Horselords

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'Sit,' the khahan said in a stronger voice, indicating a seat for Chanar beside Goyuk. Chanar hesitated, for the seat put him at a lower rank than the priest. He started to protest, then thought better of it.

There was a strained silence and, for a moment, Yamun's head sagged. The illustrious second wife watched the khahan with keen interest. Prince Jad, near the door of the yurt, silently drew his sword and caught the eyes of Sechen. The giant nodded slightly, indicating his readiness.

'Have this pipe, Great Lord,' old Goyuk said brazenly, sliding forward to hand Yamun the bowl he had prepared. Abruptly the khahan's head snapped up.

'I'll smoke,' Yamun answered, his voice sounding a little hollow. Taking the pipe, he lit it and took several long puffs, enjoying the sharp flavor of the exotic tobacco. Koja offered a silent prayer to the Ten-Thousand Protective Images of Furo. At the back of the yurt, the prince once again relaxed his stance.

'You've heard evil rumors, no doubt,' Yamun finally said. 'Rumors that assassins were sent to kill me. So, no doubt, you hurried here to prove to your own minds how wrong these rumors were.'

Bayalun studied the khahan closely, trying to see if his image was some illusion created by the priest. At the same time, she quickly reviewed the spells she had ready, just in case there were more surprises.

'Sadly, there was truth in the rumors. Have the guards bring the body,' Yamun commanded Sechen. The towering fellow left his position and exited the tent. Yamun continued, 'Yesterday, during battle, a creature tried to kill me. It failed because my anda-' At this the khahan tipped his head toward the priest. 'He fought to protect me. Let us drink to his fortune.' With a feeble wave, he had the servants bring ladles of black kumiss. Hands shaking, he raised his ladle to his lips and tipped his head back for a drink.

As he drank his face came out of shadow. Bayalun clearly saw the deathly color of his cheeks, which were gleaming with cold sweat from the mere effort of sitting up.

Chanar sat ramrod-straight, his hard, narrow eyes on the lama. The others raised their ladles and slurped the drink. The general, though, sat still, refusing to salute the priest.

As the group finished the toast, Sechen coughed discreetly from the door. Yamun acknowledged his presence and everyone turned to watch as the huge Kashik pulled open the door flap. There, wrapped in a freshly butchered horsehide, was the body of the hu hsien. The guards kept it just outside the door, so that it wouldn't pollute the khahan's yurt. Even knowing who, or what, the body was, Koja found the creature hard to identify. It's fur had already lost the luster it possessed in life. The gash in its chest was crudely closed, but the decay and corruption had not stopped.

Bayalun looked at the body briefly, only long enough to satisfy herself that it was the Shou assassin the mandarin had provided. It only confirmed what she now expected, so she easily concealed the few emotions seeing the body evoked. Mother Bayalun was disappointed. She had expected much more from the great empire of Shou Lung. Their token of support, a lone assassin, had failed. Now, she would have to press them for greater commitment.

Chanar, on the other hand, looked at the thing with disgust and fascination. He'd never seen such a creature. It didn't surprise him that Bayalun would use beasts and not men. He could see now why her plans had failed, relying as they did on such creatures.

'There are also rumors,' Yamun said thinly, interrupting the contemplation of the body, 'that you, Mother, were somehow responsible for this.' He paused. Unconsciously, the khahan tugged gently at his mustache, his body sagging forward as he did so. 'Of course, this isn't true. Still, it would end these rumors if you swore an oath of loyalty to your khahan.'

Bayalun glared coldly at her stepson. In icy, measured tones, she said, 'You would make your mother and your wife swear to you? Men will say you are without morals for this perversion.'

'Men will say worse of you if you refuse!' Yamun snapped, suddenly revealing surprising strength. 'Will the khans hear how you are afraid of Teylas's wrath?' Yamun braced himself once more against his knees.

Bayalun realized that she stood alone. Chanar could not, would not, come to her aid without arousing suspicion. Bitterly the woman agreed. 'Never before in our history has the khahan dared to demand this of his khadun. May Teylas find this offensive to his sight!' She turned and spat on the rugs.

'Teylas can make of it what he wants. Now, say the oath.' Yamun commanded. By his tone it was clear he would brook no more argument.

Bayalun stared at her husband, weighing her choices. She could hear his armor creak to his labored breathing. At last, she kowtowed before the khahan. With her face pressed into the rugs, she recited the ancient words.

'Although your descendants have only a scrap of meat thrown on the grass, which not even the crows will eat; although your descendants have only a scrap of fat, which not even the dogs will eat; even then my family will serve you. Never will we raise the banner of another to sit upon the throne.'

'As this is heard by the khahan, Illustrious Emperor of the Tuigan, so it is heard by Teylas,' Yamun murmured in response. His body sank slightly as he recited the words. 'Now, dear Bayalun, you're tired. This audience is over.'

Burning with humiliation, the khadun struggled from the floor, pushing herself up with her staff. Eschewing the traditional formalities of departing, she barged from the yurt, driving aside the guards with a few solid whacks of her stout wooden shaft.

'Chanar, you will stay. I have questions for you,' the khahan ordered when the general stood to go. Chanar froze, briefly panicked, and then slowly sat back down. He looked around, wondering if the audience was about to turn into some sort of trap.

Yamun deliberately let Chanar sit and wait. Just as Koja decided that the khahan had passed out inside his armor, Yamun spoke. 'General Chanar, my anda, why aren't you in Semphar advising Hubadai?' He let his voice trail away at the end.

'I was ill and could not travel,' Chanar answered stiffly. He placed his hands very carefully in front of him. 'I sent messengers telling you of my sickness.'

'You could've ridden in a cart, or were you too sick to travel at all?' Yamun asked.

'I am not an old man-' Chanar stopped suddenly and gave a quick glance to Goyuk. The khan's normally pleasant smile was clouded and grim. 'I am not a woman,' Chanar began again, 'who cannot ride. Valiant men do not follow oxen to the battle. I could not fight from a wagon.'

'It is true a warrior should ride into battle,' Yamun agreed. 'I'm pleased to see that you're feeling much better. Now that you are well, why have you come here?'

Wary of the khahan's maneuvering, the general picked his words carefully. He looked at the floor in mock humility.

'The khadun suspected an evil fate had struck you and came to learn the truth. I could not allow the khadun to travel without a proper guard.'

Metal scraped wood as the khahan shifted in his seat. 'So, you came for the sake of my mother. Learn this, khans,' Yamun said louder, addressing Goyuk and Jad. 'General Chanar has shown us the proper thing to do. It is true I have chosen two worthy andas, the warrior and the lama. Let us drink to their health.'

The kumiss was drunk and the toasts were made. Throughout the salutes, Koja tried to stay quiet and avoid Chanar's attention. There could be no misreading the angry looks the general gave him over each ladleful of fermented milk. Koja could also see that Yamun was weakening, the ladle shaking a little more each time the khahan raised it to his lips.

'Yamun,' the priest finally called out, 'Chanar is surely tired from today's traveling. However, he is too noble to complain, so let me speak for him and ask that this audience end.'

The khahan turned toward Koja, about to lash out at the priest for such impudence, when he suddenly saw the wisdom of the lama's words. Turning back to Chanar, he held one hand up to send the servants back to their places. 'My anda, Koja, is wise. I've kept you too long, Chanar Ong Kho. This audience is over now, and you may leave.'

The warlord sat gaping, then, with a crash, hurled the ladle across the yurt, spraying kumiss over the rugs. 'He does not speak for me! I need no one to speak for me. I am your anda!' he shouted. Not waiting for a reply, Chanar stormed out of the yurt, savagely shoving the guards at the door out of his way.

The door flap had barely been tied shut when Yamun toppled off the throne. Arms weakly flailing, he grabbed at the screen only to succeed in pulling it over with him. The khahan tumbled from the dais in a crash of metal and