In his tent, Koja brought out his papers and began to make notes of the day's events and sights. He had only added a few pages since his arrival in Quaraband. Looking at the meager letters only reminded him of how little he knew of the khahan. Undiscouraged, he took up the writing brush and with quick practiced strokes started another letter.
My lord, Prince Ogandi of the Khazari. Greetings from your most humble servant, Koja, envoy to the Tuigan court.
For two days I have awaited the word of the khahan of the Tuigan. There has been no communication from him. He has received your offers, but gives no sign of his opinion toward a treaty. I can do little but wait.
During this time, I have ridden about Quaraband, as the Tuigan call this city of tents, attempting to learn more about their numbers and their way of life. Using the paitza given me by the khahan, I have been able to go where I wish, with one exception-the royal yurt.
Koja stopped to ink his brush and lay out another sheet of paper. He paused before touching the brush to paper again. That morning he had gone to Yamun's tent. There he was stopped by the Kashik dayguard stationed by the gates. Showing his paitza had had no effect on the man and all his protests had been in vain. The guard, in his black kalat, made it clear that Koja was not to be admitted, since the priest's pass bore only the tiger seal. This was apparently the pass used by low-ranking officials. Koja thought about penning the story down, then decided against it.
Perhaps no one was allowed within the royal palace except by invitation.
Traveling elsewhere in the camp, I had no such difficulty, though I have been in the constant company of an armed escort, a precaution of the khahan. I carefully counted tents, making a knot in a string for every ten. By now the cord is short, twisted with little knots. There are more than one hundred knots on the cord, and I still have not ridden the extent of the camp. The Tuigan are a numerous people, O Prince.
In crafts and arts, the people are more than mere barbaric savages. They have men skilled in working gold and silver, and from the wool of sheep make a wondrously warm and soft fabric called felt. At the same time, they are among the smelliest and most abhorrent people for their personal habits.
Koja set aside his brush and pondered what he knew of the Tuigan so far. What seemed like ages ago, when he had first learned he was to visit the Tuigan, Koja had assumed that they were all uncultured savages. Chanar's appearance at the Council of Semphar-dirty, foul-smelling, rude, and arrogant-certainly confirmed that impression.
The ride to Quaraband had been no better. The entire force had traveled at a killing pace, sometimes covering sixty to eighty miles in a single day. He had joined this rank, unwashed group at their meals of near- indigestible dried meat and powdered milk curds mixed with water. For three weeks the men never changed their clothes. It was not a pleasant journey.
The Tuigan, Lord, will eat anything, nor does this give them indigestion. They are great eaters of mutton and horsemeat. They eat much game, for they are most excellent shots with the bow. Mare's milk is used at every meal, made plain, curdled, fermented, and dried. A powder made from the curds is mixed with water or, I am told, mare's blood, to make a drink the soldiers use while they travel.
Koja stopped writing when he realized that his description was incomplete. In Quaraband, he had finally been exposed to another facet of his hosts. To be sure, they still seemed to be barbarians-cruel, dangerous, and impulsive-but Koja could no longer say they were simply uneducated and unskilled. There was a surprising variety to Tuigan life.
The first thing he noticed was that not everyone traveled by horseback and lived in yurts. Mixed among the tents were households who used great, heavy carts to haul their belongings. Some families owned carts but still used yurts; others had abandoned the dome-shaped tents and lived in houses built on their wagons. Other carts carried portable forges for the blacksmiths who set up shop along the water's edge.
These smiths were skilled craftsmen. Working with silver, they made decorated cups, bowls, saddle arches, buckles, pins, and an amazing assortment of other ornaments. Others worked leather, tanning and dying horse-hide for all uses. The women wove bright-colored cloth of wool and camel hair. Armorers were especially prized, and the priest had seen many fine examples of their art since he arrived.
Koja was just about to set these thoughts down when the guard outside summoned him to the door. Hurriedly putting the writing instruments away, Koja folded the slim sheets and put them in a letter pouch. Pouring water from a leather bag, the priest rinsed his inking stone and fingers, leaving a blue stain on his fingertips. At last, with what seemed proper dignity and decorum, he threw aside the tent flap to see who was there.
Outside were five soldiers wearing white kalats trimmed with blue, the personal guard of the empress of the Tuigan, Eke Bayalun. Koja noted their presence with a slight nod.
'Empress Eke Bayalun of the royal household requests you come to an audience with her,' stated the officer of the group, identified by the red silk tassels that hung from his cap.
'I am honored by the empress's invitation,' Koja answered with a bow. Judging from the man's tone, Koja decided the request was actually an order, so there was little to do but accept graciously. Gathering his things, the priest mounted the horse the guards had brought for him.
Koja was curious to meet the empress of the Tuigan. Eke Bayalun was, from what he had learned, the only surviving wife of Yamun Khahan. She was also his stepmother. Apparently, Tuigan custom required a son to marry his father's widow-or widows-mostly to ensure the women would be cared for. Her full title was Second Empress Eke Bayalun Khadun, denoting her status as Yamun's second wife. It seemed she took an active interest in the khahan's affairs.
Koja studied the guards she had sent. As empress, she was allowed her own bodyguards, much like Yamun's Kashik troopers. Koja noted, too, that Bayalun's troops must not like the khahan's bodyguard; they were widely skirting the tents of the Kashik. Finally, they came to a gate in the stockade, one Koja had not seen before. They rode through without stopping, waved on by the white-robed guards that stood to either side.
Inside the palace grounds, the escort dismounted and helped Koja from his horse. Leaving the horses behind with the soldiers, the officer in charge led him through the grounds to a large, white yurt. Before it stood a banner of white yak tails. The officer knelt quickly before this and then led Koja to the door.
The man pulled the door flap aside and informed the chamberlain that they had arrived. There was a delay, then the chamberlain returned to usher Koja into the empress's yurt. As he entered, the priest noticed two rag idols hung over the doorway. Near the one on the left was a leather drinking bag; by the one on the right, a bundle of grain. Offerings to protective spirits, he guessed.
This yurt was far more lavish than the khahan's spartan tent. The chalk-white walls were hung with patterned silks of red, blue, yellow, and white. One section of the yurt was blocked off by a carved wooden screen. The rugs on the floor were bright red, embroidered in gold and silver with leaflike curls. The two tent posts that supported the central frame were carved and painted to resemble what Koja thought were twining dragons and horses.
At the yurt's far side was a square platform, no more than a few inches high, covered with rugs. On the platform was a couchlike bed of carved wood inlaid with seashells. Blankets were draped over the curved ends. Perched on its edge was a woman, Eke Bayalun.
The second empress was a striking woman, far more graceful and attractive than Koja had imagined. Knowing her to be Yamun's stepmother, Koja thought she would be an old crone, her face bound up in wrinkles with blotchy age spots. Instead, Eke Bayalun was remarkably poised and youthful. Her face was only lightly wrinkled at the corners of the eyes and mouth, the skin stretched tight over her high cheekbones. There it was smooth and flowed with a rich buttery color. Unlike the other Tuigan women Koja had seen, with their soft, round cheeks and broad noses, Bayalun had a sharp, angular nose and chin, both straight and narrow. Her eyes, too, were different, more like those of the westerners he had seen at Semphar-lacking the fold of eyelid at the outer corner. The woman's eyes were sharp, bright, and clear. Her lips were thin and tinted with natural color.
Bayalun's hair was covered with a cowl of white silk, gathered high in the back and fanned out to drape behind her shoulders. The front of the silk wrapped loosely around the neck, and wisps of black and silver hair peeked out from under the cloth. Silver earrings, set with blue and red stones, barely showed behind the fabric. Her dress, in the style of the Tuigan, was high-necked with broad lapels and collar. The dress was black silk, while the collar was a bright red velvet. Over the dress Bayalun wore a long, sleeveless felt jacket, a jupon, decorated with silver coins and silken tassels. Rough woolen trousers and hard leather boots peeked out from underneath the layers of clothing. A wooden staff, topped with a golden, fanged face, lay across her lap. At Bayalun's feet were
