out the ember with silver tongs and touched it to the incense. Within seconds, a thin stream of sweetly scented smoke rose up from the little stick. As the incense filled the air around him, Koja settled back and began chanting sutras. He had never used these prayers before, but knew they were the words needed to summon back spirits.
The others watched him silently. Still suspicious of the priest, Jad signaled to Sechen, making like he was drawing a bow. The wrestler nodded in understanding. Quietly he took up his bow and held it ready, just in case the priest attempted to cast a spell on the prince.
Everyone waited nervously for Koja to finish his chant. It seemed that the priest droned on forever. The words were hypnotic, seductive.
Koja was oblivious to the strange sound of his chant. All his concentration was spent in uttering the words Furo poured into his mind. Simply saying the chant required an effort that cramped the muscles of his face. His upper lip trembled, and the back of his neck tingled. He could sense forces swirling about him, called by the musical quality of the words. His vision narrowed to a single point.
Then, abruptly, the words stopped. Koja leaned forward and touched the cold, blue forehead of the dead wizard. A pale red light swelled out of the late Afrasib's slack mouth, winding slowly around the dead wizard's face. Gradually, the orb rose, trailing tendrils of light that continued to play over the cold face. As the orb moved, it elongated and increased in size.
Koja sat back in surprise. Summoning up dead spirits was new to him; he had no idea what to expect. No one at the Red Mountain Temple ever mentioned a glowing light like this. As he watched, the light shimmered and expanded, slowly forming into something-a wispy, transparent form of Afrasib. The spirit opened its eyes, black voids, and stared directly at Koja. The lama shuddered as he looked into the dark pits.
The priest spoke over his shoulder to the others, behind him. 'The spirit is bound here for a short time,' Koja whispered, afraid he might disturb the thing that hovered over Afrasib's body. 'Quickly, what are your questions? I can only ask a few, so choose them carefully.'
'Ask who it worked for,' Jad hissed, sitting stiffly upright, concealing his fear.
Koja turned back to the spirit. 'Who ordered you to kill Yamun?'
'The one who wanted it done,' the spirit answered. Its voice came from midair, somewhere in the vicinity of its former mouth. It was Afrasib's voice, but cold and monotone.
'Ask the name,' urged the prince.
'What is the name of the person who ordered this killing?'
'Ju-Hai Chou.' The words drifted softly throughout the gully.
'Who is Ju-Hai Chou?' Jad wondered aloud. 'No, don't ask that. Ask about Bayalun.'
'Did Eke Bayalun know of the attack?'
The spirit languorously replied. 'Mother Bayalun knows many things. Would she not know this?'
'Now the spirit questions us,' the prince muttered in disgust.
'I cannot hold him much longer, Prince Jadaran,' cautioned the lama. Sweat had broken out on his brow, and the strain of keeping the spirit bound was telling on him.
'Who is Ju-Hai Chou?' Goyuk broke in, taking up Jad's previous question. 'This may tell us more.'
'Who is Ju-Hai Chou, the one who ordered you to kill Yamun?' Koja strained to keep the spirit from slipping away. The light wavered and dimmed, then returned.
'The hu hsien,' the voice echoed faintly. The image started to dwindle.
'What was his plan? Quickly, priest, ask!' Jad shouted, sensing that the contact was fading.
'Afrasib, what was Ju-Hai Chou's reason?' Koja blurted out.
'He was sent to help,' the spirit intoned.
'Who sent him?' Koja quickly asked, before the spirit could fade.
'The Minister of State,' was Afrasib's cryptic reply.
'Who was Ju-Hai Chou help-' Koja didn't finish the question. The light had shrunk in on itself, leaving only a small point that hung in the air for a few more seconds and then disappeared completely. The priest slid back from the dead bodies, thankful to Furo that it was over. 'I am sorry. The spirit escaped me. It was very strong.' He pulled off the scented cloth and bowed to the prince in apology.
Jad grunted, sounding a little like his father. 'What about the other? We can learn more from him.'
Koja rubbed his shaven head, and looked at the body of the fox-man. The gaping gash that shattered the creature's chest was black and thick with flies. 'I do not think it will work. He is not a man. His spirit is not the same.'
'Then we've learned nothing,' Yamun's son said in disgust, brushing the dust from his kalat as he stood.
'We have a name-Ju-Hai Chou,' the priest pointed out. He was relieved that no names from Khazari had come up.
'And we have a mandarin's title,' Goyuk added. 'Big herds grow from small sheep.'
'Perhaps,' Jad conceded as he climbed back up the bank. 'Still, I don't see anything useful in it.' The rest of the group got up and followed.
They rode back to the khahan's camp with little conversation. The midday sun beat heavily on the corpses covering the battlefield. The stench grew stronger. Koja never before realized that war left behind such death and decay. He knew that some men died in the battle and others often suffered hideous wounds, but the aftermath was always something forgotten, ignored. Nobody ever told of the horses' screams or the bloated bodies of the unburied that covered the ground.
The group reached the camp without any interruption, detouring only a few times to avoid some packs of jackals that refused to flee from their approach. As they wound their way back through the warriors' tents, the men came out to greet them. The troopers stood quietly with their heads downcast as the prince passed. At first, the men seemed mournful for the loss of Jad's father, their khahan. Watching them line the way, the priest could sense an uneasiness among the men. The mourners fixed their gaze on Jad, as if waiting for him to do something.
From the back of the crowd, a man suddenly broke into an anguished chant, improvising a lament to the fallen khahan.
'The winds of heaven are not balanced.
The body of birth is not eternal.
'Who drinks the sacred water of life?
In our short lives, let us enjoy.
'The winds of heaven are beyond touch.
The lives of men are not eternal.
'Who drinks the sacred water of life?
In our short lives, let us enjoy.'
The singer's voice cracked as his lyric soared and trembled. Quickly the other men took up the chant, repeating the singsong verses, embellishing on them. Voices broke above the mass to carry the words higher.
The song spread ahead of the prince, greeting him at every turn on the way to the khahan's tent. It seemed that every trooper turned out along their march. Khans knelt in respect as the prince rode by. Men, even the horribly wounded, struggled to get to the front of the press, where they could make themselves seen. Koja watched as a crippled trooper, his foot lost in yesterday's battle, was carried forward by his companions, his pallet hoisted over their heads. It seemed to take all his effort to sing the simple lyric, but sing he did, hoarsely bawling out the words.
A surging mass of men followed them up the hill to the khahan's tent. As their numbers grew, the tension increased. 'Let us see the khahan!' someone screamed. 'Let us see his body!' There was a grumbling swell underneath the song as more and more men called out to see the khahan's bier.
'Guards, keep them out!' Jad shouted over the noise as he entered Yamun's compound. The dayguards dashed forward, forming a triple line around the gate. Their weapons glinted in the sun, a bristling line of sword points. Officers on horseback shouted commands, their steeds prancing behind the line. The menacing black forms of the dayguards pushed forward, forcing the crowd back. Jad and the rest of his party disappeared into Yamun's tent, Sechen at the rear.
