Jad pulled the priest aside, away from Yamun's hearing. "You said he would get better," the prince whispered. There was a touch of danger in Jad's words, perhaps fueled by desperation.

Koja swallowed nervously. "He has lived through the night, Lord Jadaran. That was the first struggle."

"Then why hasn't he gotten better?" Jad demanded, pressing the priest back toward the wall.

"I—I don't know," Koja feebly protested. He suppressed a tremor that started to come over him, brought on by fear and exhaustion. For two days the priest had slept no more than an hour. Judging from Jad's appearance—hollow-eyed and haggard—the prince had rested no better.

"You don't know!" Jad snapped in frustration, slamming his fist into the carpeted wall beside Koja. "What do you know?"

"Lord Jadaran," Koja said firmly, his patience gone, "I am no expert in poisons. I have closed the khahan's wounds and lessened the poison's fire. I did what I could, thank the almighty Furo. There is nothing more I can do. His life rests on the scales of Li Pei."

"Li Pei?" Goyuk asked, just catching the end of the conversation.

"The Strict Judge, the master of the dead who weighs the karma of men."

"This no sound good," Goyuk commented, shaking his head.

"So you say there's nothing you can do, priest?" Jad asked, slowly realizing that events were out of their control.

"There is nothing I can do for the khahan," Koja said carefully, "but there is still something I can do."

"What's that?" old Goyuk asked.

"Speak with the dead. It is difficult and maybe a little dangerous," Koja explained, "but Furo has blessed me with this ability."

"Wonderful. You propose to wait for my father to die and then talk to him!" Jad growled. He spun away from the priest and strode to the khahan's sickbed.

"Not the khahan." Koja followed after Jad, trying to explain. "I meant—"

A sigh suddenly escaped from Yamun's lips, and his eyes fluttered. "A plan?" the khahan breathed out softly. Weakly looking toward the others, he tried to speak again, only to falter and fall back upon his pillow.

Koja wasted no time with more speech. Quickly he pulled back the covers and listened to the khahan's chest. His heart was still beating, and his breathing was slightly stronger. Still, his color was pale blue-gray, and his sweat was cold. The priest squeezed at the khahan's tough and weather-beaten hands, checking the firmness of the muscles.

The lama waved to a servant to bring a pot of simmering herbs. It was placed carefully at his side, along with a colorful strip of woven cloth. The lama dipped the cloth in the pot and gingerly lifted the steaming fabric out, holding it up to cool. Finally, Koja laid the herb-infused cloth across Yamun's chest, folding it back and forth several times. With shaking fingers, the priest pressed it into position and then carefully covered the khahan once again with the blankets.

The lama finally got up from his examination. "He heard us. It is a sign he is getting better." Jad's face broke into a shaky smile of relief. "But only a little better," cautioned Koja.

"But what is this plan, lama?" Goyuk asked, breaking the tension.

Thankful for the excuse to change the subject, Koja hurriedly launched into an explanation. "Khans, Furo has seen fit to answer my prayers and grant me the power to speak with the dead. Not with the illustrious khahan," he hastily added, "but to talk to one of his assassins."

"What good is this?" Jad asked, looking away from his father.

Koja shook his head. "I may learn something about the poison used on the khahan. You may learn who is to blame for the attack."

"I know who is to blame—didn't you yourself say the creature was an agent of the Shou? And didn't you say the governor of Manass had a Shou advisor at his side? What more is there to know?" Jad said, dismissing Koja's last suggestion with a wave.

"There was Afrasib, too," Goyuk pointed out. "How does he fit in?"

"He was a wizard," Jad snapped, as if that explained it all.

"The khahan, he would find out. Try what the lama say," Goyuk urged.

Jad took a deep breath. He was young and unused to making such important decisions. "Goyuk," he said slowly, "because you advise this, I'll try the priest's ideas." He pivoted to face Koja. "What do we do?"

"Have the bodies brought to the tent, and we will perform the rite to summon their spirits. Then you can ask your questions through me."

"You mean to bring the bodies here, to the royal yurt? I won't allow it," Jad said defiantly, his young eyes flashing. "Since my father is stricken, I'm in command. The dead bodies will pollute the yurt. That cannot be allowed."

"But I must have the bodies. I must touch them," protested Koja.

Jad mulled over the lama's words. "Very well, but it must be done in secret, and it cannot be done here." The prince got to his feet and paced back and forth as he gave his commands. "Goyuk, have one of the nightguards—not the dayguards—go to Sechen the Wrestler's yurt and order him to come with us. Issue a proclamation: all khans are to assemble their men this evening for a review by their prince. That will keep the curious occupied and out of our way."

"By your will, it shall be done," Goyuk declared as he left.

"Thank you, wise counsellor," Jad replied as the tent flap fell closed. Exhausted, the son turned back to his father. Spotting Koja, Jad stopped. "And you, priest, go and get yourself ready."

Koja bowed and then left. There was little he needed to prepare, but he obeyed all the same. Yamun would manage without his care for a little while. As he walked back to his yurt, Koja could feel the gloom that had settled on the camp. The warriors were tense, uncertain of the future.

Back in his tent, Koja quickly gathered the few things he would need. Hodj prepared him a hot meal, the priest's first in days. The food revived Koja, bringing him back from the edge of exhaustion. The meal finished, the priest opened his scrolls and once more reviewed the sutras he needed to know for the upcoming rite.

He was still reading when Sechen brought horses. Packing up a small pouch, Koja joined the others. They rode silently across yesterday's battlefield. Most of the dead men were gone, taken by relatives or friends to be properly buried. A few still lay where they had fallen, their bodies looted. Still, the battlefield was far from clean. Littering the field were the bodies of horses. Nearly all the dead animals had been left to rot. The victors had taken what saddles, bridles, and tack they could carry, but the carcasses were left undisturbed. Only a few horses had been butchered for their meat. Most were puffy and bloated after many hours in the sun. Vermin were feasting on the carcasses. Vultures squawked at the riders as they went by. Jackals yipped when the men ventured too close.

Jad worried that they were being watched as the group rode along. The prince had forgone his fine white stallion with the black and red saddle for a plain black mare and a saddle borrowed from one of the dayguards. He did not want to attract undue attention. Several of the dayguards had asked to ride along, since the prince was almost certain to be their new khahan, but he had firmly refused them.

Ahead of the prince, Koja, too, rode quietly, thinking of what was to come. He was worried. When he'd made the offer to summon up the spirits of the assassins, he hadn't considered the possible results. What if he were wrong and the assassins were paid by Prince Ogandi? The farther they rode, the less confident Koja became.

"Down there," said Sechen, interrupting the thoughts of both men. "We hid the bodies down there." He pointed to a small overhang that projected from the other side of the gully. "That way there would be no questions."

"Good," Jad said. "You have served my father well. He will see that you are rewarded."