Wolf of the Steppes by Harold Lamb

Author:Harold Lamb [Harold Lamb]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Central, Action & Adventure, Fantasy, Steppes - Asia, Cossacks, Steppes, Asia, General, Science Fiction, Adventure Fiction, Historical Fiction, Central - History - 16th Century, Fiction, Short Stories
ISBN: 9780803280489
Publisher: Bison Books
Published: 2006-06-30T22:00:00+00:00

V

“And now, Lhon Otai—if that be your name—you can tell me whence you and your men come, and why you follow me into the Dead World.”

As Gurd spoke, his clear black eyes scanned the shaman thoughtfully. They were camped for the night well beyond reach of the dismounted Tatars, in a grotto by a small stream in the waste country. Around them reared a nest of rocky hillocks, barren even of firs. The cold wind of the North searched the ravine where they were and fanned the fire Gurd had lighted. The hunter, however, seemed to know his way. He had led them without hesitation to the grotto. Lhon Otai bethought him swiftly.

“We came, I and my men,” he explained, “from the khans of the Jun-gar. Khlit, the Kha Khan, ordered that you be brought to him. He has heard tales of your hunting.”

Gurd, busy toasting meat on a wooden spit, made no response. “I did as the Kha Khan bade me,” went on Lhon Otai. “We learned the course you had taken from the hamlet of Irkutsk. Then hunters told us you had been seen heading for the Lena. Before long my men found the trail of your reindeer.”

Still Gurd was silent.

“We heard you had left Changa Nor,” the shaman said uneasily. “But we meant not to harm you.”

Gurd bared his teeth, but he did not laugh.

“My cousin the lynx, O Shaman,” he said softly, “has followed us, unseen by you. He is near by, in the rocks, sniffing at the roasting meat. Shall I call him? Or will you tell me truth instead of lies? In a month I would return to Irkutsk with ivory. The Kha Khan could have found me then. Why did he send after me to the North? What were you doing near Changa Nor?”

The shaman threw a fearful look at the rocks behind him. “What do I know of the will of the khans?” he whined. “Did I come willingly to the North? Nay, Khlit has a mind to Changa Nor and what it hides. He has been there with his horsemen—” A change came over the impassive face of the hunter. His eyes narrowed in anger, and his heavy hand clutched the spit.

“Who brought the khans to Changa Nor?” he cried. “Come, speak—”

“They attacked the castle, Gurd,” ventured Lhon Otai shrewdly, “and because of the accursed fires that drove them away, Khlit set a price on your head. Aye, and he bade me seek you, thinking that I might die thereby.”

“The fires,” quoth Gurd with a laugh, “guard well Changa castle and what is within. Truly then, this Khlit loves you not, Lhon Otai?”

The shaman's thick lips twisted in a snarl. Memory of the long feud between himself and the Cossack rankled. In his anger he spoke what he had long kept secret. Yet he spoke not unknowingly, for he was shrewd and Gurd might serve him.

“Aye,” he responded, “the Kha Khan is my foe. Once I saw the gold cross he carried on a chain about his neck.

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