"He may be a monk," Ho Sa said. "They are hard men, for all they spend their time begging and in prayer. Do not underestimate him."

Khasar raised his eyes, amused. "I spent my childhood learning weapons from dawn till dusk. I've yet to see one of your people who could stand against me."

Ho Sa frowned, shaking his head. "If he is a monk, he will be trying not to kill his attackers. I have seen them show their skills to my king."

Khasar snorted softly. "You are a strange people. Soldiers who cannot fight and holy men who can. Tell Lian to get his hammer ready to crack a head when I shoot."

Khasar inched forward once more, coming slowly up to a kneeling position. To his surprise, he saw the man with the bloody nose was lying on the ground, writhing in agony. The other two had fallen into grim silence. The young monk stood straight despite the bruises he had taken, and Khasar heard him speak calmly to his tormentors. One of them sneered, tossing aside his stick and pulling a wicked-looking dagger from his belt.

Khasar bent his bow, and as it creaked, the monk looked through the fire at him, suddenly light on his feet as if ready to leap away. The others hadn't noticed and one of them rushed the monk, the dagger held to punch into his chest.

Khasar let out a breath and loosed an arrow that took the bandit in the armpit, hammering him off his feet. The other swung round as Lian and Ho Sa shouted, leaping up. As they moved, the monk stepped very close to the remaining man and landed a blow to his head that knocked him into the fire. Ho Sa and Lian came roaring in then, but the monk ignored them, dragging his attacker out of the flames and patting him down where his hair had begun to smoke. The man was limp, but the weight did not seem to trouble the monk at all.

When that was done, he stood to face the newcomers, nodding to them. The one with the bloody nose now moaned in fear as well as pain. Khasar nocked another arrow as he walked, Temuge following at his heels.

The monk saw what Khasar intended and darted forward, so that Khasar's view of the writhing figure was blocked. The bald skull made him look little older than a boy.

"Step aside," Khasar told him.

The words were received blankly, but the monk did not move and only folded his arms to stare down the arrow.

"Tell him to step away, Ho Sa," Khasar said, gritting his teeth against the strain of holding the drawn bow. "Tell him we need his mule, but otherwise he can go on his way once I've killed this one."

Ho Sa spoke and Khasar saw the monk's face light up as he heard words he recognized. A blistering exchange followed, and when it showed no sign of ceasing, Khasar swore in the Chin language and eased off the strain.

"He says he did not need us and the man's life is not ours to take," Ho Sa said at last. "He also said he will not give up the mule, as it is not his, but only loaned to him."

"Does he not see the bow I am holding?" Khasar demanded, jerking it in the monk's direction.

"He would not care if you had a dozen pointed at him. He is a holy man and without fear."

"A holy boy, with a mule for Temuge," Khasar replied. "Unless you want to ride double with my brother?"

"I do not mind," Ho Sa said immediately. He spoke to the monk, bowing three times in the course of the conversation. The boy nodded sharply at the end, glancing at Khasar.

"He says you may take the ponies," Ho Sa said. "He will remain here to tend the wounded men."

Khasar shook his head, unable to understand. "Did he thank me for rescuing him?"

Ho Sa looked blank. "He did not need rescuing."

Khasar frowned at the monk, who stared calmly back.

"Genghis would love this one," Khasar said suddenly. "Ask him if he wants to come with us."

Ho Sa spoke again and the boy shook his head, his eyes never leaving Khasar.

"He says the work of the Buddha may take him onto strange roads, but his place is amongst the poor."

Khasar snorted. "The poor are everywhere. Ask him how he knows this Buddha didn't want us to find him here."

Ho Sa nodded, and as he talked, the monk looked increasingly interested.

"He asks if the Buddha is known among your people," Ho Sa said.

Khasar grinned. "Tell him we believe in a sky father above and an earth mother below. The rest is struggle and pain before death." He chuckled as Ho Sa blinked at hearing the philosophy.

"Is that all you believe?" Ho Sa asked.

Khasar glanced at his brother. "Some of the foolish ones believe in spirits as well, but most of us believe in a good horse and a strong right arm. We do not know this Buddha."

When Ho Sa relayed the speech, the young monk bowed and strode to where his mule was tethered. Khasar and Temuge watched as he leaped into the saddle, causing the animal to snort and kick.

"That is an ugly beast," Khasar said. "Is the boy coming with us?"

Ho Sa still looked surprised as he nodded. "He is. He says that no man can guess his path, but perhaps you are right that you were guided to him."

"All right," Khasar said. "But tell him that I will not let my enemies live, that he must not interfere with me again. Tell him if he does, I will cut his little bald head right off."

When the monk heard the words, he laughed aloud, slapping his thigh as he sat astride the mule.

Khasar frowned at him. "I am Khasar of the Wolves, monk," he said, pointing to himself. "What is your name?"

"Yao Shu!" he replied, thumping a fist twice into his own chest like a salute. The action seemed to amuse the monk and he chuckled until he had to wipe his eyes. Khasar stared at him. "Mount up, Ho Sa," he said at last. "The brown mare is mine. At least the walking is over."

It did not take long for them to mount. Ho Sa and Temuge rode together once the saddle had been unstrapped and thrown down. The surviving bandits had grown quiet amidst the talk, aware that their lives hung in the balance. They watched the strangers go, only sitting up to curse when they were sure they were alone.

The pass that separated the Xi Xia kingdom from the southern edge of the desert was empty as the party of five men reached it. In the Khenti mountains a thousand miles north, the winter would be deepening, gripping the land for many months to come. Even at the pass, a freezing gale roared through as if in pleasure at its release. There was no fort to make the pass a place of stillness any longer. Instead, the wind always blew and the air was full of sand and grit.

Khasar and Temuge dismounted as they reached the pass, remembering the first bloody efforts to take the fort that had stood there. Genghis had been efficient in having it dismantled. A few large blocks lay where they had fallen in the sand, but every other stone had been dragged away. Only a few square holes in the cliffs showed where timbers and braces had been anchored, but otherwise it was as if the fort had never existed. There was no barrier to the tribes coming south any longer, and that fact alone gave Khasar a feeling of pride.

He strolled with Temuge along the pass, looking up at the high cliffs on either side. The monk and the mason watched them without understanding, neither having known the place when it boasted a fort of black stone and the Xi Xia kingdom ruled in splendid isolation.

Ho Sa looked south, turning his pony to gaze over the bare fields of his home. Dark spots in the distance showed where the rotten crops had been burned and the ashes returned to the land. There would be starvation in the villages, he was certain, perhaps even in Yinchuan. He shook his head at the thought.

He had been away for almost four months and it would be good to see his sons and his wife once again. He wondered how the army had fared after the crushing defeats at the hands of the great khan. The tribes had shattered an ancient peace and he winced as he recalled the destruction. He had lost friends and colleagues in those months, and the bitterness was never far from the surface. The final humiliation had been to see a royal daughter handed over to the barbarians. Ho Sa shuddered at the thought of such a woman being forced to live in their stinking tents among sheep and goats.