"Khahan," Batu said, "your wisdom is infinite, and if you think the time to move has come, I cannot argue—"
Batu was interrupted when a Kashik stepped through the yurt's entrance. "General Chanar returns," the guard reported.
The man who followed the Kashik hardly resembled the arrogant khan who had left camp seven days ago. Chanar's hat was missing, and the shaven circle atop his head was red and peeling from sunburn. His face was haggard and drawn, with a grayish complexion and deep circles beneath his eyes. The tattered remnants of a del were draped over his shoulders, and Batu saw a piece of yellow metal glittering through the ripped left pocket. The khan lacked several pieces of armor. What remained had been so severely beaten that it was full of gaping holes where metal plates had fallen off.
Chanar stepped forward and kneeled, filling the yurt with the unmistakable stench of sulfur and smoke. "I have returned, Khahan."
When he saw Yamun frown at the sorry sight, Batu dared to interject, "Barely, from all appearances."
Chanar's face reddened, but the khahan paid no attention to the affront. "Rise and report," the Tuigan ruler said, neglecting to offer his weary subordinate a seat or a cup of kumiss.
Casting a sinister glance in Batu's direction, Chanar returned to his feet. "There is a rich kingdom beyond the mountains," he began.
The khahan looked annoyed. "It took seven days to report this?"
Chanar grimaced and looked away for an instant. When he turned his gaze back to the khahan's, he said, "No, Great Khahan. I was exploring the kingdom in order to make a more complete report."
"Your orders were to scout and report," Yamun Khahan snapped, "not to explore. By your appearance, I would say your disobedience got you in trouble. What happened?"
Chanar immediately pointed at Batu. "It was his fault," the Tuigan said. "He sent us into a trap!"
The khahan raised an eyebrow. "What kind of trap?"
"Magic!" Chanar hissed. "It was everywhere—stinking clouds that choked man and beast, fire falling from the sky, wolves that walked and used swords like men. It was only through my great skill that I escaped with a jagun."
"A jagun!" the khahan roared, hurling his cup over the general's head. "I send you into the mountains with five thousand men and you return with a hundred!"
Chanar weathered the storm gracefully, and Batu realized the Tuigan had been expecting it. After the khahan stopped yelling, Chanar said, "As I said, the Shou sent us into a trap. We were ambushed as soon as we left the valley."
"On whom did you blame your failures before I joined the khahan's armies?" Batu countered.
"I didn't mean to offend you," Chanar responded smugly, barely sparing a glance for the Shou. "I only meant that you made a mistake and did not appreciate the position you were placing us in."
The renegade understood the khan's insidious plan. It had been Yamun, not Batu, who had sent the scouts into the pass. Nevertheless, Chanar was blaming the Shou, hoping to provide the khahan with a convenient scapegoat for what appeared to be a disastrous decision. In addition, he had constructed his arguments in such a way that Batu either looked like a traitor for sending the patrol into an ambush, or an idiot for not realizing that there might be one. At the same time, the Tuigan general had neatly sidestepped the central issue, which was that he and his men were the ones who were supposed to be searching out the ambushes.
Batu suspected that Yamun was as aware of Chanar's tactic as he himself. Nevertheless, bearing in mind the khahan's earlier comments about Chanar's rivalry, the renegade decided to turn the tables on the haggard khan. "General Chanar, you are a liar."
"How dare you!" Chanar responded. He turned to the khahan. "Must I continually endure this dog's abuse in your yurt?"
The khahan silenced the angry general with a gesture, then turned to Batu. "It is a terrible insult to call a man a liar to his face," he said. "Perhaps you wish to rethink your words?"
"No," Batu responded, staring straight at Chanar. "I can prove what I say, if you will ask Chanar to empty his pockets."
Chanar frowned. His hand drifted toward the left pocket of his del and he seemed worried. Batu knew he had caught his rival off-guard. The Tuigan had clearly not expected to be searched.
"Will you do this, Chanar?" the Mighty One asked.
Although the khahan phrased the request as a question, Chanar had no choice except to comply. Biting his lip, he reached into his pocket. He withdraw a handful of gold coins and a four-spoked golden wheel beset with rare gems—the crest of some religious or military order. Even from several yards away, Batu could see that the thing was worth a fortune.
"I brought these for you, Great Khahan," Chanar said, thinking on his feet. "They are but small samples of the wealth beyond the mountains."
"How did you come by them?" Yamun demanded, motioning Chanar forward.
"I took them off an enemy," the haggard man responded, giving his commander the golden wheel.
"Only a fool would take something so heavy and of such value into battle," Batu declared.
Hefting the wheel, the khahan said, "So it would seem."
"You took it while looting," Batu continued, his eyes fixed on Chanar's snarling form. "No doubt, that is when you were really ambushed."
Chanar turned back to the khahan. "Nobody calls me a liar. I demand the right to avenge this insult!"
"Gladly," Batu responded, rising.
The khahan flung the golden wheel aside. "No!" he stormed. "I will not be dishonored by such behavior!" The Tuigan ruler stood. "We have been sitting too long. Our tempers have grown short with boredom, and we all long to feel the wind in our hair. It is clear that a strong enemy lies in our path, for five thousand Tuigan do not die easily, whether they are ambushed or not."
Yamun looked from Chanar to Batu, scowling at each man in turn. "Chanar is a Tuigan khan and a cunning leader. Batu has earned my respect on the battlefield, something no enemy has ever done. You are both my honored generals, yet you are more concerned with fighting each other than our enemies."
The khahan shook his head and walked away from the pair. "How should I choose between you?"
"I know," Batu said.
"How?" demanded Chanar.
Smiling confidently, Batu said, "I will take five minghans, the same number of troops as Chanar had, and blaze a trail through the mountains. If I and my five thousand troops fail, I will be Chanar's quiverbearer, honor-bound to follow his orders even though it means death."
"And if you succeed?" the khahan asked, turning around to face his quarreling subordinates.
"I will be Batu's quiverbearer," Chanar said, grinning confidently, "honor-bound to serve him even though it means death."
"Good," the khahan said. "I bear witness to your challenge and the wagers placed on it. Let all who question you know that this is done by the word of the khahan."
19
The Illustrious Battle
A tremendous crack sounded from the mountainside, and a bright light flared to Batu's right. Kicking free of his stirrups, he leaped out of the saddle just as a blinding flash struck the horse. A shock-wave jolted the renegade so hard that his teeth snapped together. As he slammed to the ground, the breath fled his lungs and a deafening boom set the earth itself to trembling. The discordant smells of ozone and scorched horse-hide filled the air, then his mount's carcass collapsed across his lower body.