glow spread from the corral, then began to fade. The wind and rain drowned out the noises behind him. Finally spent, he collapsed like a rag doll, unable to move any farther.
As Koja lay there, the wind began to drop away and the howling rage subsided. The rain changed from a hammerlike pelting to a slower downpour. The water was still icy, and rivers of muck ran into the folds of his robe. Koja's body was chilled to its core. He clung to the ground, trembling, as the lightning and thunder diminished.
'Scribe? Where'd you go?' Yamun's voice carried easily to Koja.
'Here,' Koja called weakly, raising his head from the mud. Panting, he got to his feet. 'I am here, Great Khan. Wherever that is,' he added quietly. With the storm gone, it was too dark to see far.
'Come here, then,' ordered the khahan. He sounded unharmed by the storm.
Koja set off in direction of Yamun's voice. He could only hope he was headed the right way. 'Great Lord, where are you?'
'This way,' came the answer. Koja stumbled along until he found the corral. The fence was still standing, but the pen was silent. Following the fence around, the priest came to the gate. Waiting on the other side was Yamun Khahan, unhurt, although he wavered unsteadily. Spying Koja he said, 'Let us go,' offering no explanation.
Koja nodded automatically, concentrating on the pen. It was empty; there were no horses, living or dead. The lama looked at Yamun, startled, and then back into the corral, trying to see any sign of the horses or any marks left by the glittering blue fire. There were no steeds, and the mud was so churned up that it was impossible to tell what had happened. The fence showed no scorching or damage from the sparks. It was as if nothing had occurred.
'What happened?' Koja asked in amazement.
'Come on. We go,' Yamun said as he stepped through the gate. He moved slowly, with exaggerated care. His stiffness could have been caused by the late hour or the lightning. It was impossible for Koja to tell.
Koja remained insistent. 'What happened?'
Yamun guided the priest by the elbow, firmly squeezing it as they walked along. By now the wind was only a chilly spring breeze and the freezing drops of rain had given way to a fine drizzle.
'I talked with Teylas, my father, the Lord of the Sky.'
Koja stared at Yamun, believing him possessed or victim of some demented illusion. Perhaps Yamun meant it only figuratively, he decided. Many people, he knew, 'talked' to various gods and never received an answer. Lamas and wandering priests were the only ones he knew of who could contact the fearsome powers of the outer planes and expect some kind of reply.
Yamun noticed Koja's skeptical stare. 'I talked with Teylas.' The khahan's voice was filled with conviction.
Koja didn't say anything. There wasn't anything he could say that wouldn't sound patronizing or obsequious. He slogged up the muddy slope alongside Yamun in pained silence. 'You were glowing,' he finally said.
'Was I? I can never see what happens.'
'You've done this before?' Koja sputtered.
'Of course. Teylas demands his offerings.' The khahan waded through a wide puddle.
'But you're not hurt.'
Yamun stepped over a fallen cooking pot. 'Why would Teylas hurt me? I'm the Illustrious Emperor of the Tuigan, and a son of the Blue Wolf.'
Koja cocked his head at that, trying to decide if Yamun was serious or playing some grotesque joke.
'Teylas will not strike down his own clan.' Yamun splashed through the mud, not breaking his stride.
'Then what happened to the horses?' the lama finally asked.
'Teylas took them.' As Yamun spoke, his breath fogged the air. The temperature was dropping quickly in the wake of the storm.
'What?'
Yamun stopped walking and turned to face Koja. The khahan's shoulders sagged with exhaustion, but his face, especially his eyes, were still vibrant. 'The horses now serve Teylas in his realm. Don't you make sacrifices to your god?'
'You sacrificed them?'
'Teylas took them. I didn't touch them.' Yamun pointed out.
'Flaming blue sparks flew from your fingers,' Koja said, explaining what he saw.
'That was the power of Teylas,' Yamun replied. He turned and resumed walking toward the Great Yurt. They continued on in silence through Quaraband.
At last they returned to the door of the royal yurt. Yamun threw open the flap and was about to step inside when Koja stopped him.
'Please wait, Great Lord,' Koja blurted, barely observing proper courtesy. Yamun stopped in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder.
'What did Teylas tell you?' Koja asked, bowing slightly as he spoke.
Yamun looked at the priest. A small, sardonic smile crossed his face. 'He-'
'He what, Illustrious Emperor of the Tuigan?' Koja prompted, unable to suppress his curiosity.
Yamun looked slowly at the sky, and saw the starlight visible through the thinning clouds. 'He showed me the entire world, priest, from the great water in the east to lands of the west. I saw Shou Lung and this 'Cor-meer' you spoke of.' The khahan, eyes blazing, turned back to the priest, yet seemed to focus on something farther away. 'Green lands and forests, wailing to be conquered-and all I have to do is reach out and take them.'
Koja stepped back as Yamun spoke. The khahan's voice was slowly growing as the warlord saw his vision once again unfold before his eyes. 'Teylas promised you these things?' Koja ventured fearfully.
'Teylas promises nothing. He only showed what I could have. It's up to me to take it,' Yamun answered coldly. The priest's question dimmed the fire in Yamun's eyes. 'I will be emperor of the world.'
'The world is large and has many emperors, Yamun Khahan,' Koja pointed out. The priest shivered in his wet robes.
'Then I'll conquer them, and they'll be the slaves of my khans.' Yamun leaned slightly against the doorframe of the yurt. 'And you'll tell the story of my life.'
'What?' Koja gasped in astonishment.
'You will write the history of my rule. I will be a great emperor. As my historian, you will be honored by many.' Yamun stepped inside the yurt, and Koja followed him, still arguing.
'But-but-I am just an envoy, Great Lord. Surely there must be someone better.'
The nightguard, the same man who was in the yurt when they left, ran up to the door and dropped to one knee alongside the khahan. 'Great Khan!' he said in surprised relief. 'You live! I will tell my brothers that you have safely returned.'
'You'll stay until I dismiss you,' Yamun countered as he walked past. 'Koja of Khazari, you will write the history of my life-starting from right now. No one else will do.'
'Great Lord, I serve Prince Ogandi. It would not be right.' Koja hurried across the yurt.
'I don't care. You'll write it because I need you-who else would write the truth? Mother Bayalun? Her wizards? I wouldn't trust them. My generals? They're like me-they don't know this magic of writing. You-' He wagged his finger at Koja. 'You, I trust. And that is why I choose you.'
'Lord Yamun, I am very flattered, but you barely know me. I have a responsibility to my prince. I cannot serve you.' Koja realized he was knotting his fingers.
'You're in my tent, in my land. You will do what I say,' Yamun commanded. He began unwrapping the wet sash from around his waist.
'And if Prince Ogandi bids me otherwise?' asked Koja as he nervously squeezed the water from his cuffs.
'Then I will deal with your prince.' Yamun spoke in slow, measured words.
'I'm loyal to Khazari,' Koja pressed, his throat getting dry with tension.
'It doesn't matter. I trust you. There's no more discussion to be had of this.' Yamun tossed his wet sash aside and settled himself on his throne.
Koja rubbed his head in frustration. He was stymied. In desperation he tried another ploy. 'Isn't there a saying of your people about a man who tells the truth?'
Yamun looked about for his wine cup. ' 'A man who tells the truth should have one foot in the stirrup,'' he
