Horselords (зк-1) by David Cook

Author:David Cook [Cook, David]
Language: rus
Format: epub
Tags: sf_fantasy

That night there was a council in Yamun's tent. Outside, the finest and most trusted of the nightguards ringed the yurt. Each was dressed in full armor and heavily armed. They were nervous and jumpy. Already several rabbits had died from rapidly fired arrows when they made a little noise in the bushes. The guards eyed each other as well. The rumors were already circulating through the camp-stories of treachery among Yamun's bodyguards, whole cadres of wizards, and evil monsters rising out of the ground.

Those inside the yurt were no less tense. The spacious tent was almost completely dark. A small iron pot of glowing red coals provided the only illumination, barely lighting the grim faces of the men present. Yamun lay on his bed, conscious but very weak. There was very little color in his face. Under Koja's supervision, he was covered with several layers of heavy felt blankets. Perspiration beaded on Yamun's brow as the priest tried to sweat the poison out of the khahan's system. Sitting on the rugs at the side of Yamun's bed were Jad and Goyuk, little more than dark shapes in the darker yurt.

Koja had spent the last hour carefully telling his version of the day's events. Jad sat with his head bowed to the floor. Goyuk nodded as he considered the priest's words. Koja, now finished describing how he had treated the khahan's wounds, sat silently with his hands on his knees, waiting for the others to speak.

"It is good to have gods on your side, even if they are the gods of strangers," Goyuk said in a rambling tone. It was very late and the day had been long. Fatigue was showing on the old khan's face; his eyes drooped and he slumped as if he were some exhausted vulture.

From his bed, Yamun sighed and focused on the big guard at the back of the yurt. "Sechen, did it happen as the lama said?"

The guard shambled forward, nodding. "What I saw is as the priest said, Khahan," the wrestler answered, stiffly bowing.

"I remember the guard attacking and the wound," Yamun added. He pushed himself up onto one elbow. "Historian, you saved my life. Therefore, Koja of the Khazari, I ask you to be my anda." Yamun weakly extended a hand to the priest. There was a gasp from the group.

"Great Lord! I—I am not worthy of this," Koja stammered, his face reddening with embarrassment.

"That's not for you to say. I choose who will be my anda." Yamun pushed his shaking hand out toward Koja.

"Father!" protested Jad. "You are weak and need rest. Think on this later."

Yamun growled, "Be silent, my son. Koja saved my life and that has earned him the right."

"Yes, Khahan," Jad replied, cowed.

Yamun looked toward Goyuk to see if he had any objections. The old khan only sucked on his gums, keeping his counsel to himself. The khahan shifted his gaze back to the lama.

"Well, priest?"

Koja took a breath to steady himself. "I cannot argue with your wishes. I am greatly honored.

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