composure.
The captain of the guard pulled the tent flap aside. In his hands was a bloodstained bundle-a simple leather bag. Wordlessly he entered and knelt before the khahan. 'As you ordered, so is it done,' the captain said as he unwrapped the package. There, in the middle of the cloth, was the head of the scribe.
'Well done, Captain. Take his body and feed it to the dogs. Set that,' he sneered, pointing to the head, 'on a lance where everyone can see it.'
'It will be done.' The captain looked at Koja in curiosity, then took the head and left.
Yamun let out a great sigh and looked at the floor. Finally, he turned to Koja. 'Now, priest, bandage my hand.'
Still trembling slightly, Koja took out his herbs and began to work.
2
Yamun trotted his horse, a sturdy little piebald mare, through the camps of his soldiers. Alongside him rode Chanar on a pure white stallion. From behind came the jingling clatter of reins and hooves as five bodyguards, black-robed men of the elite Kashik, followed closely behind.
It had been days since the audience with the priest from Khazari, and Yamun was still reflecting on the events. He scowled as he pondered the contents of the envoy's letters. The prince of the Khazari wanted a treaty between their two nations. Yamun didn't know if that was desirable, and, before deciding, he needed to know more about the Khazari-their numbers, strengths, and weaknesses. 'The sleeping rabbit is caught by the fox,' or so went the old saying. Yamun had no intention of being lulled to sleep by mere paper.
Dismissing the topic in his mind, Yamun slowed his horse and looked with pride on the endless sea of soldiers' tents and campfires. This was his army. He had organized the tribesmen into arbans of ten men, then jaguns of one hundred, further still to minghans of one thousand, ending finally in the tumen, the great divisions of ten thousand men. Every soldier had a rank and a place in the army, just as Yamun planned. Under his command the men of the steppe were transformed from raiding bands into a tightly disciplined army.
The khahan reined in his horse, bringing it to a stop just in front of a small group of soldiers gathered around their fire. The entourage with him clattered to a stop, too. The squad of ten men who sat around the fire leaped to their feet.
'Who is the leader of this arban?' Yamun demanded, tapping his horsewhip on his thigh. The khahan's horse pranced uneasily, agitated by Yamun's energy.
One man hurriedly ran forward and flung himself to the ground at the mare's hooves. In the warm spring day, the man wore only his woolen trousers and kalat, a stained blue tunic trimmed with red. A conical bearskin cap, decorated with goat-hide tassels, identified the man as a common trooper of Chanar's tumen.
Satisfied with the trooper's response, the khahan waited for his horse to quiet down. 'Rise, brother soldier,' he said, trying to put the nervous trooper at ease.
'Yes, Great Lord,' mumbled the man, pushing himself up from the dirt. Even sitting upright, the man kept his eyes downcast. Yamun could tell the man was a tough and seasoned soldier by the large scars on his cheeks.
'Fear not, warrior,' Yamun spoke soothingly. 'You're not to be punished. I've some questions, that's all. The commander of your jagun recommended your bravery and skill. What's your father's ordu?' Yamun whisked away the flies from his mare's mane.
'Illustrious Emperor of the Tuigan, my father was born into the Jebe clan.' The trooper bowed again on completing his words.
'Jebe's ordu has many tents, and he's served me well in the past. What's your name?'
'Hulagu, Khahan,' the trooper answered, bowing again. 'Very well, Hulagu. Stop bobbing up and down and be a soldier.' The man sat up straighter, obedient to the words of his khahan. 'Jebe Khan keeps his ordu to the east, near the Katakoro Mountains, doesn't he?'
'Yes, Great Lord, in the summertime when the pastures are rich there.'
'Have you heard of the Khazari? I'm told they live in those mountains.' He stroked the neck of his horse, keeping it calm.
'This is true, khahan. We sometimes take their sheep and cattle,' the trooper answered with pride.
Yamun smiled. Raiding and rustling were old and honorable traditions among the Tuigan. As khahan, he could barely keep the different ordus of the Tuigan from stealing each other's horses. Any Tuigan caught stealing from another was executed on the spot, but the law did not apply to non-Tuigan. Yamun tucked his horsewhip into his boot-top. 'Are they easy to raid?'
'My father says it was not as hard as raiding the ordus of Arik-Boke and Berku-or so he was told; my father never did this,' Trooper Hulagu added hastily, remembering the penalties Yamun had set. 'The Khazari aren't horsemen and don't chase us very well, so it is easy to get away. But they live in tents of stone and keep their sheep in pens at night, so we could only raid them when they took their flocks out to pasture.'
'Are they a brave people?' Yamun asked, dropping his horse's reins to let it graze.
'Not as brave as the Jebe,' the man answered with a trace of boastfulness. 'They would fight, but were easy to trick. Many times they did not send out scouts, and we could fool them by driving horses ahead of us to make our numbers seem much larger.' The trooper wriggled a little, trying to keep his toes warm in the cold mud.
Yamun stroked the fine beard on his chin. 'Are there many of them?'
The man thought for a bit. His eyes glazed as he started imagining numbers larger than twenty.
Finally, the trooper spoke. 'They are not so numerous as the tumens of the khahan nor do they fight as well,' he said, breaking into a big smile at what he thought was his own cleverness.
Yamun laughed at the man's answer. What he really needed, as he had known from the start, was solid information on who and what the Khazari were like. Trooper Hulagu's memory was certainly not going to be enough. 'What's the distance to Khazari?' he asked. Again the man thought, although this time Yamun suspected he knew the answer.
'Illustrious Emperor of the Tuigan, when I left my ordu to join the magnificent Son of Teylas's armies, I rode for three weeks, but I did not hurry and stopped many days in the yurts of my cousins along the way. The trip could be made faster.'
'Undoubtedly,' Yamun said, half to himself. The squat warlord paused, although he already knew what needed to be done. Leaning on the pommel of his saddle, Yamun turned to General Chanar beside him. 'Chanar Ong Kho, this man and his arban are to ride with all haste to the Katakoro Mountains with as many men as you think wise to send. I want to know the numbers, strengths, and weaknesses of the Khazari. See that the scouts have fresh horses and passes. They must return in five weeks, no later.' Chanar nodded in understanding.
Just as he was about to go, Yamun turned back. 'And send someone from my Kashik who can count. Make him their commander. Let all who disobey you know this is by the word of the khahan.' Yamun added the last automatically, a formula that signified his orders.
'By your word, it shall be done,' responded Chanar mechanically, according to the formula of etiquette. 'Is that all my men are to do?' the general asked.
Yamun stopped his horse and stared back at Chanar. 'You, General Chanar, will ride to the ordu of my son, Tomke, and observe his camp. I want to know if his men are ready. Take the men you need and go immediately. Teylas will protect you.'
'By your word, it shall be done' Chanar responded. The discussion finished, Yamun tugged his mount's reins and galloped off.
The trooper still cowered at the feet of Chanar's horse.
'Get going!' the general bellowed. The terrified Hulagu leaped to his feet and scrambled back toward his camp. With his boot, the trooper roused the men of his arban, sending them tumbling after their gear.
'See to the details,' Chanar ordered an aide nearby. With his own preparations to make, General Chanar wheeled his horse around and galloped away, headed toward his own yurt.
