David Cook - Horselords

"Does he suspect?" said a soft, yipping voice from the darkness.

Mother Bayalun looked up slowly, not showing any surprise at the new speaker. "No, but that's through no help from you. Your clumsiness almost gave you away," she snapped. "What are you doing here?"

A large fox, honey brown in color, walked into the light. Moving opposite Bayalun, it settled back on its haunches. With its front paws, it produced a long pipe from the leather bag it carried slung around its neck. "I wish you people would move your tents. It would make things a lot easier. I'd change out of this form, but these damned magic-dead lands prevent me."

"Why are you here, you insolent creature?" Bayalun demanded, thumping the rolled-up rug beside the fox-thing.

"My master sent me," it explained as it stuffed tobacco into the pipe and tamped it down with a paw more human than foxlike. "Are we stuck with that dolt?"

"Who?"

"The buffoon who was just here," the fox explained. He dug into his bag and pulled out a smoldering ember, casually holding the burning coal in his paws. "Stole it from a fire outside," the fox offered before she could ask. He set the coal to the pipe.

"Don't light that in here!" Bayalun snapped. The fox looked up at her in surprise. "The smoke will give us away."

"To whom? Your guards? They're the only ones outside." The fox drew a long puff on the pipe, blowing out sweet smoke from the combination of tobacco and strange herbs. "This shape lets me get around easily, but it is so tiring. Especially when everyone wants to chase you." It puffed on the pipe again, watching Bayalun's increasing irritation with an unconcealed glee.

"You take too many risks! Someone saw you?" Bayalun asked with alarm.

"Some saw a fox, nothing more," the creature replied confidently.

"Carrying a bag!"

"I was careful. Stop worrying like an old woman. I've done this all my life, which is longer than yours-even if you are one of those half-spirit Maraloi." The fox-thing blew smoke up toward the ceiling.

Bayalun started at the mention of the Maraloi. "How did you know?" she demanded. "No one knows of that."

"The emperor of Shou Lung knows. Your father was one of the Maraloi, spirits of the great northern wood. Humans think the Maraloi don't exist. You and I know better." The fox tapped its pipe, shaking out the excess ash. "But, the man you were talking to-"

"Will present no problems," Bayalun said, a little subdued. "He thinks we only plan to get Yamun out of Quaraband so he can seize power. He has no idea of my true intentions."

"Our true intentions," corrected the fox, rubbing its back against a rough-sided basket. "Ahh," it sighed.

"Our intentions," Bayalun noted. "And just what does your master intend?"

"He is concerned. He wants to be sure that everything is as he agreed." The fox-thing suddenly dropped its casual air. "Yamun Khahan continues to unite the tribes, and his army grows larger. Soon even the unbreachable Dragonwall will be threatened by his might. There is a chance its magic may not be able to hold him back. You assured my master that there would be peace between Shou Lung and the Tuigan."

"There has been no change," she answered defensively. "Once I have control, I will see that the peace between the Tuigan and Shou Lung remains unbroken. But, your master has certain obligations to fulfill, too."

"Of course," assured the fox between draws on its pipe. "That's why he sent me."

"What?"

"You needed an assassin, an expert in disguise. Am I not," the fox said as it stood and took a little bow, "brilliant at disguise?"

"Not if that's the best you can do," Bayalun shot back. She was furious with the hu hsien, this inhuman trickster of the spirit realm. She was equally furious with the Shou mandarin who sent it. The mighty of Shou Lung think they can toy with me, she cursed silently, but I'll show them just how dangerous that can be. "Go back to your master and tell him to send me a real assassin, not a clowning animal."

The fox bit down hard on the stem of its pipe. "You will take whomever my master sends," it snarled, baring its fangs as its animal side boiled to the surface. "Now, old woman, I'm tired of this. Tell me what I am to do."

Bayalun relented. "There is a post you can fill-assuming you can look human-among the khahan's dayguards. Then you will be close to him. You must take it and wait." Bayalun twisted the staff between her hands as she explained things.

"That's all? How will I know when to act?" the beast asked.

"I will send you a message," Bayalun answered.

"How?"

"That's all you need know," she snapped, frowning at the beast's curiosity. "Too much knowledge and you become a danger to everything. Tomorrow, present yourself to Dayir Bahadur-in human form. He commands a jagun of the dayguard and will see to your position. Then, wait for my word." She narrowed her eyes, waiting for any more questions. None came. "Now, you may leave."

The fox blew a puff of sweet smoke. "I haven't finished my pipe," it declared.

"Leave now," Bayalun hissed, "lest I complain to your master."

The fox pricked up its ears. "Careful, or I will complain to your lord." The hu hsien watched the empress's reaction. "I find you interesting, half-Maraloi. Your husband might be strong enough to seize the riches of Shou Lung, but you want him dead. Your ambitions are strange."

"Yamun Khahan killed the yeke-noyan-my husband, his father-so he could rule the Hoekun. I will never forgive him for that." Besides, Bayalun thought, with the khahan dead, I will control the Tuigan. Chanar will be khahan, but I will have the power. "Now, no more questions."

"Very well, I will take my leave," the fox-thing said pompously. It closed the lid on the pipe and stuffed it back into the pouch. Dropping to all fours, it smiled a foxish smile at Bayalun and lightly leaped away into the darkness.

After the creature had left, Bayalun waited patiently for some time. She was in no hurry. Haste ruined careful plans. She had learned that from experience.

It was impossible to keep secret the fact that the khahan was on the move toward Khazari, and by the afternoon the news had spread through all of Quaraband. Yamun's women had emptied out the Great Yurt and had started to take it down. Within an hour, the yurt was stripped of its felt walls, the frame standing like a skeleton atop the hill.

The dismantling of the royal yurt was a signal to the rest of the city. Men rode from their tents, extra horses in tow, to assembly areas outside Quaraband. Each arban of ten men gathered to form the jaguns of one hundred and in turn the minghans of one thousand. For every unit there was a specific meeting place, so that the men could be organized quickly. Throughout the day, yurts disappeared from the valley as preparations were made to move out.

Men loaded Yamun's throne onto the back of a huge cart, which was roofed with a smaller version of the royal yurt. The cart, pulled by a team of eight oxen, was Yamun's capital while on campaign. During the work, the khahan set up his headquarters in the sunshine. He sat on his bed, a small wooden-framed thing with stubby legs. Koja sat on a stool nearby, along with several other scribes, mostly Bayalun's wizards and holy men. All of them furiously scribbled down orders, rolling up the sheets as they were done and thrusting them into the hands of waiting messengers.

Koja had just finished writing out a sheet of orders meant for Hubadai at Fergana Pass. "It is to be there in no less than five days," insisted Yamun as the priest handed the scroll to a rider.

"By your word, it shall be done!" the rider shouted, sprinting to his horse before he had even finished speaking.

Koja leaned to the scribe next to him, a young man with a thin, black goatee and shaven head. "How can that be?" Koja asked, pointing his writing brush at the departing rider. "How can he deliver a message so quickly? Do they use magic?"