 'Her judgment will do. Still, I want you to go back and tell her I'm not satisfied. For letting this happen, she must reduce the size of her bodyguard. I'll set the numbers when I return.'
'Yes, Khahan. Surely the second empress will be angry, Lord. Might she do something dangerous?' The officer had heard much of Bayalun's powers.
'I don't need to please her. She'll accept it because I'm the khahan,' Yamun said confidently. He turned and walked over to his captive. 'And did she say anything about him?' Yamun asked, pointing at the man on the ground.
'Seeing as he is within your grip, she allows you to deal with him as you want.'
Yamun looked down on the man. The fellow's eyes were wide, waiting for word from the khahan.
'He did not desert, Khahan,' the officer noted.
'True. He can live, but…' The khahan paused, thinking. 'He failed in his duties. Fetch men and stones. Crush one ankle so he cannot ride again. Let all who disobey you know that this is by the word of the khahan.'
'By your word, it shall be done,' answered the commander. Taking his horse, he left the circle to see to the arrangements.
The sound of the drum and flute brought Yamun's attention back to the shamans. The droning melody of their chant was just ending when he came back to them. Taking their horsetail wands, the shamans sprinkled the still body of the priest with milk and then stepped away from the pallet.
'Well?' demanded Yamun, only to be hushed by Crow-mask.
'Wait, we will know in a little while.' The shaman's voice echoed from inside the mask. The three squatted down on their haunches. Yamun stood behind them, fiddling with his knout. Finally his patience could take no more and he resumed his pacing.
After several minutes Yamun heard a cough. He turned and strode back to the pallet. Koja was struggling to prop himself up on one elbow. The shamans clustered around, their masks pushed up from their faces. They fussed over the priest, pushing him back down each time he weakly tried to sit up. Crow-mask turned to Yamun. 'He lives, Illustrious Khahan. The spirits of the Sky God, Teylas, have favored him with their blessing.'
'Good,' commented Yamun, stepping past the man. He looked down into Koja's wan face. Dried blood still caked the back of his skull, although the wound, magically healed, had already knit. 'Well, envoy of the Khazari, want to go riding?' He laughed at his own joke while Koja winced in pain at the thought.
One of the shamans tugged at the khahan's sleeve. 'Gently, Great Lord. He is still very weak.'
Yamun grunted in acknowledgment and squatted down beside the sickbed. He waved the shamans back so he could be alone. 'You live.'
Koja nodded weakly, tried to raise his head, and fell back in pain. 'What-where …?' His questions drifted off.
'You're outside Quaraband. I had you brought here so the shamans could work their spells on you.'
Koja took a deep breath and composed his thoughts. 'What happened to me?'
'You were thrown from your horse. My guard brought you in, almost dead. It took a little time, but the shamans healed your wounds.' Yamun's legs were getting stiff, so he rocked gently from side to side to stretch. 'The men who failed you have been punished,' he added, assuming the priest would demand justice without delay.
A cloud of confusion swirled in Koja's eyes, only in part from dizziness. 'Why have you done this?' Remembering his manners, he rephrased the question. 'Why has the khahan, Illustrious Emperor of the Tuigan, come here to see to the health of this insignificant one? You have bestowed great favor on me.'
Yamun scratched his neck, thinking of how to explain it. The reasons for his actions seemed obvious to Yamun, so he assumed that those same reasons were clear to everyone. 'Why? You're a guest in my yurt. It wouldn't be good if you died while you were here. People would say my tents were plagued by evil spirits.'
The khahan paused and smiled. 'Besides, what would your prince think if I sent him a message saying 'Please send another priest, the first one died'? I don't think he would be pleased.' Yamun picked up a pebble and rolled it between his fingers.
'And now,' Yamun said softly, 'I've saved your life.' The warlord tossed the rock aside.
Koja was at a loss for words. 'I am unable to repay you for this, Great Lord,' he whispered at last. A shiver ran through his body. His chest felt tight and restricted.
Yamun smiled broadly, the scar on his lip giving it a leering quality. His eyes remained squinted and hard. 'Envoy of the Khazari, I need a new scribe. The last one proved unreliable.'
Koja gulped painfully. 'Unreliable?'
'He forgot his loyalties.'
Koja remembered the bloody head and Yamun's quick justice. 'You mean-'
'He told me what others wanted me to hear,' Yamun interrupted. 'So, who do you serve?'
Koja hesitated in fear, then swallowed and answered. 'Prince Ogandi of the Khazari, Great Lord.' He closed his eyes, waiting for the blow.
'Hah! Good!' Yamun bellowed. 'If you'd betray your proper lord to serve me, what kind of loyalty could I expect?' He slapped his thigh in satisfaction. 'But now, you will do your prince service by serving me.'
'Great Khan, I-'
Yamun cut off his protests. 'Your prince ordered you to learn more about me and my people, didn't he?'
'Yes, but how did you know?' Fearful that his letters had been found, Koja struggled and finally managed to sit up.
'Because that's what I'd have you do. Now, as my scribe, you'll be very close to me and have the chance to learn many things, won't you?' Yamun scratched at his chest.
'Yes,' Koja answered hesitantly.
'Good. It's decided.' Yamun stood once again, rubbing the soreness out of his back. The khahan turned and looked toward the tents of Quaraband. 'You've met the second empress. What do you think of her?'
'She is … strong-willed,' responded Koja, picking his words carefully.
Yamun snorted. 'She tried to get something from you, I see. Remember, she will never give up, and she is powerful. Most of the wizards and shamans heed her words.'
'I will remember.'
'As my scribe,' Yamun continued, still looking away, 'she may seek your favor. Look over there.' He turned and pointed across the small circle.
Koja looked where Yamun pointed and saw the bound prisoner. Up to now the man had been mostly silent, except for slight whimpers of pain. Koja was barely able to recognize him as the rider from his escort. Yamun raised his hand, signaling to his guard. Two men stepped from the ranks. Each carried a large, flat stone. Seeing them, the prisoner began to scream and beg for mercy. Impassive to his cries, the men set to work.
With a quick cut of the knife, the guards slashed the bindings that held one leg. One man quickly grabbed the victim's leg, twisting the ankle upward, while the other Kashik slid one stone underneath. The prisoner, still screaming, tried to kick free, but he was held fast. The second guard raised his stone high over his head.
'Stop them, Khahan!' Koja cried out as he realized the guard was about to smash the stone down. The effort it took to shout caused him to fall into a wracking fit of coughing.
'Hold!' Yamun commanded. The Kashik lowered the stone he held over his head.
'Why should they stop?' Yamun demanded of Koja once the coughing passed.
'This man has done nothing. You cannot blame him for my accident,' Koja protested.
'Why not?' Yamun countered. 'He failed to protect you. Therefore, he must be punished. At least he will live. His comrades were drowned.'
His mind already weak from shock, Koja was amazed at Yamun's words. 'It is not his fault that I was hurt. I will not have him harmed,' the priest finally said with conviction. Exhausted, he fell back on the pallet.
Yamun sucked on his cheek as he listened to the priest. 'Do you request his life?' the burly warlord asked.
'His life? Yes, I do,' Koja answered as he lay on his back.
Yamun looked over to the prisoner. The man was watching them, his eyes filled with fear and expectation.
