Horselords by David Cook, Larry Elmore Page B

blood still caked the back of his skull, although the wound, magically healed, had already knit. “Well, envoy of the Khazari, want to go riding?” He laughed at his own joke while Koja winced in pain at the thought.
    One of the shamans tugged at the khahan’s sleeve. “Gently, Great Lord. He is still very weak.”
    Yamun grunted in acknowledgment and squatted down beside the sickbed. He waved the shamans back so he could be alone. “You live.”
    Koja nodded weakly, tried to raise his head, and fell back in pain. “What—where … ?” His questions drifted off.
    “You’re outside Quaraband. I had you brought here so the shamans could work their spells on you.”
    Koja took a deep breath and composed his thoughts. “What happened to me?”
    “You were thrown from your horse. My guard brought you in, almost dead. It took a little time, but the shamans healed your wounds.” Yamun’s legs were getting stiff, so he rocked gently from side to side to stretch. “The men who failed you have been punished,” he added, assuming the priest would demand justice without delay.
    A cloud of confusion swirled in Koja’s eyes, only in part from dizziness. “Why have you done this?” Remembering his manners, he rephrased the question. “Why has the khahan, Illustrious Emperor of the Tuigan, come here to see to the health of this insignificant one? You have bestowed great favor on me.”
    Yamun scratched his neck, thinking of how to explain it. The reasons for his actions seemed obvious to Yamun, so he assumed that those same reasons were clear to everyone. “Why? You’re a guest in my yurt. It wouldn’t be good if you died while you were here. People would say my tents were plagued by evil spirits.”
    The khahan paused and smiled. “Besides, what would your prince think if I sent him a message saying ‘Please send another priest, the first one died’? I don’t think he would be pleased.” Yamun picked up a pebble and rolled it between his fingers.
    “And now,” Yamun said softly, “I’ve saved your life.” The warlord tossed the rock aside.
    Koja was at a loss for words. “I am unable to repay you for this, Great Lord,” he whispered at last. A shiver ran through his body. His chest felt tight and restricted.
    Yamun smiled broadly, the scar on his lip giving it a leering quality. His eyes remained squinted and hard. “Envoy of the Khazari, I need a new scribe. The last one proved unreliable.”
    Koja gulped painfully. “Unreliable?”
    “He forgot his loyalties.”
    Koja remembered the bloody head and Yamun’s quick justice. “You mean—”
    “He told me what others wanted me to hear,” Yamun interrupted. “So, who do you serve?”
    Koja hesitated in fear, then swallowed and answered. “Prince Ogandi of the Khazari, Great Lord.” He closed his eyes, waiting for the blow.
    “Hah! Good!” Yamun bellowed. “If you’d betray your proper lord to serve me, what kind of loyalty could I expect?” He slapped his thigh in satisfaction. “But now, you will do your prince service by serving me.”
    “Great Khan, I—”
    Yamun cut off his protests. “Your prince ordered you to learn more about me and my people, didn’t he?”
    “Yes, but how did you know?” Fearful that his letters had been found, Koja struggled and finally managed to sit up.
    “Because that’s what I’d have you do. Now, as my scribe, you’ll be very close to me and have the chance to learn many things, won’t you?” Yamun scratched at his chest.
    “Yes,” Koja answered hesitantly.
    “Good. It’s decided.” Yamun stood once again, rubbing the soreness out of his back. The khahan turned and looked toward the tents of Quaraband. “You’ve met the second empress. What do you think of her?”
    “She is … strong-willed,” responded Koja, picking his words carefully.
    Yamun snorted. “She tried to get something from you, I see. Remember, she will never give up, and she is powerful. Most of the wizards and shamans heed her