Horselords by David Cook, Larry Elmore Page A

alongside us. He wants to know if he should send the chief to your ordu.”
    “What are they like?” Yamun tugged at his mustache, considering the offer.
    “They’re strong. Their chief stands twice the height of a man and likes to fight. I say we use them.”
    “What do you know of ogres, historian?” Yamun asked, curious to see if the priest had any insight on these beasts.
    Koja thought back to the scrolls in his temple that showed ogres as hideous, blue-faced monsters locked in combat with Furo. “They are treacherous and violent beasts. I would not trust them.”
    “Hmmm.” Yamun sat wrapping the long end of his mustache around his finger, considering the choices. “The Tuigan do not fight alongside beasts. Tell Tomke to have nothing more to do with them.”
    Koja scribbled out the order and passed it along to the sealbearer.
    “Unless you’ve got more to say about Tomke, tell me how Jad’s camp was,” Yamun commanded after he’d struck his seal on the last order.
    “Jad sets his camp at Orkhon Oasis, five hundred miles southeast of Tomke. His pasture and water are good, and he has held his men in hand.”
    Koja suddenly paid more careful attention. He didn’t know where the Orkhon Oasis was, but southeast was the direction of Khazari.
    “How many?” Yamun queried.
    “Five tumen—Hamabek, Jochi—”
    “Enough, I do not need their names. What does he have to report?” Yamun scratched at his brow.
    Chanar paused to pick at his teeth and spit into the mud at the edge of the carpet. “His scouts said they traveled south into the mountains. The peaks were so high that snow never melted from the tops. There they found a mountain that breathed fire and spit stones at them. There was a race of little bearded men there who lived underground and prayed to the mountain. These little men were wonderful craftsmen of iron. The scouts claimed when they tried to cross it, the mountain killed many of them with magical burning stones. I think they lied and they were afraid to go on.”
    “Mother Bayalun, have your wizards ever told you of a mountain like this?” Yamun queried.
    The second empress looked as if she were asleep. At Yamun’s words, she slowly raised her head. “They have never spoken of such a place, my husband.”
    Koja didn’t remember any fire-breathing mountains to the southeast, but Khazari was on the edge of a great range of peaks. Such a strange thing was certainly possible.
    “You should send a truth-seeker to question the scouts,” Chanar continued. “Jad is too lenient with them.”
    “How many scouts went out and how many came back?” Yamun took off his cap and set it on the ground.
    “I did not ask,” Chanar replied, as if it was beneath him.
    “Then how do you know they lied?” countered Yamun.
    Chanar sat silent, brooding over the khahan’s rebuke.
    “Is Jad ready to march?” Yamun finally asked.
    “His men are in hand, as I have said,” Chanar responded. He looked down, shielding the anger in his eyes from the khahan.
    Koja made notes, both for the khahan and himself. He needed to find out more about Jad’s—Prince Jadaran’s—army: where it was, and what Yamun intended to do with it.
    “And what of my youngest son, Hubadai? Has he heard from the caliph of Semphar?”
    “No, Yamun,” Chanar said, using the khahan’s familiar name. “The caliph apparently didn’t believe the demands I delivered at the council.”
    “Scribe, were my demands unclear?” Both Yamun and Chanar turned their attention to Koja.
    Koja cleared his throat and took the time to answer carefully. “Khahan,” he said, watching Chanar out of the corner of his eye, “General Chanar presented your demands quite clearly.”
    “What exactly did Chanar Ong Kho demand?” Bayalun asked suddenly.
    Koja’s mouth went dry as he wondered just why Bayalun was asking. “I apologize to General Chanar,” he began, “if my words do not do him justice. It has been some time since I heard him speak. He