Horselords

such finery with them. It was likely, too, that this was the first time he had seen them in clothing so clean.

'Welcome, Koja,' Yamun said to the priest. 'Today we'll test the strength of this Dragonwall.' The khahan let his horsewhip dangle from his wrist as he pointed toward the squadrons of mounted men forming up on the slope below them.

The riders were advancing in separate columns lined out abreast of each other instead of the continuous stream they used when on the march. The war standards of the minghans and tumens were unfurled to flutter in the breeze-streamers of silk, horsetails, tinkling bells, and flashing mirrors hung from cords.

The troopers carried their full war gear with them: a long, springy lance; curved sword; two powerful, compact bows; and a pair of quivers packed with arrows. There were whole blocks of armored men, but the majority wore the same clothes they had every day, a heavily-padded kalat being their sole protection. A few carried shields, but most of the riders disdained these, for the shields interfered with their ability to shoot a bow.

Finally, the khahan joined the line of advance, the khans following him. Today was the final march on Shou Lung, several hours out from the Dragonwall. All through the ride, the khans were strangely quiet. Most rode in silence, gathering their thoughts, or held huddled conferences on horseback with their lieutenants. Gradually, as the group drew closer to the Dragonwall, the khahan gave the commanders their final orders and dispatched them to their units.

By the time the Tuigan reached the last ridge before entering onto the plain, there were only three warriors remaining among the messengers who surrounded Yamun: Chanar in his brilliant silver armor, who was to command the left; toothless old Goyuk, commander of the right; and Sechen, who was in charge of Yamun's personal bodyguards. The khahan himself decided to command the center this day. Koja sat on his horse slightly behind this group, not wishing to interfere.

A messenger, barely more than a boy, wearing the white robes of the empress's guard, rode up on a panting mare and made his obeisance to Yamun. The khahan waved him to speak.

'The shining daughter of heaven, the second empress, has sent me to tell you that she has summoned her sorcerers from across the land and they have taken their positions throughout the army.' The youth sniffed and wiped his runny nose on a dirty sleeve.

'This is good. Tell her to put the wizards under the command of the khans,' Yamun ordered.

The messenger nervously sat straight in his saddle. 'The second empress has ordered me to say that she will keep them under her command. The khans do not know the powers of the mages and will use them badly.' The boy sat terrified in his saddle, ready to flinch at the slightest move from anyone.

Yamun, who had already gone on to other business, suddenly turned his attention back to the messenger. 'She will do what I command!' he snapped. The boy swallowed in terror, even though his mouth was dry.

Chanar rode forward, apparently trying to soothe the situation. 'Lord Yamun,' he began formally, 'perhaps Eke Bayalun is right. Many of the khans do not like the wizards. They would not use them well. Perhaps we should let her command.'

Yamun refused to consider the suggestion. 'I don't trust her. She's filled with treachery.'

'We may need her wizards today,' Chanar warned, nodding toward the Dragonwall. 'You can always assign someone to see she carries out your orders correctly.'

'Is very late to argue,' Goyuk added, trying to defuse this crisis before the real battle started.

Reluctantly, Yamun let himself be persuaded. There was no time left for debate, and he believed that the wizards would not be important in the battle anyway. 'Assign one arban of the Kashik to each wizard,' the khahan decided.

'Send a jagun of the Kashik to Bayalun. Go, boy, and tell her the men are for her protection.'

After the courier had ridden off, Yamun continued his instructions. 'Tell the Kashik to kill any wizard, even Bayalun, if any treachery is attempted.' Turning to the priest, Yamun then surprised Koja by asking, 'Anda, can your god let you see the future?'

Initially flustered, Koja quickly replied. 'Sometimes Furo can grant such insight.'

'Then can he tell us the outcome of today's battle?' Yamun inquired, tugging at his mustache. 'Bayalun has not seen fit to bring any of her shamans along to provide the service.'

Koja thought for a moment, reviewing the spells Furo had granted him this day. 'Perhaps not a perfect answer,' he finally ventured, 'but Furo might grant some hint of the fortunes of this place. I cannot promise any more.'

'Whatever, just do it.' The khahan was not particularly interested in the technical aspects of Koja's spells. He was only interested in the results.

'I will need to be closer to the Dragonwall.'

'Just ahead, over that ridge,' Yamun said with a nod. 'Sechen, escort him there and see that he is unharmed.'

'By your word, it shall be done,' said the big man. Sechen guided Koja and a band of his guards up the last yards of the broken slope until they reached an outcropping of brush. There they found a shaded spot where Koja had a clear view of the wall.

They were less than a mile away from the great Shou fortification. The Dragonwall stretched in a long unbroken line, greater and more massive than it had appeared from the top of the pass. The brick used to build it gave the wall a dull yellow-brown color. Koja guessed it stood thirty feet high. The top was toothed with crenellations. A roadway ran the length of the top, broad enough for a chariot to ride down. At regular intervals, about one mile apart, stood square towers, taller than the surrounding wall. These were obviously watchtowers.

The trail from First Pass Under Heaven wound down from the heights to a massive gate set in the wall. The doors themselves were fully as high as the wall, while the towers were even higher. These gatehouses, smooth- surfaced and rectangular, tapered toward the top. Arrow loops, barely visible on the lower levels, were replaced by balconies as archers' positions higher up. An arching bridge stretched between the towers, over the heavy wooden gate.

Briefly, Koja considered telling Yamun that his spell revealed their situation was hopeless. If the trick worked, he could save untold lives. Morally though, he knew he must work the spell. He could not presume to speak for Furo; such an act would be blasphemy. Besides, he doubted his prediction could sway Yamun's resolve.

Bright flashes of light sparkled on the plain. 'They've deployed outside the gate,' observed Sechen, whose eyesight was much better than Koja's. Now that it was pointed out, the priest could see the men arranged in a long line. The flashes must have been from their armor and weapons. 'They know we're here. Work quickly, historian.'

Koja began a breathing exercise to calm his mind. It took a long time, but Sechen was too busy counting the standards of the enemy to notice. Finally, the priest produced a scroll he had made that morning. It was covered with special prayers. Holding it up to the east, he read it aloud, then carefully repeated this process to the other points of the compass. Finished, he closed his eyes and stood quite still, his body unconsciously going completely rigid. Sechen and the guards waited, all afraid to say anything lest they disturb the spell.

At last his overtensed muscles sagged and relaxed, and the priest staggered backward. Blinking, he opened his eyes and stared at the Dragonwall. Furo's power was filling his sight, letting him see the great balance of all nature. All things, living and dead, animal and mineral, were filled with the force of the Enlightened One. Some, such as an ordinary rock, contained only a little, while others-men of powerful will, in particular-glowed brightly with inner power. By seeing these auras through the divine inspiration of Furo, Koja hoped to 'read' the harmony of the land, and, perhaps, predict the battle's outcome.

At that moment, Koja saw that a prediction would not be difficult to make.

Before the priest's eyes blazed the aura of the Dragonwall itself, as blinding as the sun. Its brilliance blotted out all other auras, even that of the Shou army deployed on the plain. The intensity was beyond anything Koja had experienced. The priest was dumbstruck. The aura shone from all the way underneath the foundations of the fortification to the topmost towers. The burning fire stretched all along the length of the wall, and in it Koja could barely make out a form, a shape struggling, as if against invisible bonds.

Painfully, Koja forced himself to stare into the heart of this magical fire, to discern what lay hidden in the wall. A claw dug deep into the earth. A ridge of spines reached to the topmost battlements. A pattern of scales blended with the brick and stone. Through it all, Koja felt a power watching him, wrathful and tortured at the same