Yamun scowled. "He's let too many men go. Order him to call them back immediately."
Koja quickly wrote the command on a fresh sheet of paper and handed it to a waiting quiverbearer. The man presented the paper on a tray, along with a stone coated with red ink. The khahan took his seal, a small silver block with a top in the shape of a bird, from under his shirt. The underside was carved in the contorted Tuigan script. Yamun dipped the seal into the ink and pressed it on the sheet. The sealbearer backed away, blowing the ink dry as he went.
"Continue," ordered the khahan.
"He has not sent many scouts," Chanar noted. "The Tsu-Tsu seem peaceful. He thinks they will come over to us without fighting. The lands behind him, to the west, have been conquered. He has recruited some soldiers from them, but they are poor warriors. He says they are too weak to rebel, and I agree with him. They are dogs."
"Dogs bite," observed Yamun. "What do you say, historian?"
Koja was startled by the question, too surprised to be diplomatic. "If they have been treated well, they will not rebel. But if Tomke has ruled them harshly, they will fight more fiercely than ever before. My own people, the Khazari, have fought so in ancient times against wicked emperors of Shou Lung."
"So, the Khazari are not just mice," commented Chanar with a faint sneer.
Koja colored at the slight and bristled to make a reply.
"Enough," Yamun firmly interrupted. "Good advice. Chanar, how was my son treating them?"
"I didn't ask," Chanar replied sullenly. He shot an evil glare at Koja.
"Someone should find out. Send Hulagu Khan. Draw up the orders to see that it's done."
Koja nodded and made a brief note.
"Was there anything else at Tomke's camp?" Yamun asked, returning to Chanar.
"He's met with the chief of the ogres from the northern mountains. They want to fight 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 said that all caravans crossing the great steppe would pay taxes to the khahan of the Tuigan." Koja paused, rubbing the stubble on his head nervously.
"Is that all?" Yamun queried. Chanar sat up straight, ready to protest.
"Oh, no," Koja said hurriedly. "He also said that all kingdoms must offer you tribute or submit themselves to your rule."
"It seemed quite clear to me, Great Lord," Chanar offered.
Yamun nodded in agreement. "So, the caliph has not responded?"
"No, Yamun," Chanar noted. "No word has come from Semphar."
"Perhaps the caliph does not believe you have the power, Khahan," suggested Koja. "After all, Semphar has a large army and many cities. Indeed the caliph is called the 'Chosen Prince of Denier' and the 'Great Conqueror.' "
"The 'Great Conqueror' will learn," Yamun said grimly. "How many men does Hubadai have at present?"
"He has kept all his tumen, five of them, ready. I, myself, advised him to await your orders," Chanar boasted.
"Did you?" Yamun commented. He smiled faintly, though any warmth in his expression was twisted by the scar across his lip. The lama could not decide if Yamun was being sarcastic or not. If he was, Chanar apparently did not notice.
"Yes, Yamun," Chanar said proudly. The general sat up straighter and puffed his chest out.
"Scribe, send this to Hubadai," Yamun ordered, settling back on his stool. "He's to divide his command into three parts. He will lead one, and I'll send commanders to lead the others. No man of his army will go hunting except for food, to save the horses. If a man breaks this law, the first time he will get three strokes of the rod. The second time, he will have three times three. The third time he will get three times times three times three. His men are to have two weeks of food ready at all times. The horses must have sufficient fodder on hand. He must be ready to go to war on the day he is ordered." Koja wrote furiously, trying to keep up with the rapid-fire pace of Yamun's order.