cracking wood. The gleaming brass helmet popped off his head and bounced across the floor. Koja sprang to his feet, hastening to the side of the stricken khahan. Quickly, he examined the fallen leader.
'He lives, thankfulness be to Furo, but he needs rest,' the priest announced as he tugged off Yamun's armor. 'Help me get him to bed.'
'You shouldn't have put him in that heavy armor,' the prince snapped as he hoisted the khahan to his feet, half-dragging him to his bed.
'The khahan insisted on it. I did not want it,' Koja shot back, trying to keep his temper under control.
Jad, too, bit back his words. 'That would be like father,' he conceded.
'He is strong-willed,' Koja noted as they laid Yamun's unconscious body on the bed. Goyuk stood near the door, making sure they were not interrupted.
'More than you know, lama,' Jad agreed. He looked Koja in the eye. 'I was wrong to accuse you.' Together, the pair finished making the khahan comfortable. When they were done, Jad called Goyuk from the door.
'Wise advisors,' he began, nodding to both Goyuk and Koja, 'Bayalun knows our tricks. What do we do now?'
'He knows about you!' Chanar snapped hysterically, his composure completely shattered. He looked at Mother Bayalun, sitting opposite him, his eyes flashing with panic and rage.
'He suspects, dear Chanar. If he could prove anything, we would be dead by now,' the matronly Bayalun corrected. Her voice was low and ripplingly musical. She took the general's hand in hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
They sat alone in a small yurt she had appropriated from one of the commanders of Yamun's bodyguard. Influential and important though the Kashik khans might be, not even they dared refuse the illustrious second empress. It was a simple matter for her to find a tent to her liking and then persuade its owner to vacate. Indeed, the khan had been most willing; he believed the khahan dead, making this a good time to be friendly and helpful to the khadun.
Still, the usurped accommodations were far from lavish. The tent was small and cramped, divided into two sections. Bayalun and Chanar sat in a small reception area. A pair of small wooden chests covered with rugs served as chairs. The khadun had disdained these, choosing instead to sit on the floor next to the oil lamp, which provided a feeble glow. A fine bow of antler horn and lacquered wood, and a quiver of red leather hung on the wall behind one seat, marking it as the master's spot. A suit of iridescent armor, carefully tended and decorated-perhaps the khan's finest possession-hung on a stand nearby. Weapons, helmets, shields, buckets, and utensils decorated the rest of the wall space.
A folding wooden screen separated the other half of the yurt from the reception area. On the other side of the screen was the private area-a small collapsible bed with a carved and inlaid headboard, and chests of clothing and war booty.
'How long before his suspicion gives way to certainty?' the general countered, slowly pulling his hand free from Bayalun's. He closed his eyes and rubbed hard at his temples, struggling to regain control of his emotions. Blood throbbed through the veins of his forehead and the shaven top of his head. His shoulders ached from the tension. 'Why can't we just raise our standard and attack him now-just get it over with? We should defeat him in battle, not with a game of words.'
'Patience, my bold warrior,' Bayalun gently urged. She smiled warmly. His sudden display of temper threatened all her plans and yet fascinated her. 'Forgive me. You are a man of deeds, and I have forgotten this. Blood and the sword are meat for you, not politics and words. Patience. There will be battles, I'm sure, but not yet.' Chanar could not help but notice the change in her tone.
The khadun moved closer to Chanar. It was important now, more than ever, that the general do nothing rash, that he be placated. She needed to control him, but let him think he was in command.
'Let Yamun suspect,' Bayalun continued, her voice dropping to soft murmur. 'We will find a way to distract the khahan.' She took Chanar's hands again and gently pulled the general to her. He gave a slight resistance at first, then took her in his arms. She stroked his tanned scalp and the thick brown braids that gathered over his ears. Caressingly, she tugged at his tunic, slowly undoing its clasps.
The sun only weakly warmed the layer of frosty dew that covered the ground the next morning. On the plain where the dead lay, the day's chorus of jackals and vultures was beginning. Listening to their cries, an almost comforting sound, Chanar stretched grandly in the doorway of Bayalun's yurt. There was a rustling noise behind him as the khadun stepped into the small reception area, adjusting her headdress.
'Yamun's death standard still stands, Bayalun,' Chanar commented. He did not turn from the doorway. Coming up behind the general, she peered over his shoulder.
'Good. It gives us more time. There are many things we must plan. Now, come and eat.' A small tray set with cups of salted tea, soured mare's milk curds, and chunks of sugar had been prepared by her guards. The second empress motioned Chanar to sit as she sipped at her tea.
Chanar could tell by the set of Bayalun's jawline that she had already been thinking of the distraction they needed. Taking up a cup, he settled back to listen, leaning comfortably against one of the chests.
'Did you see the khahan's face yesterday?' The khadun didn't wait for an answer. 'It was pale, and his voice was weaker than I have ever heard. He did not escape my assassin. He's been hurt.' She stared into her salted tea. 'He wants to be dead so he can heal. We must force him into the open before he is ready.'
Chanar nodded. 'Easily said, but everyone believes him dead.'
'I have a plan. Which khans are friendly to you?'
Chanar began to rebraid his hair. He thought for a few seconds while he worked. 'Several-Tanjin, Secen, Geser, Chagadai-'
'Enough. Talk to them. If the khahan is dead, then there must be a couralitai to select a new khahan,' the sharp-witted Bayalun explained.
'A couralitai?' Chanar exclaimed with a contemptuous laugh. 'It'll take months to gather all the khans for a council. By then Yamun will be healed and there won't be a need to pick a new khahan. Bayalun, you've lost your cunning.'
The khadun ignored his slight. 'No, your khans must insist on it now.' She touched his chest with her staff. 'Think about it. The Tuigan are fighting two wars-one with Semphar and one here. Things could go badly without a khahan. Yamun's sons might fight each other for the throne. A decision must be made immediately.' She lowered her staff. 'These are the things you must tell your khans to make them worry. Then they will insist on the couralitai. They will even believe it is the right thing to do. Now, do you see?'
Chanar stopped braiding and pondered her words. 'That's true. I could speak to the khans. But Yamun might let the couralitai happen. Jad might take command,' the general said, trying to see all the strategies, all the complications.
'The khahan will not let it happen. He will appear,' the second empress replied confidently.
'True. After all, Prince Jad might lose,' Chanar mused, thinking of his own supporters.
'That's not why Yamun will appear. It's his pride that will force him into the open. He won't let another be khahan, not even his own son.' Bayalun returned to her breakfast. 'That is why I know he will appear.'
'So, you force him to come out,' Chanar conceded. 'What good is that?'
Bayalun smiled, not the tender smile of the night before, but the scheming look Chanar had come to know. It drove a shiver of fear through him, the feeling he sometimes got on the verge of battle.
'When Yamun is weak and in the open, we will find a way to strike at him,' she promised.
Their plans decided, the two plotters set to work. All morning Chanar made calls on his fellow khans, dropping suggestions, hints, and ominous predictions. At first skeptical of Bayalun's scheme, Chanar was surprised at how receptive the khans were to his words. The couralitai gave them a course of action, more so even than Jad's funeral plan. The khans began to clamor for the couralitai, threatening to leave if their demands were not met.
It was late in the afternoon of the same day when Jad insisted upon a council of war. Koja tried to prevent it, arguing that the khahan was still too weak, but the prince would hear none of it.
'I want a meeting with my father,' he demanded. 'The army's breaking up and there's a new problem. Envoys from Manass have arrived to negotiate a peace. I don't know what to do. Goyuk should be there, too; he knows what's going on. And you, too, priest.'
