"Those horses are mechanical," I said. "I have never heard of such a wonder!"
One of the Asiatics pulled at his long moustache and stared at me for several moments before speaking. "Yours is the tongue of Philander Groot."
"It is German," I said. "What do you know of Groot?"
"Our friend." The Tatar chief looked suspiciously at the glaring Sedenko. "Why is your companion so angry?"
"Because you chased us, I suppose," I told him. "He is also a friend of Philander Groot. We saw him less than a year hence, in the Valley of the Golden Cloud."
"It was said that he would go there." The Tatar made a sign to his men. Pressing on either side of us, they began to steer us towards their village. "It was Groot who made our horses for us, when the Plague came, which destroyed all mares and lost us our herds."
"Is that what burns yonder?" I asked him, pointing back at the pyres.
He shook his head. "Those are not ours." He would say no more on the subject.
My opinion of Groot was even higher now that I had seen an example of his skill. I found it difficult to understand, why the dandy had chosen to live the life of a hermit when he was capable of so much.
The mechanical horses clattered as we moved. Sedenko said to me: "They are not true Tatars, of course, but are creatures of the Mittelmarch, and so I suppose are not necessarily my natural blood-enemies."
"I think it would be politic, if nothing else, Sedenko," said I, "if you held to that line of reasoning. At least for the next little while."
He looked suspiciously at me, but then nodded, as if to say he would bide his time for my sake.
The village was full of dogs, goats, women and children and it stank. The Tatars brought their mechanical mounts to a halt and the creatures stopped, still as statues, where they stood. Fires and cooking pots, half-cured skins, wizened elders: all at odds with the sophistication of Groot's inventions.
We were led into one of the larger yurts and here the stench was more intense than anything we had experienced outside. I was almost driven out by it, but Sedenko took it for granted. I gathered that his own people had borrowed many Tatar customs and that, to a stranger, Kazaks would not be easily distinguishable from their ancient enemies.
"We are the Guardians of the Genie," said the Tatar chief as he bade us sit upon piles of exotic but unclean cushions. "You must eat with us, if you are Groot's friends. We shall kill a dog and a goat."
"Please," said I, "your hospitality is too much. A simple bowl of rice is all we need to eat."
"You must eat meat." The chief was firm. "We have few guests and would hear your news."
I was amused, wondering what he would make of our real story. I had teamed in such circumstances to be a little vague, since oftentimes we had not even journeyed from any neighbouring kingdom, and thus could be unfamiliar with geography, customs and politics which might be the only experience of our hosts. We had become used to saying that we were upon a pilgrimage, hi quest of a holy thing; that we were vowed not to mention it, nor the name of the Deity we worshipped. This way I, at least, was able to identify this fictitious god of mine with the gods of those we met. Sedenko, being still somewhat more pious than myself, preferred to say nothing.
As best J could, I described some of my adventures in the Mittelmarch and some of our experiences in our journey across Europe. There was quite enough for the Tatar chief to hear, and by the time we were setting to about the dog and the goat (both of which were stewed in the same pot, with a few vegetables) I think we had paid more than amply for our food and it was time for me to ask the chief:
"And what is this Genie which you guard?"
"A powerful creature," he said soberly, "which resides in a jar. It has been imprisoned there for aeons. Philander Groot gave it to us. In return for the gift of horses, we guard the Genie."
"And what did you do before you became Guardians of the Genie?" I asked.
"We made war on other tribes. We conquered them and took away their horses, their livestock, their women."
"You no longer make war on them?"
The Tatar shook his head. "We cannot. Even by the time Philander Groot came to us we had destroyed everyone but ourselves."
"You wiped out every other tribe?"
"The Plague weakened them. We considered attacking Bakinax, but we are too few. Philander Groot said that with the power of the Genie we should not have to fear the Plague. And this seems to be so."
"And what is Bakinax?" asked Sedenko.
"The City of the Plague," said the Tatar chief, "It is where the Plague came from in the first place. It is created by a demon the citizens have with them. I have heard that they try to destroy the demon but that it feeds on the souls of men and beasts and that is why it sends the Plague to them. It sits in a sphere at the centre of Bakinax, eating its fill."
"Yet your souls are untouched."
"Quite. We have the Genie."
"Of course."
After we had eaten, the Tatar chief caused a brand to be lit and he took us to the outskirts of the camp where a little wooden scaffolding had been erected. From it, hanging by plaited horsehair, was a decorated jar of dark yellow glass. The Tatar held the brand close and I thought I saw something stirring within, but it might have been nothing more than reflected light.
"If the jar is broken," said the chief, "and the Genie is released, it will grow to immense proportions and wreak a horrible destruction throughout Mittelmarch. The demon knows this and the folk of Bakinax know this and that is why we are left untroubled."
He took a woven blanket and with some reverence draped it over the scaffolding, hiding the jar from our sight. "We cover it at night," he said. "Now I will show you to our guest yurt. Do you require women?"
I shook my head. I had known no other woman since I had taken the Lady Sabrina's ring. Sedenko considered the offer a little longer than did I. But then he also decided not to accept. As he murmured to me: "To sleep with a Tatar woman would be tantamount to heresy amongst the Kazak people."
The yurt in which we were to sleep was relatively clean and had sweet straw upon the floor. We stretched out on mats and were soon asleep, although not before Sedenko had grumbled that he had lost considerable pride by missing the opportunity to kill a Tatar or two. "At very least I should have stolen something from them."
When I awoke at dawn Sedenko had already been out, to relieve himself, he said. "It's stopped raining, captain. One of the children said that it is only about a day's ride to Bakinax, due west. It lies directly on our way. What do you think? We're low on provisions."
"Are you anxious to visit a place known as the City of the Plague?"
"I am anxious to eat something other than dog or goat," he said feelingly.
I laughed at this. "Very well. We shall take the risk."
I arose and washed myself in the bowl of water provided us, breakfasted off the rice brought by a shy Tatar maiden and stepped out of the yurt. The camp was only just beginning to wake. I strode through it to the yurt of the chieftain. He greeted me civilly.
"Should you come upon our friend Philander Groot," he said, "tell him that we long to see him again, to do him honour for the honour he does us."
"It is unlikely," said I, "but I will remember your message."
We departed on good terms. Sedenko seemed overeager to reach Bakinax and I suggested, after about half an hour, that he slow his pace. "Do the fleshpots become so attractive to you, my friend?"
"I would feel more comfortable with a city wall between myself and the Tatars," he admitted.
"They plainly mean us no harm."
"They might wish us harm now," he said. He looked back in the direction of the camp. It was no longer visible. Then he reached behind him into a saddlebag and withdrew something which he displayed in his gloved hand.