The troopers opened the sacks and laid out the heads of Koja's escort for Yamun to see. Some of the dead faces stared at him, while others had their eyes closed. Yamun stared back at the heads, rage building inside him. "What happened?" the khahan demanded tersely.
Koja told of the meeting while Yamun strode up and down the line, looking carefully at each head. The priest could see the look of hatred twist Yamun's visage. The Tuigan turned to his scribe as the priest described the last moments of the battle.
"See that their widows and children are taken care of for the rest of their lives," the khahan ordered, speaking in a tight, controlled voice. The scribe took down the words and sent a runner to learn the dead men's names. "Cover them up," Yamun ordered, and then he wheeled back on Koja.
"Where are their bodies?" Yamun demanded of the lama.
"The governor ordered them hung from the gate." Koja spoke softly, out of respect for the dead.
"Then, this is his answer?" Yamun mused grimly. The question was rhetorical, and Koja made no effort to answer it. "We attack." He turned and strode back to his couriers. "Sound the horn! Send in Shahin's minghan!"
The standard-bearer ran to the front of the line. There he dipped Yamun's war banner, with its horsetails and gold, five times to the east. At the same time another messenger blew three sharp blasts on a ram's horn. On the east flank, one of the banners, a silver disk hung with blue silk streamers, dipped five times. A line of one thousand horsemen broke from the front and trotted down the slope into the valley.
Even with his limited battle experience, Koja knew a thousand men couldn't take the walls of Manass. The thick gate was soundly closed, so the riders would not be able to gallop in, and they carried no ladders to scale the walls. Their lances were useless against the hewed stone. In his mind, Koja could see the attack: the warriors would gallop forward, shooting their bows from horseback, aiming at the top of the wall. Few of their shots would find a target. Most would only shatter against the stone. The archers in the towers and the battlements would wait, allowing the riders to come closer, and finally draw back their bowstrings and let loose a flight of arrows. The sharp points would cut down the riders like barley under the scythe, just as the governor had promised. Koja rode over to where Yamun was hearing the latest reports from Quaraband.
"Lord Yamun, those men are certain to die!" the priest shouted, pointing to the attackers on the valley below. They were now riding at a gallop.
"I know," he answered without looking up. "This report says Chanar hasn't left Quaraband yet. How long ago did you ride?" he queried a pock-faced messenger.
"Two days, Great Lord," answered the messenger breathlessly.
"But your men!" Koja urged in alarm, pointing toward the valley. "They're all going to die!"
"Be ready to return faster than you came. Now go eat," the khahan warned. Yamun didn't react to Koja's words. The messenger bowed in his saddle and trotted his horse away. As he left, Yamun finally turned his attention to the lama.
"Priest, you may be wise but you have much to learn," Yamun said in irritation. "I ordered Shahin to go forward so we can count their arrows. You did very poorly at noting their strengths, so Shahin must go."
"Count their arrows? You mean he's supposed to learn the strength of Manass's garrison? How?"
"Watch," Yamun instructed. He walked his horse forward, urging Koja to come along. The pair rode to where the standard-bearer stood. From that spot they had a clear view of the valley floor. "Watch and learn how we fight."
Koja looked down on Manass. Shahin's riders had assembled just out of bowshot of the walls. The distant thumping of the minghan's war drum echoed up from the fields. The riders grouped themselves into wedge-shaped jaguns. Shahin, marked by his standard, sat toward the center of the line. The standard waved to the right and then dipped. There was a ragged shout, and the right wing of riders broke away, galloping madly toward the walls. Koja watched in fascinated horror. The Tuigan were riding to certain doom.
Before the charging men had covered even half the ground to the walls, victims of the Khazari archers started to fall. A man swayed and wobbled in his saddle; a horse's front legs buckled, somersaulting horse and rider under the hooves of another charging steed. The bass roar of the hooves was punctuated by the faint screams of beasts and men.
The khahan watched the battle intently, his face impassive to the death below. "This is suicide!" Koja cried angrily, his own frustration at the pointlessness of the deaths welling up in his chest.
"Of course," Yamun said, not even trying to defend his actions. "But now I learn the enemy's strength's and weaknesses. See, look how many have died in the charge."
"You sent them out so you could count the dead?" Koja gasped in disbelieving horror.
"Yes. From this I'll know the skill of Manass's archers. See how many times they fire? How they stand on the wall?" Yamun turned his horse and rode back to the main camp. Koja stayed forward, unable to tear himself away from the deadly farce below. He was stunned that Yamun Khahan, the great leader of the Tuigan, a man who had conquered so much of the steppe, would use his men so callously.
On the field below, the first wave of soldiers was returning from its charge. Dead men and horses marked the course of their attack. Wounded horses thrashed on the ground or hobbled back toward the line. Dismounted riders scrambled over the battlefield, such as is was, rounding up mounts and galloping back to their fellows. Even before the right wing had finished forming, the signal was given and the left wing charged.
The hideous cycle repeated itself. The riders galloped forward, falling as before. This time the priest watched them carry their attack to its conclusion. Suddenly, a little over half the distance covered, the horsemen pulled up, wheeling their horses about. As they spurred their mounts back toward their lines, each man fired an arrow over his back. There was a faint, singing hum as the volley flew on its way. A few of the men on the walls tumbled and fell, some flopping over the battlements, but far too few when compared to the losses of the riders. Still, Koja could only marvel at the foolish bravery and skill of the Tuigan.
Yamun returned as the last charge straggled back from Manass. A horn blared, sounding a recall of Shahin's men. Forming into ragged groups, the riders began to gather up the wounded and straggle back to the safety of the Tuigan lines. As they withdrew from the battlefield, the gates of Manass opened and a continuous stream of riders poured out. Amazingly the Khazari raced out from the safety of the walls, chasing small knots of exhausted Tuigan, thinking the riders were broken. Shahin's warriors kept their nerve, retreating just ahead of the fresh enemy. Here and there, Khazari knights overtook their prey and overwhelmed the Tuigan troopers, but the bulk of Yamun's men avoided death. Koja marveled at the discipline and control of the troopers. There were no signs of rout or panic.
"You said the lord of Manass promised to ride us down, didn't he?" Yamun suddenly asked Koja.
"Yes, Khahan," Koja answered, shading his eyes to make out what was happening below.
"Then this lord's a fool." Yamun stroked the neck of his mare. "I need a plan. If only General Chanar were here."
Koja was surprised at the mention of the khan. "How so, Lord?" he questioned.
"Chanar's a fox, historian. He's a clever one on the battlefield. Between us, I know we'd have a plan." The khahan studied the battlefield below, stroking at his mustache as he thought. The Khazari riders had ridden well beyond the range of their bowmen on the walls. They rode helter-skelter, apparently out of the control of their commanders.