"You're on," the challenged man hooted. "You drink like a little girl."

Shan Yu smiled slightly. His face hidden was inside the furred hood he had pulled close against the wind, and since most of the young riders ahead were from Kaaje's tribe, they did not recognize him. If they did, they gave no sign of it. They were too eager to start the festivities to pay much attention to whoever might be riding nearby. He studied the way they rode and carried themselves, almost unconsciously gauging each of them for battle potential.

One laughed loudly and pointed to the sky. "Tenger Etseg sends congratulations to Qaidu!"

Shan Yu followed the young man's gesture and lifted one brow at the unmistakably suggestive thunderhead rising against the darkening northern horizon.

Another rider uttered a high-pitched wolf howl. "Look at that!" he laughed. "Kaaje must be getting a son right now!"

One of the younger riders glanced nervously at his comrades. "You don't suppose Sukhe's idugan had anything to do with...that...that...cloud?" His newly-deepening voice cracked slightly. "The way she called up the spirits back there...it was spooky."

"Tarvaa, you are some kind of bumpkin," snorted the one riding at his side. "She's a performer from China! An actor! It's what she does for a living. Are you that easily taken in by sleight of hand and showmanship?"

"It wasn't showmanship when she saved my little sister from the fever," Shan Yu heard one of them say more quietly. "We all thought she was going to die. But the idugan saved her."

"Healing herbs are one thing," retorted the first. "Consorting with spirits is something else. I'll trust Cheren for that."

"All this talk about sickness and scary magic!" said another, making exaggerated gestures to ward off evil spirits. "Who gives a damn on a night like this? Anyway, if Qaidu's going to get an heir with his new khutun before we leave, he'll need all the magic the sky can give him, idugan or no. He doesn't have much time!"

"Well, I'm going to make the most of the time we do have," said another, and kicked his horse ahead of his mates'. The rest took up the chase effortlessly, hooting and joking as they raced away. Shan Yu watched them go, preferring to arrive alone.

He cupped his hands around his mouth and nose to warm them as he rounded the bend to meet a new blast of icy wind. The riders ahead had already reached Sukhe's great hall, tucked against the brown folds of the hill. Between the hall and the corrals was a wide, flat space where bonfires were being stoked. The smell of roasting meat made his mouth water; he hadn't realized until now that the day's work had given him such an appetite. As he drew close, his mare pricked her ears at two dark shapes that dropped from the corral railing, slowly approached and bowed before him.

"Our families eagerly await your arrival, Khagan." It was Temur, backlit by the fires in front of the hall. His companion took Shan Yu's mare while Temur beckoned him to follow. From every doorway and smokehole, gold firelight streamed against the smoky cobalt of dusk, and faintly from within, the Celts' drums and pipes hummed a rhythm taken up by hundreds of stamping feet. Bursts of song and laughter bubbled from the hall. As Shan Yu mounted the steps, he felt the floorboards vibrate under his feet.

"Sukhe has arranged for my cousin Marayash to serve you tonight." Temur said, raising his voice to be heard over the uproar. "We hope this pleases you!"

"Your father is generous," said Shan Yu, already having steeled himself for the political mating dance being choreographed for him. He paused at the main door, touched his fingers to the frame and was somewhat relieved to feel no unusual sensations this time. It bothered him a bit to think that he had given even a passing thought to supernatural forces he knew did not exist. But as he walked through the door, he shivered in his heavy cloak and pulled it closer around him. I'm just overly tired.

He good-naturedly waved off the tumult of cheers that greeted him as he entered. A great bonfire blazed in the center of the hall. Though most of its smoke spiraled up through a sheltered hole in the roof, the hall was still bathed in a pungent haze. Temur waited patiently as Shan Yu scanned along the walls where tables, laden with every manner of food, drink, decoration and colorful delicacy, awaited the revelers. Spicy aromas he had not known since his youth in China warmed him from every side.

He gave a sharp laugh. "Do my senses betray me, or have your idugan and her porters brought this entire feast from Chien K'ang?"

"She said you might notice," grinned Temur. "If you will follow me, I will seat you beside my father, and everything will be brought to you. As much as you and your men desire! My father gave Tianlin free rein to buy the most unusual goods she could find for Qaidu's wedding. She's been travelling to China every summer for years, but I've never seen anything like what she's brought back this time."

Sitting at the top of a long, sloping set of stone steps, the village Elders lined the north wall and faced the fire. At their center sat Sukhe, Duman and Cheren surrounded by a small pavilion of bright, silk banners. Marayash was already there, sitting beside a fur-draped, empty seat. Her skirts of shimmering, yellow silk were arranged in perfect, graceful folds to give just a hint of the shapely legs curled demurely beneath. Chin high, she serenely surveyed the scene from beneath her lashes.

As Shan Yu mounted the steps, he passed his men, each attended by a pretty young woman. Ulaan glanced up, sent him a languid salute, and surreptitiously gestured with his chin towards Shirchin, who sat cross-legged, facing Gaitan and Batu.

Shan Yu squinted to see more clearly what the swordsman was doing. Between him and the twins lay a plate piled high with--Shan Yu blinked in surprise and then in vicarious pain--dried peppers. He knew those. The fiercest spice, imported from India. As he watched, Shirchin took one and raised it to his lips. It disappeared. While the twins watched, he chewed slowly and deliberately, apparently untroubled by the ferocious burn.

Batu was the first to take up the challenge, popping two of the black devils into his mouth, chewing and swallowing gamely as his eyes watered and his face grew sweaty and red as ripe melon. Gaitan did the same.

Only when Shirchin began the next round did Shan Yu spy the quick sleight of hand that diverted the pepper from his mouth to his sleeve. The twins hadn't seen a thing. They continued the contest without flinching as the serving girls beside them gasped in astonishment. Shan Yu rolled his eyes and continued towards his place. Whatever social maneuverings he might have to endure tonight, it was not going to be as bad as what the twins would suffer tomorrow.

Sukhe rose to greet his ally, and made a sweeping gesture towards the fur-draped seat beside him. "Shan Yu Khagan," he said warmly, gripping Shan Yu's forearms in greeting. "I must again tell you what a great honor it is for our families to enjoy your presence on this important day. Let us drink to good fortune for all who enter this hall tonight. May each man find what he seeks!"

Marayash was kneeling before him, offering him a polished wooden bowl filled with qimis. Expressionless, Shan Yu took the bowl and knocked it lightly against Sukhe's and then against Duman's and Cheren's. In all his years living among the tribes, one of the few things he had never learned to like was liquor distilled from curdled mare's milk. "Boltugai!" He downed it quickly, shrugged off his cloak and tossed it behind his seat. "Very impressive, Sukhe," he said, scanning the hall. "Urga's prosperity has grown beyond belief. I've rarely seen such a magnificent feast."

"It's not every day that one's first son takes a such a splendid wife," he said, glancing jovially at Duman. "All my sons except Qaidu and Temur have given me grandchildren. My eldest certainly took his time. But it was worth the wait to have such a daughter-in-law." He lowered his voice and looked down at Marayash, who waited beside Shan Yu's seat to serve him. "though Urga is a veritable treasure trove of the finest women a man could desire," he said, bending his chin to his shoulder and speaking so quietly that only Shan Yu could hear. "And none are so fine as the one who sits beside you tonight, Khagan."

Smiling, but pointedly avoiding the old chieftain's gaze, Shan Yu lowered himself into his seat and stretched his legs before him. It was going to be a long night.

A line of serving girls brought food and drink to their chieftain and his guests while the four men settled into casual conversation of the year's hunting, the turning of the season and Urga's harvest. All knew that to speak too openly of the upcoming conflict with China would be to tempt the spirits. The closest any of them came to mentioning the war was to discuss supplies, horses and the upcoming training in the Gobi. Shan Yu revealed little of the complex plans he had already laid. It had always been his custom to keep his plans and his spies' findings to himself, even when he sat among allies. Only his five brothers-at-arms had his complete trust. His insistence, even in a friendly camp, that the six of them share tents rather than be given the honor of private dwellings had saved their lives more than once.

As the conversation drifted towards the acquisition of wives and concubines, he deftly steered the talk away from himself. He was accustomed to it. He would play the preoccupied Warlord this night. He had neither the time nor the spirit for the more domestic matters his host so obviously hoped to arrange between him and Marayash.

His mind could not have been further from thoughts of the girl at his knee, however appealing she might be. It seemed that even the wedding feast had been designed to fill him with bittersweet memories of his youth in China. The fragrances of long-forgotten delicacies--spiced dumplings, seafood, ginger, oranges, cherries, lychees--assailed his senses. Women dressed in Chinese silks and adornments and scented with Chinese perfumes rustled past with bottles of rice wine. Even some of the music struck up by the Celts, some born and raised in Lo Yang, evoked flashes of his youth. And with each passing moment, he felt a growing desire to see Tianlin emerge from the darkness of the doorway.

It seemed ages before a great noise of drums outside heralded the arrival of Kaaje and Qaidu. They entered the hall under a fluttering gold and orange silk canopy carried on long posts by some of the mummers, and accompanied by a small group of musicians who played them to their seats. Plucking a stringed instrument and bringing up the rear came Tianlin.

The crowd hailed Kaaje and Qaidu, then turned back to their own celebrations as the bride and groom settled to enjoy the feast brought to them. Shan Yu watched furtively but keenly as Tianlin led the musicians to their places and set serving girls to tend them. Only when they had begun to eat did the idugan take her own place at the eastern end of the north steps with the other women. Sukhe was still talking to him, but Shan Yu found himself catching only snatches of the conversation now that Tianlin was in his sight.

He watched as she accepted a rice ball wrapped in steamed lotus leaves from a serving girl, paused for a moment as though suddenly remembering something, then scanned up the steps to where he sat. Their eyes met, and she raised the rice ball with a great smile, seeking his reaction to the Chinese fare. He answered by scooping an opened rice ball from own plate, taking a bite of it and saluting her with the sticky remainder. Did she seem reluctant to look away from him? He wasn’t sure. But when she finally turned her attention to the feast and her companions, he felt as if he had arrived at the party, at last.

The night became a blur of food, liquor, and music. Shan Yu glanced down occasionally to watch his men cavort with their serving girls, and watched as a group of young women pulled Gaitan and Batu out onto the floor, trying to engage them in traditional dance with other revelers. Preferring not to witness that particular spectacle, he turned away and feigned interest as Duman recounted story about a wager in which he'd won a fine stallion, then loudly praised the quality of Sukhe's qimis.

Sukhe and Duman toasted each other into a happy stupor. By the time the two were draping their arms over each other's shoulders and thumping each other on the back, proclaiming their undying brotherhood, Shan Yu decided it might be safer to sit near Cheren, whom he had not seen for many years.

"Cheren Boeje," Shan Yu greeted him as he settled into a seat of furs beside the old shaman. "How long since we last spoke, old friend?"

"No doubt it seems longer to you than to me, Khagan," Cheren said, his leathery face crinkling in a wide smile that revealed few remaining teeth. "It seems like yesterday that I visited your clan by the great lake. When you're my age, a year passes like a day." "The years have been good to you."

"Spoken like a good politician," said Cheren. But yes, the years have been good to me in terms of prosperity. Three fine sons by three fine wives, more horses and stock than I can manage by myself. But though this old body may fail me, still I am eager to travel with you to the Wall. Riding against the cursed Khyatad would be a good way to leave this world and fly to the next, if that should be my fate."

Shan Yu knocked his bowl against Cheren's. "Yorooloo Bolog," he said. "May your desires be granted."

"My greatest desire is that our grandchildren might never know the arrogance of the Khyatad," Cheren muttered. He tucked his lip across the rim of his bowl and cast an appreciative glance at Marayash, who sat on the far side of Sukhe. "Speaking of children, that one would bear you fine ones. Sukhe seems intent on giving her to you." He slowly cast his bright eyes on Shan Yu's impassive face, seeking reaction. "It puzzles me that you do not readily accept such a generous offer."

Shan Yu looked down at Cheren with mild amusement. "Are you all in league to supply me with more wives than I need?"

Cheren's eyes twinkled. "Only to call your attention to a most rare one. Sukhe would not offer her to just any man," he said. "Could it be possible that the Khagan has so many at home that his bringing home a khutun such as Marayash would cause too much jealousy among them?"

"It could be possible," Shan Yu laughed, avoiding Cheren's sharp gaze. "You know as well as I that bringing a new woman home can be more trouble than it's worth."

Loud cheers distracted them, and they both looked down to see a line of women dancing languidly across the floor, quickly twisting their bodies as three new musicians, swarthy and dark-haired, accompanied the shivering rhythm of the coin belts encircling the womens' hips. Shan Yu and Cheren watched appreciatively.

"Tianlin's performers are an unusual group," Shan Yu observed with a crooked grin. "No wonder they've been so successful in Lo Yang. I, for one, am enjoying the view."

"Yes, beautiful. Raqs sharqi dance," said Cheren with a nod. "The parents of those women and players were slaves bought by Tianlin's grandfather, Jaeger, when he passed through Persia. After Attila died and left his bumbling sons in control, Jaeger fled east with some of our people whom he had befriended in Attila's camp. The musicians are the children of the Celts who came east with Tianlin's grandmother. Jaeger had a talent for collecting gifted artists and musicians wherever he traveled. I think the company is somewhere near fifty strong now, and each performer plies an art native to his place of origin. They never want for work in China."

Shan Yu glanced over to where Tianlin had been sitting with the women and caught his breath in surprise to see her, along with a few village girls, following the movements of one of the Persian dancers, who was demonstrating the dance to them. His eyes widened as Tianlin undulated her hips and hands with smooth grace, watching over her shoulder to mimic the teacher. He uttered an oath under his breath and quickly looked away. He trained his eyes on the musicians and tried to quell the pleasant sensation, a bit too appropriate for the occasion of a wedding, that tingled through his loins.

"The Khagan enjoys the arts, I see," Cheren grinned. "Are you sure you are not interested in bringing home a few more wives?"

"My mind is presently occupied with more serious matters, Cheren." He managed, staring dispassionately across the hall over his bowl.

"I see," the old shaman grinned. "The pursuit of spiritual enlightenment, no doubt. Is that why your gaze keeps stealing over to my Tianlin?"

Shan Yu winced slightly. He hoped that the comment had come from the old shaman's astuteness, and not because his own preoccupation with the idugan had been so obvious. "She is an unusual woman," he said lightly.

Cheren nodded. "Very unusual," he said, giving Shan Yu a sidelong glance and supping at his qimis. "Perhaps being raised almost as a boy and not being taught many of the ways of women has enabled her not only to receive, but to venture forth and seek messages from the Third World. A great gift, to do both. And it is a gift for which she has sacrificed the domestic life enjoyed by ordinary women."

Shan Yu felt a small tug inside himself. He took a draught from his bowl, and said in what he hoped sounded a casual voice, "She has no consort, then? That seems a waste."

"It is what she wishes," Cheren said. "And Sukhe seems happy with the arrangement, as well. I've seen him turn quite fierce when an unwitting man has turned his attentions on the idugan." Shan Yu squirmed inwardly to feel Cheren's knowing gaze on him, but gave no outward sign of his distraction. I'd forgotten how only Cheren can make me feel like a disobedient schoolboy, he thought wryly.

"That one is not meant to live as other women," the old man continued.

Shan Yu stared across the hall, refusing to meet the old shaman's piercing gaze.

"Understandable," Shan Yu said. "One would not wish such a gifted idugan to be so distracted by the troubles and pleasures of this world that she would be unable to climb the Great Smoke Tree into the next."

"Spare me, my friend," Cheren chuckled. "We've known each other long enough. You don't have to pretend to believe these things when you are with me." Shan Yu ventured a scant glance at Cheren, and gave a sheepish grin, then turned his attention on the vile bowl of qimis as the old man spoke. "But Tianlin believes them. She is focused on her path. She and I have learned a great deal from one another."

The dance music rose to a crescendo as the women wriggled in a wild finale, the jingling of coins and bells on their hips and ankles hissing through the air. They ended with a flourish, and once again the crowd roared its approval.

From the corner of his eye, Shan Yu saw Tianlin move to the center of the hall. Careful never to turn her back on the north side where the spirits dwelt, she stood by the fire until the people began to notice that she was waiting for their attention. Gradually, the cacophony of voices drifted off and fell silent.

"Kinsmen," Tianlin called out, addressing everyone in the Hall. "To honor the union of Qaidu and Kaaje, the joining of the houses of Sukhe and Duman, our most beautiful and gifted musician will present a song made especially for them. It is her token of our hope for their long life and many healthy children!"

Marayash had slipped out of the pavilion. She turned and smiled up at Shan Yu. "I will come back to serve you, Khagan, after I have honored Qaidu and Kaaje with my song." She stepped down the stone stairway to the firepit where Tianlin waited. Marayash? he thought. Was it her voice in the canyon last night? Now curious, he leaned forward to watch her go.

Marayash knelt between the fire and the newlyweds, her skirts spread into a great, golden circle around her. Behind and to the side, Tianlin also had knelt down and was holding one of the foreign instruments Shan Yu had seen earlier. It looked very old, carved of dark hardwood, and had a sweeping shape that rose over her head and arched away from her. From base to top, it was strung with dozens of fine metal wires. The crowd grew very silent, and the idugan began plucking at the strings with sure, swift fingers. Shan Yu felt his heart quicken at the silvery sound. He was sure he had never heard anything like it—-but he was suddenly filled with a bittersweet nostalgia that he could not place. He closed his eyes as Marayash took a breath.

But the voice that pierced the smoky air was not the one he had heard the night before. Marayash sang clearly in the slightly nasal, almost strident voice typical of traditional tribal singers, though the melody she sang was like nothing he had ever heard in China or on the steppes. It must have come from the West, he thought. Over the Silk Road with Tianlin's people. He studied the odd blend of East and West in the music, quickly dismissing his disappointment.

And then, two women were singing. The second voice rose softly at first, then clear and soaring, pure as autumn wind. The voice he had heard echoing in the canyon was harmonizing with Marayash. Shan Yu opened his eyes. Tianlin's lips moved with the song. It was her voice that had entranced him last night. He could not imagine how a woman with such a soft, deep speaking voice could sing so high and pure. But once again, strange waves of memory and recognition shivered through him.

The words were Hunnic, sung to a foreign melody in a minor key. He had ears only for Tianlin as her voice trilled the story of two lovers galloping stirrup to stirrup across the grassland, drinking from a single cold stream, becoming one in their furs in the night. The song filled him, peeled away dense layers of protection he had woven around himself in the many years since he had left China. Emotions long ago thrust deep inside came rising up with almost alarming intensity. His throat tightened. He breathed deeply to send unwelcome memories back to their dark hiding place, amazed to know how strongly they still lived in him.

The words ended as the harp played a few final bars and softly rang to silence. The quiet hall burst into wild cheering, and Marayash folded her hands modestly to receive the adulation.

Shan Yu glanced over at Sukhe, who was eyeing him with the triumphant glee of a man who had just revealed a secret treasure. "My niece is the finest woman on the steppes," he said, his eyes glistening wetly with avuncular pride.

"Finest eligible woman," slurred Duman, raising his bowl for a refill.

"Eligible, yes," agreed Sukhe quickly. "And only the most worthy of men might win Marayash to bear his heirs. That one will be blessed by Mongke Tenger and all the stars."

"You are justly proud of her, Sukhe," said Shan Yu. "She is uncommonly beautiful and gifted."

Sukhe beamed and raised his bowl of qimis, inviting a toast. "To the treasure we have in our women!"

Shan Yu grinned and met the toast, a bit relieved that Sukhe hadn't tried to betroth him to Marayash with it on the spot. He was even less in the mood for such games now. He looked back down at Tianlin, who was being joined by the pale-faced Celts and a few Urga musicians. As they struck up a bouncing dance tune, Marayash left them and mounted the steps to return to her place beside the Warlord. When she paused to speak to Qaidu and Kaaje, Shan Yu quickly tossed the contents of his bowl down his throat, and while the qimis still burned there, heard himself say, "But it is your idugan who has the greater power in her voice, Sukhe."

As soon as he had said it, he wondered if the liquor had made him take leave of his senses, especially after his talk with Cheren. But to Shan Yu's surprise, the old chieftain did not take offense at his turning the praise away from Marayash. Rather, he gestured to the empty seat Shan Yu had left beside him.

"Relinquish the company of the Khagan to me, Cheren Boeje," said Sukhe.

Cheren gave Shan Yu a friendly slap on the shoulder. "Go, Khagan," he said softly. "We will have much time to talk on the trail."

As Shan Yu settled back into the seat beside Sukhe, the chieftain's voice, wavering from the drink, became so soft that only Shan Yu could hear. "Only an unusual man hears that power," he said. "My Tianlin has her own great gifts. Not like those of other women. But she is very dear to me because of them." He took another long draught of qimis.

"When she first came to us eight years ago, I was so taken with her that I tried to make her my own consort. So young and pretty! She had seen barely sixteen summers, I think. Baaja wasn't pleased about my taking such a young second wife." He rolled his eyes, red-rimmed from the liquor. "Women can be unreasonable. I'm sure you're no stranger to that."

Shan Yu uttered what he hoped was a convincingly amused grunt. It must have satisfied Sukhe, for the old man continued with growing enthusiasm.

"Had she been anyone else, I might simply have taken her and been done with it. She was little more than a child, after all. And she had no family to bargain with. But something about her...I could not bring myself do it. I could not take her without her consent." He straightened and frowned, trying to hold himself steady, but could not help swaying slightly with the internal waves set in motion by the qimis. When he spoke again, his voice was forceful, and had lost any trace of the wistfulness that had been there a moment before.

"Make no mistake, Shan Yu Khagan. She wanted me. But we both realized that Urga's idugan must have full cooperation from the chieftain's first wife." Sukhe hiccuped, blinked blearily and sighed. "So despite her desire for me, she herself showed me all over again what a fine woman I already had in Baaja. I finally decided it was best for Urga that my relationship with Tianlin remain spiritual. And so it has been. I sometimes wonder if it is difficult for her. Sometimes she does not seem to even want to be near me, probably for the sadness of losing me. But I know I made the right choice."

Shan Yu smiled inwardly, but only nodded at Sukhe’s drunken confession, which he probably would not recall by morning. He had no doubt that it was Tianlin herself who had warded off marriage to this man old enough to be her grandfather, but she seemed to have done it without alienating him, had made the old chieftain think the whole arrangement had been his idea, and had set herself up as an honored elder in a prosperous village in the bargain. He stole a glance down at Tianlin, watched her nod in time with the music as she played along. Already, he could not imagine her as anyone's second wife.

"She is more than Urga's idugan," Sukhe suddenly started up again. His eyes were closed now, and he was slowly collapsing against the cushions. "She's almost like...like...a sister to me. Yes. A sister. A wise young sister. When I seek her counsel in tribal matters, her voice clearly comes from the Third World. All of Urga heeds the messages she brings from beyond our sight.

"I have the best of all worlds," he lifted his bowl again, spilling the last bit being poured by the serving girl. "My Baaja, the choicest concubines, and the most gifted idugan in all this land. All of them are mine. The gods smile on the chieftain of Urga to give him such prosperity and such women!"

Shan Yu smiled distantly. He hoped the old man would just fall asleep now, and let it be. But once more Sukhe opened his eyes, and stared down at Tianlin with a look that was far from brotherly.

To Shan Yu's surprise, a flush of jealous protectiveness suddenly coursed through him. He flared his nostrils and took a deep breath through his nose. He's just a drunken old man. And you must be incredibly tired to let yourself think twice about something this trivial.

Marayash knelt at his thigh and poured more qimis. Shan Yu flashed her a perfunctory grin, then lifted the bowl to his lip and gazed over its rim at the idugan. The dark luster of green silk curved against her body recalled to him the sight of her at the spring, and his mind wandered there for a while. The idea of Sukhe lusting after her bothered him, no matter that he told himself otherwise.

At that moment, Tianlin glanced up from her harp strings and met his gaze. Her green eyes shone, and her open, guileless smile took him so much by surprise that he felt his face grow warm. He lifted his bowl in salute, then silently mouthed the words to her in Mandarin. "Come talk to me, idugan!"

"When I finish." He read her lips as they, too, spoke in their shared tongue.

He grinned. "I'll try to be patient."

Marayash was at his elbow, watching the exchange with cool disinterest. "Tianlin has taught us to play the music of her people," she said. "It comes naturally to me. I love to sing her songs, but the music of our own people is more fitting for Urga. Perhaps I will sing some later."

"You sing well, Marayash," Shan Yu said, still watching the idugan and her musicians. He added under his breath. "You have had a fine teacher."

Marayash said nothing, though it seemed that she flinched slightly. Sukhe leaned over to her.

"Marayash, my dear, serve the Khagan well. These three old men will now go give their blessings to my son and his new bride." The old chieftain rose with a meaningful glance at his niece and nodded to his two companions, who rose along with him. Sukhe and Duman tottered, and the unfortunate Cheren ended up supporting the two of them on his bent, twiggy legs. Duman cast Shan Yu a drunken wink as the three elders left him alone with Sukhe's treasure.

The musicians finished the dance tune, and Tianlin handed her harp to one of the young men in the group. He plucked out a tune which was immediately taken up by the rest of the players, then nodded to assure her that they could continue without her for a while.

Tianlin rose and crossed the steps, first greeting Sukhe and the newlyweds, then coming before Shan Yu and Marayash. Spreading her skirts, she knelt down facing them. "Are you enjoying the feast and the pageant, Shan Yu Khagan?" she said. "Perhaps you'll be able to convince Marayash to sing us another song."

"Perhaps," he said, casting a friendly glance at Marayash, then switched to Mandarin. "But I'd rather hear you sing, idugan." He furrowed his brow and cast his eyes at the ceiling. "And must you kneel before us like that, as if she and I were the wedded couple? I find the implication disconcerting."

Tianlin flushed and laughed. Then she, too, spoke in Mandarin. "I'm surprised it doesn’t please you. I hope you'll take it as a sign that you are the most esteemed and honored guest ever to visit Urga. Sukhe guards his magnificent niece like a tiger." She glanced at Marayash, who was eying them a bit nervously. "And now, I think I'll be polite and speak so that all three of us can understand."

Shan Yu grinned at her and feigned surprise. "She doesn't understand? From the looks of this lovely little intended bride, I'd say she's at least half Chinese."

"Her mother was Chinese," said Tianlin, still in Mandarin. "One of Sukhe's hostages. But Marayash was just a baby when she died." The idugan laid a hand on Marayash's arm and spoke in Hunnic, "The Khagan was just saying that you are as lovely as the bride, Marayash."

The girl smiled, her golden face smooth but for a fetching dimple on her cheek. "It is my wish to please the Khagan," she said. She reached for more delicacies brought by the serving girls and unwittingly filled his plate with more memories of China.

"Will we have a chance to talk tonight?" Shan Yu addressed Tianlin again, this time in Hunnic. "I am still interested in continuing this afternoon's conversation."

Tianlin glanced at Marayash reassuringly. "The Khagan and I were discussing spiritual matters of mutual interest."

"If the Khagan and the idugan wish to discuss such weighty matters," said Marayash, "who am I to question it?" She gave a barely stifled little yawn. "Even if the subject is rather dry for a wedding celebration."

Shan Yu felt himself bristle slightly at her impertinence. But Tianlin laughed. "To some, perhaps. That's why it is your gift to delight us all with your dancing, singing and beauty--the things one can touch and feel. These are the things men enjoy most of all, are they not?" She looked up at Shan Yu with a slight smile.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Some men," he said in Mandarin.

Below them, the music rang to a stop. Tianlin looked down at the musicians and received a nod from the dark-haired lead musician.

"They're ready!" she exclaimed, rising and turning to Shan Yu and Marayash. "You've never seen anything like this, I promise you. There was only one dancer who came from Eire with my grandmother, and as he grew old, he trained eight young apprentices in his art. I saw a little of what they were practicing. It's an ancient fertility dance for Beltane…ah…the greatest spring feast of my gransmother's tribe. I have to go and play them in!"

She skittered down the steps, giving Sukhe a light tap on the shoulder as she passed, to let him know that the dance was about to begin. As she took her place with the band, one member handed her a round, skin-covered drum with a double-headed stick. Shan Yu watched as the musicians exchanged glances, and at a cue from the dark-haired leader, Tianlin began to beat a wild, driving rhythm on the drum, walking forward from the fire as she called to the four corners of the hall.

"Clear the floor! Make way!"

And at her words, a line of dancers dressed in brilliant purple, orange and gold silks flashed into view at the door and thundered across the floor, their hard-shod feet pounding on the timbers in rhythm with Tianlin's drum. With cries of surprise and delight, the crowd rolled to either side as the dancers sped through the hall, their faces taut with the effort of their movements.

More drums joined in, and the hollow clacking of bones filled the hall, alternating the beat with the dancers' athletic stamping. Shan Yu caught a glimpse of Batu and Gaitan, who had pushed their way to the front of the crowd and now stood gaping at the quicksilver dancers. A wall of pipe and whistle music rose to meet the drums. Close to the players, Ulaan stood smiling, arms folded, nodding and tapping his heel in time with the cadence. Shan Yu smiled and wondered if even the retiring Archer might be drawn in enough to share his own talents.

The drums pounded through the smoke, vibrating his bones and blood with something old and powerful and forgotten. It was true--he never had seen dancers like these. He scanned across their intent faces. Two pale and angular--pure Westerner. But others were obviously half-breeds, the children of Westerners who had found mates among the other players gathered along the Silk Road, or from the look of them, in China. A disquieting, sick feeling rushed through him and was gone. Think of something else, he forced himself. He stared hard at the dancers' feet and let them crush away the evil memories that once again crowded too close.

The revelers pushed in, rose and fell around the dancers as they thundered back and forth, thrusting their hips and moving their heads in stylized, suggestive dance. Close to the bonfire they swept, brushing so close it seemed they must catch the flames in their hair. Sweat rolled down their faces and necks, and shone on their hands, orange and shiny in the flickering light. The music swelled and roared, filling the hall like a storm. Silks and furs swirled together as villagers and guests took up the dance as best they could, some imitating the Celts, and others stepping to traditional tribal movements sped up to three times the usual cadence.

Shan Yu rose without a word, and left Marayash. Only when he stood up did he realize that he had probably let her fill his bowl a few times too many; he hardly felt the steps under his feet as he floated down into the crowd. He stood on the dance floor for a moment to get his bearings while the hot, sweaty riot of colors and smells roiled around him. Where was Tianlin? Though his own head was well above most of the weaving sea of dark hair, he did not see her. The music and pounding rolled up his sides and around his head like the heat of the bonfire. The bodies pressed close around him, and he closed his eyes briefly to shut them out. When he opened them again, he found himself facing the main door, and thought he saw a flash of green silk disappear into the darkness. The bodies whirling around him suddenly made him smile. He would let the dancers carry him outside, too.

He swam slowly through the surging crowd, towards the door, allowing the brushing hands and limbs to gently propel him towards freedom. Someone at his shoulder uttered a loud blessing, "Tanri kut!" and thrust a bowl into his hand as he passed. He glanced down to see it filled with more qimis. A blast of icy air tossed his hair back and sent the revelers near him scurrying towards the warmth and light in the center of the dance. He pulled away from the hall.

Behind him, the dance ended.

The drums, pipes and whistles and the clatter of the dancers' feet stopped. The crowd slowed its whirling as the music stopped, and their voices quieted. For a moment, there was no sound but the hum of the giant bonfire. Then the people erupted into a greater clamor than before. Shan Yu strode onto the landing. The noise of the feast dropped away behind the thick, timber walls, and at last he found himself breathing the familiar arctic wind.

He scanned the porch up and down, but still did not see Tianlin. A twinge of disappointment pinched at him, as he wondered momentarily if she had used the happy confusion inside to cover her escape back to the village and her bed. He could not begrudge her that, after a long journey from China followed by two nearly sleepless working days.

The flat expanse between the hall and corrals was dotted with groups of villagers and visitors seeking quieter entertainment around the bonfires. Flashing between the fires, boisterous children, some on horseback, whooped and chased each other until the adults shooed them off to play farther afield. Shirchin's deep laugh boomed in the distance. Gaitan, Batu and Ulaan, escorted by Jargal and several women, emerged from a side door far down the porch and bounced down the steps to join the storytellers at fireside.

Shan Yu sighed wearily. He had escaped for the time being, but keeping Sukhe as an ally would no doubt require him to submit to his host and matchmaker again before long. He leaned his elbows on the railing was scowling into the bowl of qimis when a whisper came close behind him.

"Do you like that nasty drink?"

He whirled with a great smile to face Tianlin, who had emerged from shadows and now came to stand by him at the railing.

"Someone stuck this in my hand as I was sneaking out the door," she whispered guiltily, holding her own bowl. "I feel like an ungrateful wretch every time I have to drink it. I've just never been able to develop a taste for it. And if I can get away from the toasting, I just have to…"

She looked furtively over her shoulder, then quickly tipped her bowl and sent its contents splattering into the mud. “Oops! I shall have to ask the Mother forgiveness for that!”

He grinned at her, glanced behind him and lowered his head.

"If my men knew I didn't like qimis, they'd think there was something wrong with me," he said quietly. "But if you've grown up on rice wine..." He craned his neck to watch the remainder of her qimis disappear into the soil, but was too slow to right his bowl when it seemed to tip of its own accord, emptying its contents below.

He turned to her upturned, blushing face, stifling a laugh. "Well done, idugan."

"I'm so sorry! I can be so clumsy this late at night." She peered out into the darkness, and seemed to be searching for something. "Do you think I even deserve some sort of replacement, after that?"

"If it's anything but qimis, then you owe me one, too. I'm not sure I can survive Sukhe's hospitality sober."

"Then come along."

She led him down the steps and beyond the western end of the hall. Male laughter pealed from behind a dozen huge stacks of soggy hay piled close to the corrals, and then a lone voice started singing in Goedelic.

"Ah," Tianlin said dryly. "Just in time for the ribald drinking songs. Seems they've started without us." They rounded the stacks to find a small group of men lounging around a massive oaken cask with the girth of a large horse. Some were Urga tribesmen, but half a dozen were the mummers from Lo Yang.

"So how did this batch turn out, Sean?"

"Priesteeessss….!" The dark-haired Celt who bawled the greeting rose, stumbled over, and draped his arms around her. "We've been waiting forever, wondering when you were going to show up!"

She extricated herself and slapped him on the back. "Seems you've been doing pretty well entertaining yourselves without me."

Though the mummers stayed comfortably seated, the tribesmen were instantly on their feet, nearly stumbling in their haste to show respect to the Warlord. Shan Yu waved them back down as Tianlin took his arm and led him into the circle. "Most of you know this man," she said. "But my mummers have not yet had the honor, though they have heard his name. Brothers, welcome Shan Yu Khagan."

At this, the Celts did rise, even taking the trouble to set down their drinks. "Shan Yu Khagan, this is my cousin Sean," she gestured to the dark-haired man who had first greeted them. "And that's Hamish, Sean's partner in crime and brewing." A pink-nosed face fringed with a wiry red beard grinned at him in the firelight. From below it, a hairy hand came out of the shadow and met Shan Yu's grip. Tianlin pointed to each of the mummers in turn, naming them. "And here's Seamus, Ossian, Alex, and Finn." She turned back to the redhead.

"Now Hamish, no one's answered my question. How did this batch turn out?" Hamish reached around to retrieve his stone cup from its spot on the log bench behind him, and lowered his haunches into its place. "Why not find out for yourself?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she said. "We didn't come out into this cold just to hear your singing. Give us some cups, then!"

"And one more," came another voice from behind them. Jargal emerged from the darkness into the faint light cast from the windows of the hall. He bowed slightly to Shan Yu, looking keenly at him from under his brows. "The Khagan honors us with his company."

Sean had rummaged three stoneware cups from his canvas sack and set them by. He gave the cask a loving pat and carefully pulled at the bung. "We've eleven more like this beauty on the wagon," he said, suddenly showing no sign of being tipsy. "Should last us the night, anyway. Whup!" He hastily replaced the bung as the first cup overflowed with white foam.

He held it out for Tianlin. "First taste for you. Don't worry. We've already checked to be sure it's not tainted."

She took a long sip, held the drink in her mouth for a moment before swallowing and exhaling slowly through her nose. She gave her head a shake. "Good! Is that…honey? And…ah. That's unusual." She exhaled another snif. "Cloves?"

"Very good, Priestess!" said Sean. "Hamish thought it was a waste of fine bee's juice and spice, but I swear it made this brew worth gold!"

Hamish lifted his cup and gave a sheepish grin. "Have to admit it. Jaegar would've been proud."

Sean handed brimming cups to Jargal and Shan Yu, then stood back expectantly, arms crossed over his chest. "My lords?"

Shan Yu tipped back his own bowl. The brew was thick and slightly bitter, with tiny bubbles that crackled pleasingly down his throat and sent honey and clove back up his nose.

"Shar qimis!" he exclaimed, bending forward to avoid choking on the unfamiliar foam. "That is different."

"Good different, right?" Sean's brow furrowed.

"Excellent different."

Even Sean's hair seemed to relax into a wide grin at the compliment. "Well, it was worth hauling it all the way from Lo Yang to hear a man of your fame say that!"

Shan Yu took another draught. "Better not let Batu or Gaitan try it, or your barrels will be empty before morning, and I won't get a lick of work out of them."

Tianlin grimaced. "After that hot pepper eating contest Shirchin tricked them into, you might not even get them away from the midden tomorrow."

Shan Yu swiped the foam from his moustache. "You saw that, did you?"

"I was hearing stories about Shirchin's feeding stamina from the girls," she said. "But a while ago I caught him emptying his sleeve onto a platter of leftovers. He's a dangerous man."

"You have no idea," Shan Yu agreed solemnly.

"I hope there will be time for a show of the famous swordsman's art tomorrow, once the horses are ready," said Jargal. "I wouldn't mind testing my steel against his."

"You're a brave man, then, Jargal Noyon," said Shan Yu. "If you mean to try yourself against Shirchin, just be sure he's armed with no more than a staff. Otherwise you might end up a head shorter."

"You make the challenge sound even more tempting, Khagan," he said. "I've heard about Shirchin Noyon's tendency to slip into a battle trance, even in a friendly bout. But perhaps tomorrow we shall have the opportunity to demonstrate for you and your great warriors that we have not been idle in Urga since word came of your plans. We are ready to ride and win honor for our ancestors."

Shan Yu met Jargal's eyes steadily. The Chinese sensibility of the last phrase had not escaped him. "You're wise to prepare yourself for my training," he said simply.

Tianlin watched the exchange uneasily. "Well," she said brightly. "If we all stay up drinking like this late into the night, no one's going to get out of bed, let alone wield a weapon."

"That wouldn't be so bad, Priestess," Seamus said, rocking back against the log. "I'd rather sing than fight, anyway." He lifted his chin, took a breath, and let fly an unsteady wolf howl.

"Oh, Great Herne," groaned Ossian. "His mating call. And I have to share a wagon with him. Still, I have to admit your singing is improving, Lad." He nodded towards a half-grown, shaggy mutt stretched comfortably nearby in the straw. "Bring it up a notch and you might get lucky tonight."

"Come to me, my brown-haired darling!" with loud, smacking noises directed at the dog, Seamus swept his arms wide as though to embrace it, effortlessly delivering a backhand that knocked Ossian backwards over the log. The downed man landed on his back in the straw, one hand aloft holding his perfectly level cup.

"Full-blooded Celt," slurred Finn. "Didn't spill a drop."

Tianlin meanwhile had handed Shan Yu a refilled cup. "We'll leave you to your ale, gentlemen" she said, and turned back towards the Great Hall. "We still have duties to..."

"Not that way," murmured Shan Yu, twirling her braid between two fingers and giving it a soft tug. "I'm not quite ready to go back to that," he said.

He gestured with his head and headed towards the darkened area where the riding horses were corralled. More than one pair of eyes followed as Tianlin walked after him. The dog rose from the straw and padded along. One of the men hurled a pebble at its haunches, but it skittered away with practiced ease, head and tail held low. It stopped to stare back at them, then loped in a wide semi-circle ahead of Shan Yu and Tianlin as they strolled away.

Gusts of night wind brushed past them, swirling away the smells of hearth and food and sweat, bringing them the sweet smell of wet straw from the steppe. Shan Yu lifted his chin and breathed deeply. "That's better."

Tianlin closed her eyes and took in the wind. "It's been too long since I've been anywhere there wasn't a crowd. I miss my quiet little hut in the canyon. But I'll be back there soon enough."

The dog circled them warily, seeking any sign that they might throw a scrap. "It seems we're being followed," said Shan Yu. "Your dog?"

"Not mine. I won't have dogs near my home. They frighten away the wild things."

"Ah. Isn't that the idea?"

"For those who keep dogs, it is," she said. "But not for me. Not for the women of my tribe. Our lineage keeps the company of wild things that are best protected from dogs."

He looked at her in the darkness, could barely see the shine of her bright eyes. "Sukhe tells me that you don't usually live here in Urga." He took a draught and looked off across the dark plains. "Somehow the idea of you all alone in that canyon displeases me."

"I'm safe there," she said. "Sukhe posts sentries. They keep a polite distance unless I invite them in for supper, so I still have my privacy. Since most of the warriors in the nearby camps will be with you, I think I'll be less worried about my own safety than theirs. And yours."

"It is good of you to be concerned for us, but have faith that we'll return safely and in victory."

They had reached the corrals, and she turned to lean back against the smooth logs. "I have faith only that men forget about safety when it comes to seeking victory."

The sound of heavy, slow hoofbeats clopped towards them, and suddenly a great brown head swung over the fence and whuffed loudly into Tianlin's ear. She winced at the tickling of the horse's whiskers, but reached up to wrap her arm around his jaw. "Here's my big puppy. Who needs a dog?" The horse busily nuzzled at her shoulder and stretched as far over the fence as he could reach. "How you'd think my sweet Ju Fang loves me," she said, pressing her cheek against the stallion's flat, hairy one, and holding her bowl at arm's length. "But he just wants the beer!"

Shan Yu cast an experienced eye over horse. He was more than a hand taller at the withers than the others in the herd. "I saw you riding him at the handfasting. So he's yours?"

Tianlin nodded. "A gift from Sukhe three years ago. My big boy was just a yearling then." She patted the side of the stallion's thick, arching neck as his rubbery lips played at her ear.

"Ju Fang. 'Proud Phoenix', eh?" said Shan Yu as he ran a hand along the wiry crest. "Magnificent animal. Not bred from steppe ponies, obviously."

"His grandsire was a huge beast raided more than two decades ago from a Saracen caravan making its way eastward from Byzantium. One of his granddams was a little Arab desert horse, fast as the wind. And he has enough steppe horse blood to be sturdy and sure-footed in the snow, despite his size. I don’t think there's another horse like him, anywhere."

“My last horse in China was named Fang," Shan Yu mused. "He was a tall, long-limbed chestnut. A good-hearted horse. But not a beauty like this one." He cupped the stallion's withers with one hand, and watched with amusement as Ju Fang ignored him and once more stretched his neck hopefully across the fence, his lips meeting with a hollow, thupping sound as he searched for the cup of beer. "And he has good taste," he grinned.

He rubbed the stallion's whiskered chin. "I suppose you'll be sending a fine animal like this with us to the Gobi." He eyed her sidelong with a mischievous gleam.

"Before you take him to war, you'll have to saddle me up for the same purpose!" She grinned, but her voice quavered just the slightest.

"Well, I suppose I could just take him," he pressed, ruffling the stallion's forelock.

Tianlin cocked her head and placed her hands akimbo. "Yes, I suppose you could. But I know you'd never test the idugan's good will so rudely."

He chuckled and relented. “I would be a fool to incur her wrath, considering where I'm headed. I'll leave handsome Ju Fang to look after you."

Tianlin watched the horse sniff wetly at Shan Yu's chest and smiled. "That's odd. He's usually shy around people he doesn’t know. You seem to be as good with horses as I've heard."

"I like them," he said, clamping the stallion's thick muzzle between his cupped hands and giving it a gentle shake. "More than I like most men. I get on well with falcons. Hawks. Even camels. Just not dogs."

Tianlin eyed him with some surprise. "A man who doesn't like dogs?"

"Even a stint in the Imperial Kennels couldn't get me past the memories of an unpleasant childhood encounter," he said sourly. "But maybe it's really because dogs are just too much like men." He glanced down at the little mutt who had followed them, and was now stretched in the dirt few yards away. It was looking up at them expectantly, and seeing Shan Yu's gaze, it thumped its tail in the dust.

"See that instant flattery? Anything to curry favor." He jabbed his chin in the dog's direction. "She's lost whatever trace of wildness ever existed in her ancestors. And she submits to whoever has most recently thrown her a bone."

"Some men value such loyalty."

Shan Yu snorted. "If my men showed me that kind of loyalty, we wouldn't be here together now." His voice grew distant. "Dogs were bred by men to be mindless servants. If a dog has no master, it bands with strangers of its own kind to enjoy the safety of the pack. But there is no loyalty, even there. If the pack is threatened, the dogs scatter. Each will flee to save its own skin."

"You think men are like that?"

"Too many of them are." He met her eyes squarely. "Though not all. An honorable man thinks for himself, but takes orders from only one leader. And his loyalty to his mates is innate and unshakable." A spark of pride lit in his eyes. "My men would die for each other. My men are not dogs. My men are wolves."

She looked up at him. "But what do you know of wolves, Shan Yu?"

He turned to gaze at the southern mountains beyond the steppe. "Enough to know that men should seek to be less like dogs and more like wolves."

He could see from the corner of his eye that she was regarding him intently. Somehow it seemed that his words had touched her, though he could not imagine why.

"Two years ago I saw..." She stopped and glanced down at the dust, as if unsure whether to continue. He waited, but she did not speak.

"What?" His deep voice was very soft, but insistent, though still he stared away towards the south.

"I have always watched wild things," she said slowly. "The last three years I have been watching a family of wolves living near my canyon. I know more about their lives than you might wish to hear. I've told no one until this moment, because they would think I was mad if I told them some of the things I had seen. And that I liked having them around my home--if not too close."

He turned and looked at her squarely. "I would believe you."

She smiled without looking at him. "You say that as if you know."

He nodded slightly, and ran his palm along the polished log rail. "I've seen many things that would surprise you, idugan. Perhaps some day I'll have the chance to tell you of my encounters with wolves. But it seems you know the wolf is not what most men believe he is."

"Yes. I do know that," she said, and at last looked up and met his eyes. "How strange that we both have watched wolves and seen these things!"

"A most unusual coincidence," he said, his voice gentle.

She suddenly shivered and drew her light cloak closer around her. "I think I understand what you meant when you said some men were more like dogs than wolves," she said. "Some men have lost all trace of wildness, too. Those have tried to drive Gazar Eej from their very bones, replacing Her life force with things of their own making." Her voice faded almost to nothing.

Shan Yu searched her face for the sadness that had suddenly come into her voice. I am not the only one dancing around old secrets, he thought. "My men and I are not are not of the same blood," he spoke as much to himself as to her. "We live simply together in the north. But fighting shoulder to back for so long, we've become like a family of wolves. Anda. Spirit brothers. A fearsome force, loyal unto death."

She studied him for a moment, her head cocked. "You are not what I expected, Shan Yu, Khagan."

He gave a half smile. "No?"

"No. Our people all expected you to ride into the village with silk banners streaming, on horses laden with jingling ornaments and sparkling with jewels and fine furs," she said. She ran her fingertips down the sleeve of his forearm. "But the Khagan and his five famous warriors were so humbly appointed when they arrived, in clothes so worn that Sukhe quickly had these made as a gift. Your wealth is no secret to anyone, yet you seem to spend it only on your war preparations, and not on yourselves or on creating a show for those who would follow you.

"And then the six of you took up stations alongside us to tend the horses. You could easily have overseen and commanded us, as one might expect of a man who had brought every rival chieftain to his knees before him. But you worked with us, side by side, refusing even the smallest favors even as they were constantly offered.

"I've known other warrior chieftains, Khagan. They lead their band, but one always can see in their followers' eyes the constant, distant search for weakness in that leader. Like what I see in Jargal. But your men are different. It is in their eyes and their bearing, that you are bonded by something as strong as blood. You truly are a pack of wolves. The people watch and are awed by you, though fear is always just at the edge of their watching."

Shan Yu listened silently, wondering where her soliloquy would lead.

She smiled and looked up at him. "You yourself are not what I expected. When I saw you from a distance for the first time, with that fierce, downturned moustache meant to give you a perpetual scowl, with that square-shouldered walk, I thought to myself, this man wants to be feared. But here you are, drinking beer with me and my horse!"

At this he laughed aloud, but still did not let his guard down completely. "Well, you'd better give him some, now that you've offered."

Tianlin quickly turned her face downward and fidgeted with her hands. "Ai. As usual, I've talked too much. I hope I have not given offense, Shan Yu Khagan. I must sound like a..."

He quickly turned to her, gathered both her hands in his left hand. "I have never been so pleased to be called a common man."

She smiled a little, still seeming embarrassed. Then a look of mild alarm crossed her face, and she took a step back. "Gazar Eej! How long have we been out here? We really should get back to the festivities," she said. "We've probably been missed by now."

"Ah, just when things become interesting," he said, straightening, but did not release her hands.

"Especially because things are becoming interesting," she whispered. "It would be unseemly for anyone to find us out here alone together, though we both know there is nothing dishonorable happening."

"As you wish, idugan," he said with a grin. He declined to mention that his most recent thoughts had not been entirely honorable.

She started to turn, then paused and spoke. Her voice became soft and singsong, almost as if she were trancing. "Shan Yu," she said quietly. "What is this terrible thing that drives you onward? I sense some grim memory that keeps you from wasting strength on shallow displays of power. You stoke some fire within you until it is ready to be released all at once on one chosen enemy."

She raised a hand to her face and shook it slowly back and forth, as if she herself did not quite believe what she had said.

He was speechless. His mind raced, as a cold chill shivered across his shoulders. What had just happened? How had she suddenly spoken from nowhere and cut so close to his bones? Where might she have learned such things? He regained himself quickly. "What would give you such a wild idea," he laughed softly. "I lead our people to regain the ancestral lands, as is our right. That is no secret." He did not sound convincing to himself, but he hoped it was enough for her.

"Of course you are," she said, raising her eyes to his again. 'I...I am sorry. I have no idea what came over me." She took a great breath and expelled it, as if trying to clear her head, and once again turned towards the Great Hall. "Well. I've managed to ruin what started out as a nice outing."

In spite of himself, Shan Yu felt a warm relief spread through his chest. Your head knows it's not wise to trust, he chided himself. Why is the rest of you so eager, all of a sudden, in the presence of this woman? Then again, if she were really a spy, she would not be so clumsy with her tongue.

From his post at the railing, Ju Fang whickered as they walked away, and gave a loud, wet snort of annoyance that no treat was forthcoming. He half-reared, and cantered off to join the other horses.

"Back our own kind, too," Tianlin said. "My work isn't over yet this night."

"I know," sighed Shan Yu. "Still, I'm sorry to end the most pleasant hour of my journey so far."

"Now who is the flatterer!” she said, but he could tell even from behind her that she was smiling. "You mean to tell me that hours of feasting with lovely young girls following your every move has not been pleasant? And Marayash at their head!"

"I hadn't noticed," said Shan Yu dryly as they crunched across the gravel. "You know how this works as well as I do." He sent a blast of frosty breath into the night. "Oh, the price I pay for weapons, horses and supplies!"

As they reached the light of the bonfires, Tianlin tapped Shan Yu on the arm and motioned to one of the groups at fireside. Lasuluun was there, in the center of a ring of children watching him make hand shadows against the wide, upright beams of the porch. Across the fire from him sat the young woman with whom he had left the hall earlier that afternoon.

"Lasuluun seems to enjoy entertaining the children," said Tianlin.

"Especially when they have pretty mothers," answered Shan Yu. "Though I should warn them. Once he has the children completely absorbed with shadows of bunnies and lambs, he'll segue into his more challenging repertoire." He arched his brows. "Las actually does a quite a convincing shadow-beheading."

Tianlin stifled a snicker. "Well, that doesn't seem to be his mood tonight, at least so far."

They watched Lasuluun playfully cuff a young boy across the top of his head for his inability to properly mimic the shadows he was being taught. The boy ducked and giggled, snatching at the Tracker's hand.

"Shan Yu Khagan!" Sukhe stood in the doorway with Marayash under one arm and beckoning with the other. "We have missed your company!"

"Duty calls!" Tianlin whispered cheerfully. "I think I'll go hide before they notice me. Not that I'm of any interest to them right now." She gave him a sympathetic look and headed off to one of the fire circles where Batu and Gaitan were sitting, waving their arms as they related a tale to the others around the fire. Shirchin and Ulaan lounged at the edge of the firelight. Tianlin entered the circle and was greeted warmly by the rest.

"Shan Yu!" Sukhe was calling again. "Marayash is going lead the dancing!"

He downed the rest of his ale, and marched dutifully up the steps, though he knew exactly where he would rather be.

From miles away, the lights around the Great Hall were little more than a smudge against the base of the hills. Watchful eyes knew of the feast, and that there was little likelihood that sentries would be watching this far off. Swiftly, almost silently, a band of riders more than a hundred strong loped along the foothills across the flat plain from Urga, making their way to the high ridges between the canyons and the trail leading to the Silk Road. Under cover of the celebration's raucous distraction, the lone rider who was to steal away from the village to meet them would not be noticed missing.

Tonight, they would camp without fires.

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