horses

More than two hours passed before Shan Yu returned to the campsite. Alone at fireside, Lasuluun was absently stirring the dying coals with a stick and did not look up as he heard him approach. "Get lost again?"
"As hard as I try to escape, I always seem to end up back here with you."
Lasuluun glanced up, noticed Shan Yu's wet hair and damp clothes. "Oh no..."
"It's a hot spring, and it's sheltered. And it won't kill you."
The voices of the four others returning to the campsite wafted from the distance. Gaitan walked in the middle of the group. As he entered the grove and passed by the pile of riding gear neatly arranged at the edge of the clearing, he leaned down and scooped up his saddle, hackamore and blankets. His massive arms loaded with tack, he called across his load to his companions. "We are going to get out of here soon, right? I'm looking forward to spending the night with someone besides you ugly boars. That means we'd better arrive before sunset. I like to be able to see what's sharing my furs."
"You'll have better luck luring someone if we arrive after dark," said Ulaan. "When all the torches are put out."
"No use. They'll still smell him coming," added Batu.
Gaitan still had enough freedom of movement to reach out and and cuff his brother's ear. "You're one to talk."
"Ulaan," said Shirchin slowly. "You'd better hope Gaitan finds a willing girl tonight. I've been riding behind you for three weeks now, and for the past few days...well...I don't like the way he's been looking at your ass."
Ulaan waved dismissively. "Gaitan likes a rump with a lot more meat on it than mine." He stopped in midstride. "But now you've got me worried about my horse."
"Sons of whores!" Gaitan barked over his comrades' groans. "Oh. Not you, Batu."
Shan Yu ambled over, lashing his sword and scabbard across his back.
Batu stared in forlorn disbelief. "Ai, Shan, no. It's freezing."
The corners of Shan Yu's eyes crinkled slightly as he gestured with his head. "Right up that way. Just follow the sulfur smell."
Gaitan winced. "Didn't we just do this?"
"In the two weeks since, that grease you've smeared all over yourselves has taken on a life of its own. My officers will not ride into Urga smelling like a herd of dead goats."
By now, they knew better than to challenge this particular Chinese custom. Obediently, they dropped their gear and shuffled after Lasuluun.
"And while you’re at it, rinse out your clothes," said Shan Yu. "All of it. You’re making my eyes water."
Not intending to be overheard, Gaitan grumbled under his breath. "A few more baths and I’ll turn Khyatad."
As Gaitan walked past, Shan Yu smoothly withdrew his sword from the scabbard hung across his back and swung it in a slow, wide arc, giving Gaitan's rump a swat with the flat of the blade. "Then the bustards will be delighted to have something so nice and fat to eat," he said. "Phew! Whoever your bedmate turns out to be tonight, she should do more than thank me. She should pay me."

The five warriors returned to find their commander collecting an armful of halters. "Who's with me?" Lasuluun took several of the halters from him, slung them over his shoulder, and followed Shan Yu towards the open plain where their mounts had ranged far afield to graze.
The two strode through the drying grass in silence, as was their wont. There was a special bond between them, forged in part by the grim nature of their first meeting. In his flight from China four years after his father's death, Shan Yu had come upon Lasuluun before he had met any other Huns, and had unwillingly shared in a tragedy both of them preferred to bury deep in their memories. The story was not fully known to their mates and, like Shan Yu's reasons for leaving China, it had been left untouched for more than a decade.
Lasuluun was first to spy the horses. He pointed them out with a nod. Shan Yu sent a sharp whistle from between his teeth. The grazing horses' heads shot up as one, the noise nearly setting the flighty animals bolting until they recognized who called them. The dun mare tossed her head and set off towards them at a gawky, muscular trot. There was nothing graceful about these horses. Their breed had evolved to pace a prairie pocked with holes and deep runoff troughs, dotted with sharp rocks and scrub. A horse who naturally extended itself into a full gallop on terrain like this would soon be a dead horse. But the ponies could run endlessly, when asked. No one but another Hun horseman could keep pace with one who decided he did not want company.
The mare reached Shan Yu and shoved her forehead into his chest, knocking him back a step. He grinned at her, fondly tousling her dark, bristling forelock as he slipped the hackamore over her head. Lasuluun regarded them with the mild bemusement he always felt when he watched Shan Yu with the horses. Most of his people treated their mounts with great care, as vital travel machines, but did not feel emotional attachment to them or even name them. Shan Yu's more personal bond with his charges had long been a source of puzzlement to his comrades. But Lasuluun had to admit that it was easier to round up horses with Shan Yu than with anyone he knew.
The rest of the beasts trotted up and milled around them, suffering the men to halter and lead them back to camp where their riders fitted them with their tack and gear.
"Murindu! Mount up!" barked Lasuluun. The six turned their horses' heads to the southwest and were off over the windless plain.
The sun was high, the weather mild and pleasant. The six horsemen made good time, though it wasn't necessary. Every so often, without warning, one would ride up and slap the rump of his comrade's mount in an invitation to race that was taken up instantly by the horse itself. The riders did not sit their horses, but stood in the stirrups, smoothly using their powerful legs to absorb the shock. In thus avoiding the jarring of their steeds' natural gait, they did as much work as the horses themselves. Yet they rode without stopping.
Hours later, as the sun descended towards the crevices in the mountain range, a dust cloud appeared in the distance ahead of them. As it rolled closer, the sound of dozens of voices ululating a wild greeting floated through the air. Village horsemen had come to escort the famous Khovsgol warriors into Urga.
Shan Yu and his men altered neither gait nor direction as three dozen riders on shaggy mounts thundered past on either side of them, then wheeled to run alongside. All were young men and boys, their faces bright with excitement. Many of them would accompany Shan Yu and his band to the desert training ground, though most had never seen battle. Growing up in the relative peace of the settlement, they had gained their skill as archers and horsemen by hunting game, not men. They were eager to learn the latter.
Shan Yu raised his hand to slow the group to a trot. In the growing gloom, he did not wish the horses to stumble and harm themselves. They would need each one for the coming conflict.

The light on the high glaciers of the Khangai Nuruu to the south was fading from pink to dusty lavender when a constellation of torches became visible among the foothills of the lesser mountains close to the north. Urga was nestled in a tree-filled canyon much like the one where they had spent the previous night, though this one was much flatter and wider.
The settlement was an anomaly on the steppe, where most lived in nomadic, extended family camps. On this land, made fertile by the Khoid Tatur Gol, people of several tribes and mixed heritage had united to take up a semi-agricultural existence to support their mainstay, herding. Urga had flourished for more than thirty years. Early on, roving bands of thieves occasionally had attempted to pillage, but always had been ferociously rebuffed. Word spread quickly, and no one had disturbed the canyon's inhabitants for years. It was widely known as a place where nomads could find temporary shelter and respite from the wandering life.
As Shan Yu and his comrades approached the lights, they made out the shape of a lone horseman, thickly wrapped in furs, riding towards them. As he drew near, the wind blew back his hood to reveal a completely bald head ornamented with a network of dark tattoos.
Without taking his eyes from the approaching stranger, Shan Yu leaned over and spoke to the rider at his left. "What's your name, boy?"
The face that swung to meet his bore the dark silk of a first beard, and the eyes were wide with disbelief that the famous Warlord had addressed him. "I am Temur, Khagan," he said.
Shan Yu paused, momentarily amused that even the village boys had been instructed to address him as Khagan. "Who rides to meet us?"
"Sukhe, Khan of Urga," he said and rose a bit higher in his saddle. "My father, Khagan."
He looked over at Lasuluun, riding on Temur's other side. "Sukhe!" he switched to Mandarin so that only Lasuluun could understand him. "I hardly recognized him. He's lost even more hair than I have!" He looked back at Temur and spoke in Hunnic. "Have the tributes and supplies I commanded from the surrounding camps arrived?"
"Yes, Khagan. Weapons, armor and supplies await your inspection. Much of the stores are already on their way to the desert, as you ordered. Still more are on their way from China with our caravan of traders who travel there each year." The boy grinned. "I am sure the Khyatad would be surprised to know that they are supplying some of the metals to be used against them!"
Shan Yu gave him a sharp look, but said nothing. He was not at all pleased to learn that Sukhe seemed to have commissioned such an import without informing him. A caravan loaded with supplies suitable for manufacturing weaponry was sure to raise suspicions south of the Wall.
"Sukhe is pleased to accommodate your request to examine the herd yourself, Khagan," said Temur with growing confidence. "Your reputation as a Horsemaster is known across the steppes. But in anticipation of your needs, he also has retained the services of Urga's healer, who has great experience in handling horses and their ailments."
"If we were a nation of united people," said Shan Yu, said with a touch of sarcasm that only Lasuluun noticed, "I would say he was most patriotic."
He gave his mare a nudge in the ribs and a breathed command, "Tchoo!" She immediately broke away from the rest, in full gallop. The young village riders made motion to spur their mounts, but brought them up short at Lasuluun's raised hand, surrounding him with a swirl of dust as they abruptly halted and bobbed around him. A hundred feet away, Shan Yu and Sukhe had met and grasped each other's forearms in greeting. The two spoke for a few moments, inaudible to the mounted throng, then broke off and faced the riders.
"Urga welcomes Shan Yu Khagan and Noyon Lasuluun, Ulaan, Shirchin, Gaitan and Batu," cried Sukhe. "What is ours, is yours. These great warriors honor us with their presence, and we are eager to ride with them to the Gov Orshamo to prepare for war against the Khyatad!"
As the Urga riders howled their approval, Shan Yu and his five soldiers nodded their acceptance, spurred their horses forward and followed Sukhe into the warm light of the village.

The gers lining the torchlit paths looked more permanent than the ones usually erected by the nomadic tribes, but they seemed familiar and friendly to the six travelers who welcomed the chance to escape sleeping in the open. Women and children stood in front of the felt tents, uttering the same warbled greeting that their men had given out on the plains.
"See anything promising?" Batu muttered under his breath to his brother.
Ulaan rolled his eyes. "Can't you two even wait `til you're off your horses?"
"I'm only looking."
Ulaan surveyed the people on the streets and grunted as he caught the gaze of a young woman who met his eyes without shyness. "They do seem to be looking back." He smiled at the dark-haired beauty as the company rode past, and stroked his chin. "I might start to like this place."
Gaitan gave a great guffaw and clapped Ulaan across the back. "I'll have first pick!"
Shirchin leaned over to Lasuluun. "Faithless louts, all. But my wager's on Ulaan, as usual." He gave a hearty laugh and nudged his mount to pick up the pace.
Sukhe led the horsemen to the center of the village where an immense pine tree towered more than seventy feet above them. At least a dozen pit fires had been built in the wide, open space around the tree, and from them wafted the rich, garlicky smell of mutton roasting with wild herbs.
"Yes, I think I am starting to like this place," Ulaan murmured to no one in particular.
Shan Yu relaxed slightly as he surveyed the scene. "This is a welcome sight after so long in the saddle, Sukhe Khan."
"All of Urga is honored to receive you and your men, Shan Yu," said Sukhe. "But we will not weary you tonight, after your long journey. Tomorrow, when you are rested, you will receive the welcome due a Khagan."
Before their horses were led away into the darkness by Sukhe's servants, Ulaan unlashed a damp, chamois-wrapped package, still cold from the ice he had packed with his dressed pheasants. Casually, he ambled about, pretending not to watch as the villagers who had lined the paths milled into the square.
There she was.
Once he was certain the pretty young woman had seen him, he presented the pheasants to Sukhe with a cool, practiced flourish. "Please accept a small contribution to your fare from this weary but grateful hunter!"
From the corner of his eye, he could see that she was smiling at his antics. He was going to enjoy this layover.

All the village--more than four hundred people--seemed to be there in the circle surrounding the great tree, enjoying the feast that had been laid in honor of the northern warriors. Having eaten their fill, Shan Yu and his men sat with Sukhe, his wife, Baaja, and their four grown sons and their wives. They watched with peaceful detachment as children, unaccustomed to being allowed up so long after dark, raced about and rough-housed with each other and with a few large, well-fed dogs that served as their guardians. Under the great tree, a small group of musicians played, filling the still, warmly lit night with strident, familiar melodies that had been passed for centuries from parent to child, as was the way of the musician-bard families. Sukhe filled his guests' wooden bowls for the third time from a large, ceramic jug that had been warming on the stones at fire's edge.
"Excellent rice wine," said Shan Yu casually, raising his cup and filling his lungs with the hot, sweet vapor. "Even with all the border trouble, you had traders passing through from China?"
"Not traders. This was a gift from our Healer, Tianlin," said Sukhe with a grin, his cheeks flushed from the liquor. "Stronger than qimis!" He topped off Shan Yu's bowl and ran the cork up the side of the jug to catch the precious drops running down the side. "But our trade situation might surprise you."
Shan Yu was suddenly attentive, now that his query had led in the direction he wished. Still he remained relaxed, not wishing to give Sukhe any hint of how closely he was listening.
"Tianlin travels through China to the coast every summer to trade furs, medicines and other of our goods in the seaside market near Chien K'ang. And each year, I am the fortunate recipient of something like this, when our traders return with enough foreign supplies to last the village through the winter and most of the year." He touched his bowl to Shan Yu's and downed the wine. "To your health and success, Khagan."
Shan Yu took a draught of the hot wine and stilled the unease that had suddenly awakened in him. "This Tianlin manages to get a caravan of Huns across the border with no trouble? Is he Chinese?"
"Not he. She. And though many of our villagers have Chinese blood in their veins, Tianlin does not. She is of mixed blood, born and raised in a seaside village north of Chien K'ang." He gave a muffled burp. "Keeps many contacts there and in Lo Yang. That makes the annual travel to the port city much easier for our small herd of trader pilgrims." He lowered his voice. "This year I have instructed Tianlin and my half-brother Jargal to surreptitiously bring supplies which might be of great use to you in your effort, Shan Yu Khagan. I will introduce them both to you when they arrive. No doubt they will expect your questions."
"I trust they have been secretive, Sukhe." Shan Yu's voice was low and stern. He did not betray his slight rush of relief at the mention of Jargal's name. "A mustering of forces this large will be difficult to keep completely secret, but the less said about it, the better. Especially south of the Wall." Hearing that Jargal had been in charge of the caravan immediately set Shan Yu's heart at greater ease. He studied Sukhe for a long moment, and decided that even the old chieftain did not seem to suspect that his own half-brother had been the Khagan's trusted spy and agent for many years.
"Temur tells me that you've hired this healer to help with the horses," he said, leaning back as Sukhe topped off his cup. "Will your caravan arrive in time for that?"
"This morning's messenger told me the horses are within a day's reach. I suspect our men will have them herded into the corrals by tomorrow. As for Tianlin and the other traders? We never know exactly when they will return from Chien K'ang. But our last messenger said they were within a day’s journey. Everything is falling into place. Tomorrow is a new moon. An auspicious time for beginnings. In the meantime, I've organized skilled groups to help with the wrangling." He glanced at Shan Yu from under slightly raised brows. "I was surprised to learn that you wish to do physical work with the horses yourself, Khagan. We have plenty of workers to…"
"There are some things I trust to the hands of others," said Shan Yu, "but judging a horse's soundness is not among them." Shan Yu looked off across the fires. "My soldiers will be entrusting their lives to these good beasts' hooves and hearts. I prefer to examine as many mounts as I can with my own hands and eyes."
Sukhe was in good spirits, and did not take the comments as a slight. "Then I am glad I have retained Tianlin to help. Excellent horsemaster, that one. And though your own reputation as a horsemaster precedes you," he laughed. "with so many to examine, I suspect you will be grateful for as many pairs of skilled hands as we can offer you."
"I'm sure your people will do you great honor with their work, Sukhe," said Shan Yu. "Your contribution to this effort already has been invaluable--far greater than that of the other khans."
Sukhe leaned back and fairly glowed with pleasure at the praise. Shan Yu smiled inwardly. Sukhe was probably already counting the wagonloads of spoils he hoped would return from China to his own coffers in Urga. He had no idea of what his own men would be facing in a few months. Sukhe was a fair and benevolent chieftain, well loved by his people, but he was no fighter. The Warlord gazed absently over the dying embers of their fire. In the safety of the village and relaxed by the wine, he suddenly realized how very tired he was.
Shirchin wore a sleepy and wistful expression, and his tongue was loosened a bit by the hot wine. "This has been a great welcome, Sukhe. The music. The children. It makes me think of home."
"I guess we can forgive the old man for being sentimental," Batu said, dropping a hand onto Shirchin’s great, square shoulder. "Hasn't seen his family since late summer. His eldest son is gathering another group west of us, and won't be meeting us at the Gobi for another week, at least. And he's left his beautiful new bride back home, unguarded."
Shirchin shot Batu a mildly annoyed glance, but was too comfortable to react beyond that.
Sukhe lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Six magnificent concubines were part of the tribute sent here to meet you and your warriors, Shan Yu. If you would like companionship, my women have told me that they are waiting eagerly for your …"
"Your offer is gracious, Sukhe," said Shan Yu, casting his gaze on Gaitan. "But it seems that our long travels have taken their toll. We will be in better condition to appreciate such treasure after a night's rest. Agreed, Gaitan?"
The big man's chin rested on his collarbone as he quietly snored his answer.
"So I see," said Sukhe, smiling at the corner of his mouth. "And no doubt you will find sleeping in a comfortable ger a relief after so long in the saddle. We have prepared dwellings exactly as you commanded, Khagan. Three of you to a ger, though we would gladly have provided a large, private tent for each of you."
Shan Yu smiled into the darkness and downed the last of his wine. More than once, his life had been saved because he did not allow himself or his men to sleep individually in a strange camp, no matter how friendly it might seem.
Batu roused his twin, who grumbled sleepily for a moment that he hadn’t had a chance to find anyone to share his furs. "Tomorrow, then," he yawned, casting a slow search over the villagers who were starting to make their way to their own gers.
The six followed their host to the lodgings where wool-stuffed beds generously equipped with thick furs and blankets awaited them. The still night was already bitterly cold, and for the weary travelers, it would seem far too short.

Secure within the village, vaguely aware that sentries kept watch in all directions, Shan Yu lay staring into the darkness above him until the regular breathing of his tentmates, Lasuluun and Shirchin, told him they were asleep. The taste of the wine still burned pleasantly on his breath. As he closed his eyes, a long-forgotten childhood memory washed over him. From high in the branches of a cherry tree, he watched his parents, Xiang and Mei, sitting on a wooden bench and surrounded by whirling cascades of white petals caught in the early spring breeze. They were sharing a small vase of rice wine which Mei had warmed for her husband to welcome him home from his most recent military excursion. She caressed Xiang's cheek with a hand in which she held a violet-blue orchid he had brought home for her. The shimmering vision lingered, then faded into a dull ache of loss before he descended into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The six slept later than usual. Shan Yu was first to awaken. As he lifted the tent flap to peer out, the bright morning light blinded him, then melted into a row of eight young women, kneeling patiently in wait. Shan Yu thought he recognized the girl who had caught Ulaan's fancy the night before. She rose and modestly approached. "I am Somiya, great Khagan," she said. "Sukhe has sent us to bring you to break your fast with him."
Shan Yu emerged, smiled at the women and thumped the latticed sides of the tents with his boot. "Morning, Noyon!" Muffled groans answered him. "Out. Our host has been waiting for us."
The women giggled behind their hands as the men came out, stretching and scratching in rumpled, but obedient stupor. Shan Yu gave Batu a light swat on the belly with the back of his hand, and commanded out of the corner of his mouth. "If you want to impress these beautiful women, you'd better suck in that great belly of yours." His mild jest sent the women into paroxysms of laughter that were far out of measure with the levity of the joke. They had been prepared well, he thought with some amusement. Sukhe was trying to make a good impression.
The company spent much of the morning with Sukhe and his family in their host’s large, permanent ger, lavishly furnished with polished, ornamented chairs and benches carved from solid pine and hardwood. Shan Yu was running a palm along the shining back of a hare carved into his chair’s armrest when Baaja came up behind him and touched her fingers to the wood.
"Beautiful, are they not?" she whispered to him. "They are the work of my Temur's hands." Her eyes shone with pride for her youngest son’s artistry. Though the others in the ger were speaking in spirited voices of the coming training, and not likely to notice their conversation, she lowered her voice, as if not wishing to be overheard by her sons. "Altan and Xiart are gifted hunters. And Zoltan shows great promise as a Horse Master. But Temur is truly touched by Gazar Eej. In his art, he brings dead things back to life in other forms. And he is studying the healing arts with Tianlin."
Shan Yu turned in his seat to face her and said quietly, "I have not seen such fine work since I left China. Unusual that such a highborn son should take up a craft like this. But your village is fortunate to have such a gifted artisan. All of Urga has grown and prospered beyond belief since I was last here."
Something had caught Baaja's eye behind him. "We have treasures that we hope might tempt you to think of Urga as your home," she said, and rose to open her hands to a tall, beautiful young woman who had appeared with a tray of dried fruit. She put an arm around the girl's slender waist and steered her towards Shan Yu. "Ah, see what Marayash has here," she said smiling broadly. "The Khagan would honor us by enjoying the sweetness of our harvest."

When by late morning the horses had still not arrived, Shan Yu gave the day to his men to spend as they chose. Ulaan left in the company of Somiya. Gaitan and Batu allowed themselves to be surrounded and escorted by half a dozen other young women as they left the ger. Shan Yu left alone, asking Sukhe that he be left to himself and not followed by eager servants. As he strolled along the clear paths towards village square, he was surprised to see, huddled amidst the trees, at least two dozen stone huts butted against the canyon walls. Such structures were almost unknown in this land of nomads. He walked over to one, lifted a leather flap covering the doorway and saw that the huts were well stocked with survival goods and dried, preserved foods. At the back of the dwelling, a dark opening into the mountainside gaped silently, its edges carved with runes to placate the earth spirits. Shan Yu lifted his brows in surprise. He had heard of such storage tunnels, far colder than the open air, but had never seen one. If each of the huts was so equipped and filled with goods, and still more was preserved in the cave, there was easily enough to carry the village through winter and beyond. He wondered briefly how Sukhe had been able to amass such a store of goods, and how Urga had come to be so wealthy. Despite the apparent richness of the pastures, winters here were always harsh, and the growing season was short. Despite the warmth with which he had been received here, a wave of mild suspicion prickled through him.
He backed out of the hut, turned to rest his shoulder blades against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. From between the trees, he scanned the village square. Across the wide space, he could see Ulaan suavely courting his new admirer. At the base of the great pine, Batu and Gaitan were animatedly telling stories to their small group of young women. He didn't see Shirchin, and figured that his swordsman had wandered off into the canyon, perhaps in an attempt to remain true to Ondalho, the new bride who waited faithfully for him back home. He glanced back at Ulaan and wondered how the fiery, regal Iriltai would react if she knew of her husband's village adventures. The Archer's horse would doubtless be laden with guilt gifts for his wife on the journey back home.
Shan Yu scanned the cliffs rising on either side of the canyon, and there spied Lasuluun sitting high above the village square on a flat overlook. He decided that was where he would like to be, too, and set off for a vantage point some distance away from the one his tracker had chosen.

He climbed for several hundred feet before finding a flat area where he could stand and survey the scene. It was easy to see why Urga had grown up here. To the north, the canyon housing the village snaked back for several miles into the mountains. Unlike many of the canyons farther south, this one was thickly forested with pines and some deciduous trees. Odd, he thought. Some of these look almost like the fruit trees in mother's orchards back in the Ch'ang An valley. At the edge of the woods, small, cultivated fields showed signs of recent harvest. Far across the grassland to the south, several more wooded ravines wound up between the rising foothills. Lines of birches and scrubby willows marked the runoff streams that fed the Khoid Tatur, whose wide, blue back wove through the sea of grass like some great serpent. Beyond the river and the foothills, the dizzying peaks of the Khangai Nuruu were already dusted with early snow. Though the mountain range itself was at least a day's journey away, the closest canyons looked to be little more than few hours' ride on a good horse. There was plenty of room for expansion, should the peoples' wants exceed the resources of the rich area they already inhabited.
Shan Yu spoke, without turning his head. "You're losing your touch."
"Damn." The rangy tracker stalked down from where he had been stealthily creeping up on his friend. "No more rice wine for me." He scanned the village below. "Beautiful place. Could almost make you want to settle down."
"Whether we're welcome here after tonight remains to be seen," Shan Yu said with a crooked grin, motioning with his chin towards Batu and Gaitan in the village square far below them. "Those aren't the concubines Sukhe was talking about."
"Ah, those two are harmless enough." Lasuluun dropped to his haunches and plucked a dry stalk of grass. He absently chewed its end as he looked down on the two gigantic brothers. "I think it's sweet how they're already collecting things to share with their wives."
"Must you put such unpleasant thoughts in my head?"
Lasuluun smirked. "Commander, you must be ready to handle small emergencies."
Shan Yu's lip curled. "They'll handle their own."
Las snorted and fell silent. He closed his eyes and tested the wind. "There's a storm coming from the North."
"Yes. That would be us."
"Very poetic," he said. "Practicing to converse with the genteel Toba so soon? But I'm serious. That's why the weather's so mild now. Storm coming through. I can smell the wind and rain. If the horses arrive then, it's not going to be easy out there."
"We'll deal with it when the time comes. We knew we might face some late thunderstorms. Not much farther to the training site. We should receive word today or tomorrow that the first troops have arrived, and we won't be far behind with the herd."
His face expressionless, Lasuluun nodded, twirling the grass stalk between his teeth. "It's going to be an interesting winter, my friend."
"Not compared to spring."

copyright 1998, D.M. Krempels

Return to The Ger.

---