Crusade - James Lowder [99]
Thom looked up from the ground, where he cradled the fallen wizard in his arms, assuring the soldiers' horses did not trample the old man. "Vangy's alive," he called.
Azoun drew his own sword and pushed it close to Koja. "If you think this will stop the army, you're a fool."
The emissary reached out with an empty hand. "Please, Your Highness.
You have the word of the khahan to insure your safety. Had I known the old one was a wizard, I could have warned you about this place."
The Cormyrian soldiers looked to Azoun, waiting for orders. The five blackgarbed Tuigan still guarding the westerners had drawn their weapons, too.
They sat atop their prancing horses, wide grins on their scarred faces. "What do you mean, this place?" the king asked sharply.
"We chose to camp here because it is like the Tuigan capital in the steppes, Quaraband. This place is magic-dead," Koja replied, gesturing with his empty hands. "The whole camp is located in an area where magic will not work. That is why the wizard is sick."
Glancing at the soldiers racing from the camp, Azoun realized that a fight would be out of the question. With Vangerdahast unable to cast spells of any kind, he and his men would be slaughtered. The king gritted his teeth and ordered his guards to lower their weapons.
Koja breathed an audible sigh of relief, then slid to the ground and helped Thom sling Vangerdahast onto a horse. "You are in no danger, Your Highness," he said, smiling sincerely. "The khahan is, if nothing else, a man of his word."
As they set out again toward the khahan's tent, this time surrounded by fifty guards, Azoun and Thom exchanged concerned glances. And though they couldn't know it, the same thought was running through each of their minds.
Both the bard and the king prayed silently that Lord Rayburton, who'd written that the Tuigan were uncompromising savages, had taken at least some literary license in his depiction of the horsewarriors.
12
Propaganda "More tea, Your Highness?"
Azoun nodded politely, and Koja refilled the king's cup with warm, salty tea.
"I much prefer this brewed in the Shou style," the historian said casually.
"They put dollops of butter in their brew."
"Actually," Azoun replied, "this is quite good." He brought the cup to his lips and took a small sip. Not as appetizing as tea with milk and sugar, he added silently, but certainly not bad.
The king and the Tuigan envoy sat on piles of brightly colored cushions in a large yurt-at least that was what Koja called the round Tuigan huts. Made mostly of felt, the tent was musty after the recent rains. The place was dark, too, as the only illumination came from a single lantern hanging from the center pole. Little decoration lightened the oppressive mood of the yurt, save for a few small felt idols that hung over the door.
"Are you sure Vangerdahast will be all right?" Azoun asked Koja. The king placed his cup on the dirty floor in front of him and leaned forward. It seemed that he was emphasizing his question with body language, but he was actually stretching out his sore back. The king wasn't used to sitting cross-legged on the ground for hours at a time, and his muscles were complaining.
"Yes, Your Highness," Koja replied calmly, though he'd answered this question for the king once before. "The sickness will pass, and when the wizard leaves the area, he'll be able to cast spells again."
Azoun sighed and leaned back with a short, almost silent groan. If Koja had heard him, the Khazari gave no indication of it. And, as it had many times in the last two hours, the yurt fell silent.
However, the king did not relax. The noise from the bustling camp outside the quiet, dark tent kept him on guard. The Tuigan soldiers' shouts and the clanging of weapons being forged and repaired reminded the Cormyrian king that he was still amongst the enemy.
Not that Azoun had been threatened since entering the Tuigan camp. On the contrary, Koja and the various Tuigan khans Azoun had met since arriving had treated him with respect, even deference. And while