Yamun slid back from the fire and took up the tale again. "The daughter of Abatai was promised to me, so I decided to take her. I raised my nine-tailed banner and called my seven valiant men to my side." The khahan stopped to catch his breath. "We rode along the banks of the Rusj River and near Mount Bogdo we found the tents of the Commani.
"That night a great storm came. The Naican were afraid. My seven valiant men were afraid. The ground shook with Teylas's voice, and the Lord of the Sky spoke to me." The khans at the fire glanced up at the night sky when Yamun mentioned the god's name, as if expecting some kind of divine response. "The storm kept the Commani men in their tents, and they did not find us hidden behind Mount Bogdo.
"In the morning, To'orl of the right wing attacked. My seven valiant men attacked, too. We overturned the Commani's tents and carried off their women. I claimed the daughter of Abatai, and she became my first empress." Yamun stabbed the meat in his bowl and took a bite. Steam still rose from the boiled antelope.
Koja looked at the faces around the fire. Chanar sat with his eyes closed. The other two khans listened with rapt attention. Even the boisterous singing that had started at one of the nearby feast-fires didn't distract them. Yamun himself was excited by his own telling, his eyes aglow with the glories of olden days.
"Now that I defeated the Commani people, I scattered them among the Hoekun and the Naican," the khahan added as a postscript, between bites of antelope. "To To'orl of the Naican I gave five hundred to be slaves for him and his grandchildren. To my seven valiant men, I gave one hundred each to be slaves. I also gave To'orl the Great Yurt and golden drinking cups of Abatai.
"That's how I first made the Hoekun strong and how I got my first empress," Yamun said as he finished the story.
Chanar opened his eyes as the recitation ended. The khans smiled in approval at the telling of the tale.
"What happened to the first empress?" Koja asked.
"She died bearing Hubadai, many winters ago."
Koja wondered if there was a trace of sorrow in the words.
"And what happened to Abatai, khan of the Commani?" Koja asked to change the subject.
"I killed him." Yamun paused, then called to a quiverbearer. "Bring Abatai's cup," he told the man. The servant went to the royal yurt. He came back carrying a package the size of a melon, wrapped in red silk, and handed it to Yamun. The khahan unwrapped it. There, nestled in the cloth, was a human skull. The top had been sliced away, and a silver cup was set in the recess.
"This was Abatai," Yamun said, holding it out for Koja to see.
The hollow eyes of the skull stared at Koja. Suddenly they flashed with a burning white light. Koja jumped back in surprise, almost toppling off his stool. The bowl of meat and broth in his lap splashed to the ground. "The eyes, they—"
The eyes flashed again, the light flickering and leaping. Koja looked at the skull more closely and realized he was seeing the reflection off the silver bowl through the hollow eye sockets.
"What's wrong, little priest, did you read your future in the bones?" Chanar quipped from across the fire. The old khan, Goyuk, guffawed at the joke. Even Yamun found Koja's reaction amusing.
"He's dead and what's dead can't hurt us," Yamun said with conviction. He turned to Chanar. "Koja is filled with the might of his god, but fears bones. True warriors don't fear spirits."
Koja flushed with embarrassment at his own foolishness.
"We must drink to the honor of the khahan," Chanar announced, hauling himself to his feet. He stepped around the fire and stopped in front of Koja. Uncorking his skin of kumiss, he splashed the heady drink into the skull cup. He took the skull from Yamun and handed it to Koja. Unwillingly, the priest took it in his hands.
"Ai!" Chanar cried, the signal to drink. He tipped his head back and drank from the skin.
"Ai," echoed Yamun and the khans. They raised their cups and took long swallows.
Koja looked at the skull cup in his hands. The eyes were still staring at him, and the brain recess was filled with a milky pool of kumiss. He turned the cup so it wasn't facing him.
"Drink, little priest," urged Chanar, wiping his mustache on his sleeve, "or do you think the khahan has no honor?"
Yamun looked at Koja, noting that the lama had not joined in the toast. His brow furrowed in vexation with his newly chosen historian. "You don't drink?"
Koja took a great breath and hoisted the skull up to his lips. He closed his eyes and gulped a draught of the wretched drink. Quickly, before they could urge him to take another swallow, the priest held the skull out to Chanar.
"Drink to the khahan's might," Koja gasped.
"Ai," called out the khans, refilling their cups.
Chanar grinned at the look of distress that flickered over the priest's face. He took the offered cup and drained it in a single gulp. Taking the skull with one hand, he filled it again with kumiss and handed it back to Koja. "Drink to the khahan's health," he said with a wicked smile.
Koja choked.
"Ai," slurred out the khans. The toasts were starting to take their toll.
"Enough," interrupted Yamun, pushing the drinking skull away from Koja. "My health doesn't need toasting. I've told a story, now it's someone else's turn." He looked pointedly at Koja.
"I've a story to tell," Chanar snapped, before Koja could speak up. "It's a good story, and it's all true." He stepped back to give himself more space, kicking up the ashes at the edge of the fire.
Yamun turned to Chanar. "Well, what is it?" he asked, barely keeping his irritation under control.
"Great khahan, the priest knows how you beat the Commani with the help of the Naican and your seven valiant men. Now I'll tell of what happened to one of those seven valiant men." Chanar dropped the skin of kumiss and stepped away from the fire.
"Yes, tell us," urged the toothless Goyuk Khan.
Koja looked at Yamun before he voiced his own opinion. The khahan was impassive. Koja couldn't tell if he was displeased or bored, so he kept his own mouth shut.
"After the khan—the khahan—," began Chanar in a loud voice, "defeated the Commani, he gave them to his companions, like he told us. He told his seven valiant men to gather the remaining men, young and old, of the Commani. 'Measure all the men by the tongue of a cart, and kill all those who can't walk under it,' the khahan ordered."
"Measure all the men by a cart," Koja asked meekly. "What does that mean?"
"Any male who cannot walk under the hitch of an oxcart is killed. Only the little boys are spared," Chanar answered curtly. "We killed all the men of the Commani, like the khan ordered. He wasn't the khahan yet, you understand." Chanar circled around the fire, pacing as he spoke. "So, we killed the men.
"Then the khan gave out the women and children to us, because he was pleased with his warriors. He went to the seven valiant men and said, 'You and I are brothers of the liver. We've been anda since we were young. Continue to serve me faithfully and I'll give you great rewards.' He said this. I heard it said." Chanar kicked an ember at the edge of the fire back into the flames.
"The valiant men were pleased by these words." Chanar paused, looking at Yamun. "There's more to the story, but perhaps the khahan doesn't want to hear it."
"Tell your story," insisted Yamun.
Chanar nodded to the khahan. "There isn't much more to tell. Perhaps you know the tale. One of the valiant men told the khan, 'We are anda, brothers of the liver. I will stand at your side.' And I heard the khahan promise, saying, 'You are of my liver and will be my right hand forever.' When the khan went to war, this valiant man was his right hand. With his right hand, the khan conquered the Quirish and gathered the scattered people of the Tuigan—the Basymats and the Jamaqua. His right hand was strong."