handfasting

"Noyon," Temur pushed his way through the crowd to reach the Khovsgol men. "Stay close by me. When the time comes, I will lead you to a place of honor at the Sacred Circle." Late sunlight dusted the peaks around them, and Temur seemed relieved that they had finally appeared.
Ulan clasped his hands behind his back, rocked back on his heels and scanned the gathering villagers. "So, Temur," he said. "What does your udgan have in store for us?"
"No telling," said Temur. "She likes surprises. She'll have some fun with this."
"Weddings are fun for everyone but the bride and groom," observed the Archer dryly. "At least until the bridal ger."
Lasuluun extended a fist to measure the sun's height above the peaks. "It's getting late. You don't suppose your brother has changed his…"
As he spoke, a ringing chime sounded from beyond the brow of the small rise south of the square. The villagers cheered, then settled into an eager silence.
Soft music rode the wind. Like the song Shan Yu had heard rising from the canyon the night before, it was not entirely familiar. There was the hollow, rhythmic thumping of the goatskin drums, zo and damar, the whine of morin khuur, and the plucked strings of the tovshuur. But joining them were instruments he had never heard before. Stroked wires and tiny bells sang like falling icicles. As the music bounced lightly in a minor key, he felt the hair on his arms rise. Above the hill's crest, the points of flagpoles bobbed into view and bright silk banners of orange, red and gold billowed behind. Bearers dressed in matching silks strode over the crest and into the midst of the village folk who parted to make way. Behind the banners followed six young women, each carrying a basket of autumn leaves. With graceful, sweeping movements they spread leaves behind them until the path was strewn with a patchwork of russet, orange and gold.
A dozen musicians appeared at the top of the rise and walked down the leaf-littered path. Shan Yu's brows lifted as they came closer. Four of them were Urga natives he thought he recognized, but the others clearly were not of the settlement. Their skin was pale, though sunburned deep pink across their noses, cheekbones and necks. Their hair ranged from bright chestnut to nearly black. Their faces were narrow and angular with sharp, prominent noses and thin lips. Shan Yu glanced down at Lasuluun and saw that he, too, was watching them with curiosity.
Vaguely, Shan Yu began to recall such faces from long ago. The Chien K'ang markets. Yes, that was it. Kong Xiang had pointed out to him the strange, pale folk from western tribes far beyond the Tian Shan. They had braved the dangers of the Silk Road in caravans laden with Roman and Byzantine wares to barter for silk and other goods in China. Tianlin's face flickered through his mind. There was a vague similarity between those faces and hers. So these are her Westerners, he thought.
He gave Temur a quizzical glance and gestured at the strangers with a slight tilt of his chin. The boy whispered, "They came with Tianlin from the port city especially for this celebration, Khagan. They took part in the Samhain ritual last night, and spent the day here in Urga preparing for this. One of her surprises."
As the musicians spilled over the hill, a group of dancers followed, each waving a short staff tipped with a long, silk ribbon. Some of them, too, were pale, western women. They fanned out along the crest of the hill, tracing crimson spirals through the air, meeting and interweaving them in time with the music as the onlookers stamped and whooped encouragement. The musicians reached the base of the giant tree, turned, lifted their song to a crescendo and abruptly ended.
The crowd quieted as the band struck up a different tune, soft and charged with anticipation. The ribbon dancers swept their staves to the sky and parted as a shaggy white mare bobbed into view at the crest. Astride sat Kaaje, her smile not quite concealed behind the shimmering veil draped over her flushed, delicate face. Mounted on a dapple grey from which he held the mare's lead, Duman rose resplendent in black furs and russet silk. He tugged the horse to a halt, allowing the crowd a moment to admire his daughter. He straightened as the people showered Kaaje with cheers and whistles.
The shining, black hair coiled around her veiled face was laced with gold ribbons and leaves. A great spray of pheasant feathers rose from behind her shoulders and bowed around her head with the movements of her horse. Her gown of russet silk, embroidered in gold by her own hand, caught the colors of the autumn leaves shimmering in the breeze along the path. Eager to move forward, the mare tossed her head, sending her feather- and bead-braided mane thumping against her neck. Duman reached down, tapped the mare's whiskered jaw with his knuckles, and slowly pranced the two horses into the square. A small crowd of celebrants poured after them, lifting a waving arch of pine and yellow birch over the bride's head.
Arms folded across his chest, Shan Yu stood to the side of the path and surveyed the scene. He found himself unconsciously searching the procession for its architect, Tianlin, and felt a small, warm thrill as he found her. She was bringing up the rear, followed by two attendants bearing smoking punks of juniper that filled the clearing with sweet, intoxicating smoke. Women's magic, he thought, a slight smile playing across his lips. It always seemed far more gentle to him than the wild, fearsome spirit-summonings he had known with the shaman-warriors who blessed and sought guidance for him when he went into battle. It had been long since he had known this quieter way.
The priestess wore none of the enormous headdresses or bead- and talisman-festooned robes of a tribal shaman. Her simple ritual dress of dark emerald silk softly changed hues as she moved. Embroidered in gold at the hem were twelve runes that repeated as they ran up the center of the full skirts to a fitted bodice that traced her small waist and the long curve of her hips. Her only adornments, the eyepieces of a dozen peacock feathers woven into her braid, spread softly along the sides of her neck and face.
Eager villagers craned and pressed against the backs of Shan Yu, Lasuluun and Ulan, who passively used the mass of their own bodies to keep the people from spilling into the procession’s path. As the bride's mare passed close by him, Shan Yu felt a more forceful push from behind. He turned his head to give a quick warning glance, instantly heeded, to the folk behind him, and when he turned back to face the procession he gave a small start to find Tianlin, walking with quiet solemnity in Kaaje's wake, mere inches from his chest. The priestess faced straight ahead, her head high. But as she passed him, she uttered an admonishment so soft and muffled by the chiming music that only Shan Yu and Ulan could hear it. "The entertainment wasn't supposed to start until after the wedding."
And then she was past them, moving slowly and regally after the bride.
Ulan grinned silently. Shan Yu dipped his head and murmured from the corner of his mouth, "If the view at the hotspring was any indication of what she has planned, this feast should be quite memorable."
Unaware of the exchange, Temur tapped Ulan's arm and beckoned for the visitors to follow the wedding procession. The people parted for them, and as Shan Yu fell in behind Temur, he glanced over the sea of dark-haired heads and found the shining, freshly shaved crowns of Batu and Gaitan a few dozen feet away. The brothers happened to look over at the same time, and both sent silly grins and approving gestures to their commander. They intended to make the most of this party.
Through the pines the people followed the bridal procession as it turned away from the main road and across a stone path bordered on each side by small rivulets of running water. The celebrants seemed to be heading straight into the cliff wall, but as the path wound, a rift appeared, widening as they approached. Hidden by the tall pines, the opening was visible only if approached from the north.
They entered a small, oval canyon branching from the main one. Every surface, from the vertical walls to the floor, was rough granite, free of loose stone or dust. The uneven walls were alive with narrow, weaving ribbons of rainwater that had found runoff crevices far above. Flat streams surged down the walls, running together and parting until at ground level they flowed into a shallow, carved aqueduct bordering the perimeter of the floor. There the waters grew and flowed into a canal encircling a raised stone circle wide enough for twenty men to stand shoulder to shoulder. From the circular canal, the rainwater flowed out to become the two rivulets bordering the stone path that had brought them here.
The orange oval of sky above was tiled with gold. Shafts of reflected light glanced against the wet walls, lighting the space with an unearthly, indirect glow. Mist and droplets, lit from within, filled the air with whirling glitter. Shan Yu could feel the power of the place.
He must not have been alone in his wonder, for as the villagers and Duman's people entered the canyon, they fell silent. The only sound now was music, amplified and echoing into the main canyon. It was no mystery how the voice of Sukhe's ritual had been able to reach all the way to his ger, he thought. Now that he could feel the pull of the Sacred Circle, he was even more struck by that voice's harmony with the spirits that dwelt here in this temple, carved by wind, water and men's hands from the very bones of Gazar Eej.
Temur led Shan Yu to the northern side of the circle to join the elders of Sukhe's and Duman's clans at the Circle's place of greatest honor. On the raised circle itself, flanked by Sukhe and Baaja, stood Qaidu. All three were attired from head to toe in the richest black sable and russet silks. To the west stood Cheren. The old shaman was dressed in furs and well-worn leather branded with myriad symbols and strung with every manner of talisman. He leaned forward on a gnarled staff and held a lit torch aloft in one weathered hand.
Duman led Kaaje's mare to the southernmost curve of the circle, swung down from his horse, then turned to help her dismount. For a scant moment, he reached for her face and tenderly touched it through the veil. The music softened, faded and was gone.
A slow, deep thrum rose from all around the circle, and at first Shan Yu did not see the players tucked into dim hollows behind the crowd. Low and strong, the vibration of at least two dozen skin drums shuddered through him with each beat of his own heart. The crowd grew silent, motionless, hypnotized by the smoke and the slow, even thunder of the drums.
She seemed to come from nowhere, suddenly emerging from shadow into the golden light, rising like a dragon into the carved circle. In each hand Tianlin bore a smoking bundle of sage, and as she turned in the center of the circle, she lifted the burning offering to each of the four directions, incanting in a tongue Shan Yu did not recognize. Cheren looked on, his eyes bright and approving, as she came to stand at the north side of a great firepit carved into the center of the stone circle. Into it she cast the smoldering twigs. Cheren stepped close and lowered his torch to the carefully arranged branches within. As the tinder slowly crackled to life, the two shamans locked eyes. Cheren nodded slightly and stepped back to watch as Tianlin turned to invoke the four directions and their elements.
"Fire to cleanse this Sacred Space," she chanted, her low voice strong enough to be heard even over the drums, sounding almost like one of them. "Ignited by the wood spirits of Urga and fed by the breath of Tengri Etseg."
She stepped back from the pit, reached down and raised a dark blue bowl from the edge of the dais. "Far across the belly of Gazar Eej we rode, and at its round rim found the flowing, salt fluid of her womb," she said. Taking the seawater in her cupped hand, she dripped it along the perimeter of the circle with each beat of the drums, then splashed it into the fire where it hissed against the glowing wood and steamed into the sparkling air. "Let it bless this site of Qaidu and Kaaje's joining and portend fertility."
She bent down and traded the blue bowl for one carved of stone, this one filled with fine, black soil. "Let mingled earth from Urga and from the land of Duman's people bind us together," she said, sifting the dirt from her fingertips to spread it in a thin line at the edge of the circle. She returned to the north side of the fire, set down the bowl and dropped to one knee before it, spreading her palms across the stones. She took a great breath, and her face and shoulders rose slowly as if lifted by the pulsing noise of the drums. On either side of her, six men stepped forward with the cadence. The pounding of the drums grew louder, deeper, a new rhythm now skipping and intertwining through the first.
"Call forth the spirits from stone, fire and river." As she intoned the words, a low, vibrating growl of xoomej throat-singing, rolled from the men. "As we please them, so will they bless Qaidu and Kaaje now and until they return to the earth and water from which they are made." The haunting sound rose and echoed, pulsing against the cliff walls. The singers' eyes were shut, their faces red, the muscles and blood vessels standing stark and stiff in their necks from the effort as they thrummed the ancient music of their ancestors. Its deepest tones echoed the pulse of the earth; its whistling overtones called spirits from the sky.
The xoomej reverberated through the canyon, its hypnotic buzz thick, overpowering. Shan Yu felt a chill scatter across his back and neck. It was as she had commanded. The spirits were in this space now, come at her call. Their swirling and crowding close was almost physical, a sensation he had known before only in the presence of the great shaman Bayanbulag. He gazed long at Tianlin's upraised face as a deep wash of power and recognition rose through his loins and chest. Women's magic. His own patronizing thought from a short time ago echoed in his head, and he felt chastened by the might of the spirits that coursed through him now.
With a final, collective grunt from the singers, the song and drums stopped and echoed to a stillness so complete that one could almost hear the breathing of the celebrants around the circle. Tianlin did not move. She remained so still, her face lifted to the orange sky, that Shan Yu could see the soft pulse in her throat. Suddenly she lowered her gaze and looked across the fire at Duman.
"Whom do you bring to the Circle, Duman?" she said, her voice an echo of the drums.
"My beloved daughter, Kaaje," he said. "To become wife to a worthy man. To become the mother of his sons."
"Where is this man?"
"Duman Noyon." Qaidu stepped forward and spoke the ritual words. "From under your wings she flies to me. Qaidu."
Tianlin took Kaaje's outstretched hand, led her around the fire and gave her to Qaidu. Duman followed and took his place beside Sukhe and Baaja on the north side of the flames. The Priestess turned to face the young lovers, and as the dusk deepened, the fire's orange light began to dance across her features, glittering on her hair. She took their joined hands and held them level with her own heart.
"In this Sacred Circle, lit by holy flame, I call upon Qaidu and Kaaje," she said. "We your family and friends gather in peace and trust to witness your pledge to one another and to the Goddess who breathes life into you.
"Gazar Eej," she called, "Danaan. Erde. Mother. Bestow your richest blessings upon these two. Let their hearts ever be filled with the love they know today. Bring them healthy, strong sons and daughters. Let their hearth ever overflow with the bounty of your gifts."
The Priestess reached behind her to receive a bowl of salt from a silent attendant who quickly faded into the shadows.
"Blessed be Qaidu and Kaaje by the Power of the North and the steadfast element of Earth," she said, dipping their right hands into the salt. "May this blessing see them gain the wisdom and endurance of the earth. May they return to it in old age and peace, surrounded by children and grandchildren who honor them and all their ancestors."
Two attendants swirled billowing banners of pale blue silk around Qaidu and Kaaje. When the women had slipped the fabric away, the bride and groom faced east.
Tianlin accepted a smoking juniper punk from one of her attendants. This she gently smudged close to the lovers, intoning, "Blessed be Qaidu and Kaaje by the East and the most ancient element of Air. May this blessing be a sign of a new life rich with inspiration and rebirth." With a sweep of her arm, she sent the punk sailing into the bonfire. Heady juniper smoke rolled outwards from the sacred flame.
Again came the two women bearing banners of silk, this time crimson, and when they had swirled the cloth around the lovers and slipped away into the shadows, the two faced south.
Tianlin lifted up two long, ivory-colored tapers. Shan Yu softly drew his breath. He had not seen beeswax tapers outside of China, and knew their rarity and great value. The Priestess placed them, one into Qaidu's hand and one into Kaaje's, then passed her hand over the sacred flame. When she withdrew it, she held a lit wick in her hand, and quickly touched it to the bride's and groom's tapers.
"Blessed be Qaidu and Kaaje by the South and the mystical element of Fire," she said. "May this blessing see them gain power with age, to see in light and welcome change." She reached forward and pressed their hands together so that as the wax dripped down, the two candles became one. "As each flame burns on its own cord, yet see how together the two burn brighter, as one flame."
As the hot wax dripped towards the lovers' hands Qaidu made a subtle move to cover his bride's fingers, so that the hot, molten stuff would harden over his own hand, and not hers. Shan Yu smiled inwardly at the tender look Tianlin gave the bridegroom for his unconscious gesture. She directed the two to kneel and make fast the joined candles to the stone, leaving them to burn in the glow of the sacred fire.
Once more the silk bearers rose from the shadows, swept brilliant grass green banners around Qaidu and Kaaje until they faced the West. Tianlin accepted the bowl that seemed to slide from the air outside the firelight, dipped her fingers into it and sprinkled rainwater over the heads and hands of the bride and groom.
"Blessed be Qaidu and Kaaje by the West and the holy element of Water," she said. "May this blessing grant them fertility, love, compassion and the ears to hear the voices of the spirits and gods around and inside them so long as they live."
When those words had been spoken, banners of black silk swirled about them until they once again faced the North. From the shadows, the supple hands of Tianlin's attendants appeared and gave the Priestess a quartz vial and two carved, faceted stones hung from fine, golden chains. The ornaments flashed in the firelight, and Shan Yu heard Shirchin beside him give a quiet sigh of amazement. Even from this distance, the swordsmith could appreciate the intricate stone and metalwork.
Tianlin pressed the open vial against her fingertip and anointed the foreheads of Qaidu and Kaaje. As the warm firewind passed his cheek, Shan Yu caught the scent of something familiar, reminiscent of his past. He shut his eyes to allow the dim memory to rise more clearly. Sandalwood. Tianlin's voice floated around him as if in a dream from his youth.
"Here are stones carved in the likeness of the totems each of you has chosen for this day," she said. "In accepting Qaidu's totem, Kaaje, you promise to love and serve Qaidu, to be his comfort and his mate, the mother of his children and the matriarch of your clan for as long as you share his hearth in love. Do you promise this?"
Kaaje's voice was so soft it barely sounded over the crackle of the flames. "Tiim. Yes."
"In accepting Kaaje's totem, Qaidu, you promise to love and protect her, to be her strength and her mate, the father of her children and the patriarch of your clan for as long as you share your hearth in love. Do you promise this?"
" Tiim! Yes!" Qaidu's assent was so sure and clear that a soft chuckle rippled through the crowd. Shan Yu opened his eyes to watch Tianlin drape the totems around the necks of Qaidu and Kaaje, and carefully tuck them into their collars, where none but each other would find those secrets.
Tianlin turned the couple to face the gathering, raised her hands on either side of them and spoke to the people across the flames. "By the power and vastness of Tengri Etseg, by the life force of Gazar Eej, from this day forth Qaidu and Kaaje are joined as husband and wife. Millsiu feraib!" She made a tossing gesture over them, scattering a spray of minute grains into the sacred flame. As they contacted the heat, they popped and sparked, momentarily turning the flames bright green. At a final gesture from Tianlin, the attendants freed the spirits from the canyon with a great shivering of tiny bells that started low and rose into a silvery curtain of sound.
The priestess turned to the crowd and raised her hands behind Qaidu and Kaaje. "If you approve this marriage, then say it!"
A wild tumult of voices and drums answered her. Autumn leaves sailed through the air, tossed by boisterous children suddenly set free by their mothers, and the band quickly struck up a dancing celebration. Flanked by the musicians, Qaidu's and Kaaje's horses were led through the cheering throng. The new husband and wife mounted to lead their joined People back to the village. More horses were brought for the Elders, and as they wheeled their mounts down the path, Shan Yu slipped to the side of the dais and watched from the shadows. His men, caught up in the festive mood, were greeted by some of the familiar villagers and led away without noticing that he was not with them.
Juniper smoke still hung in the air. He was not certain whether it was the smoke or the quickly dissipated spirits that were making him feel a bit giddy, but he did not feel ready to leave the place. For a moment, he thought he was alone in the sacred canyon. And then, through the smoke, Tianlin appeared at the bonfire with her attendants. She quickly directed them to collect all the artifacts in the circle, and then pushed them on their way. "Hurry," he heard her urging her helpers. "You'll miss the surprise!"
They obediently bustled off, leaving Tianlin by the fire. Shan Yu watched, unseen, as the priestess gave a great sigh and dropped down wearily to sit on the stone floor, her green skirts forming a rustling pool around her.
"More surprises?"
She spun her head around, startled, then smiled to see him mounting the steps from the dark edges of the hollow. "You'll miss it, too, if you hang back here with the tired old udgan."
As soon as she had spoken, a deafening explosion ripped through the canyon. Shan Yu started and whirled towards the sound, instinctively groping for the non-existent knife at his hip. The stone walls outside the Sacred Circle were suddenly lit with brilliant, flickering reflections of red and green. Screams and howls from the crowd echoed back to him, but they were noises of great delight and wonder. His eyes grew wide. A soft tapping on the side of his calf brought his gaze down on Tianlin, who was patting his leather boot reassuringly. "Just like home," she said.
"Home!" he exclaimed, his shocked expression slowly giving way to a look of bewilderment. "You forget that I haven't been 'home' for sixteen years. I've heard of these things, but never seen them. Are you trying to frighten your villagers to death?"
He proferred his hand and gently pulled her up. She was smiling at him almost playfully.
"Do they sound frightened to you?" she said, as the crackles and booms of the fireworks continued to evoke loud roars of approval from the crowd. "My attendants were directed to carefully spread the word. It would seem that everyone but the Khagan, and perhaps his men, knew to expect a surprise of this nature. I can't understand such an oversight," she said, squinting and tapping a finger on her lower lip. "Unless perhaps my young women were too shy to approach certain noyon who have already seen more of them than any man not married to them has right to see."
Shan Yu grinned at her and easily slipped into Mandarin words of courtly formality. "Perhaps the High Priestess will forgive the Khovsgol warriors when she recalls that they have been riding together for more than three weeks with little but each other's backsides to look at. After such an ordeal, to resist taking in such beauty as what met us today at the spring would be an impossible task for a mortal man."
She flushed and pressed her lips together, though her eyes sparkled. "Come," she said suddenly, touching his arm lightly to lead him away from the sacred place. "At least see the last bit of the fireworks. Even with all the riches we brought to trade in Chien K'ang, I didn't have enough to buy an endless supply!"
He followed her down the stone path, breathed the mist splashed into the air by the rain-filled gutters on either side. As she moved before him, Shan Yu found himself unable to decide which view of her he enjoyed more, windclad and distant at the hotspring or caressed by silk and feathers within an arm's reach of him now.
They came to a halt together where the path opened to the great canyon. Above the trees' silhouettes, great spirals and sunbursts of green, blue, gold and red splashed and glittered against the darkening sky. "Ah!" Tianlin sighed as the crowd cheered. "It was worth the trouble to bring them back!"
"Very nice," Shan Yu agreed, crossing his arms over his breast and leaning back to watch. "Though it seems a waste to use all that fire for mere entertainment. Those could probably be put to good use in battle somehow. Perhaps as flares for nighttime fighting."
Tianlin looked up at him, her expression unreadable. "Just tonight, Shan Yu Khagan," she said softly, almost pleadingly. "Tonight the fire is for beauty and celebration. Tomorrow I will show you how the powder can be used for healing. What else you learn from it is yours to know. But for tonight…"
He looked down at her and smiled. "The pleasure of the Udgan is my own."
"Then it would please me to…whup!" She quickly reached behind her ear as one of the peacock feathers fastened there slipped from her hair and fluttered to the ground. Together they bent to catch the iridescent charm before it fell. Together, their hands closed on it. He brought her palm close to his cheek, closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
"I wasn't imagining it," he said, releasing the feather to her. "Sandalwood. You seem to have a knack for finding the rare and expensive. My father once brought some of that precious stuff from one of his travels far, far to the south. He would anoint himself with it whenever he meditated. To prepare himself for…" He stopped, once again stunned to hear the memories of his youth tumbling out, unbidden, in her presence.
Suddenly she was holding the quartz vial in her hands. "Does it please you?"
He laughed uncomfortably and glanced up as a great, yellow chrysanthemum blossomed in the sky with a crack. He did not speak again until the firework's light had gone out. "Yes," he said quietly, still gazing at where the flame in the sky had faded to dusky smoke. "It reminds me of him."
She opened the vial, touched her finger to the oil and tentatively raised it to the hollow at the base of his throat, silently asking his permission. He granted it with the faintest of smiles and felt a small shiver run through him as her fingertip touched and anointed him.
She traced a tiny spiral there. "O Danaan, cuidich imbas forosna madadh-alluidh, Danaan," she said softly, almost chanting. She paused and smiled. "Madadh-alluidh. Glaisium cnis madadh-alluidh."
He watched her silently. "I've never heard that tongue but from you," he said at last. "What do the words mean?"
She corked the vial and tucked it away. "It's Goedelic. The language of my grandmother," she said. "Her tribe was from an island far, far to the west. It took her and her companions many years to reach this place. I asked Danaan, Gazar Eej, to help you face the terrible challenges ahead," she said. "To help the Blue Wolf know and trust his own wisdom."
"Blue Wolf?" he asked, bemused. "Is that some spirit of your grandmother's clan?"
"No," she said, looking up with an expression of slight puzzlement. "It's you."
"Me?"
"The name came to me as I spoke the charm," she said. "It happens sometimes. I…don’t know what it means. Sandalwood is holy. Perhaps its essence called the strange name from some spirit passing in the air."
Their eyes met and held for a moment. "I believe it might do that in your hands," he said.
She cast her gaze downward with a smile. "We should hurry," she said, turning to the path and the village. "Cheren will be ready to bless Qaidu and Kaaje at the bridal ger. They would be honored by your presence."
She moved swiftly beside him, but he did not have to lengthen his stride to keep up. As they entered the village square, they found the rise above the ger settlement lined with silhouettes of those watching the final ceremony of the wedding in the hollow below. Cheren's voice rose in a strident song, blessing the newlyweds' imminent consummation.
Tianlin led Shan Yu around to a clear view at the top of the hill. Cheren was shaking a great staff, clacking and jingling with shells and bones, over Qaidu and Kaaje. Two acolytes held torches aloft on either side of them. Still chanting and mantling with his arms, the old shaman backed the lovers through the door, grinning broadly as the two disappeared into the darkness.
Cheren turned to the crowd, lifted his staff and began a low, rhythmic chanting, waving his arms in invitation for the people to join his wordless blessing. Slow and quiet at first, rhythmic and even, the voices came together. There was no sign of movement from the ger. The crowd's chant grew louder still, slow and surging. Faster, louder the noise grew, and now it was broken by an occasional, high-pitched sigh from the women. Some of the men were laughing, grinning, rolling their eyes at each other at the humor of the tuneless song.
And then, from the darkness of the doorway Qaidu appeared, armed with a long spear and naked but for a wolfskin tied carelessly around his hips. Lean cords of muscle rippled across his chest as he brandished the weapon, grinned broadly at the crowd, and with a mighty thrust, sank the spear deep into the dirt in front of his threshold. The chant instantly broke into raucous pandemonium, and to the noise of hundreds of screaming, cheering voices, Qaidu vanished back into the darkened ger where his bride awaited him.
Cheren wrenched the spear from the earth, gave a great, warbling yell and bounced into the crowd, raising the spear aloft like a standard for the people to follow. Music started up from the hollow, and the buzzing crowd parted to allow Cheren and the musicians to lead them to the open plains where their horses waited. Shan Yu and Tianlin watched from the side and backed into the shadow of a small tree as the crowd swarmed by, surrounding the players and practically sweeping them along the road.
Shan Yu grinned down at Tianlin. "Qaidu and Kaaje must be glad to see us all leave!"
"They'll join us soon enough," she said. "But before they do, I have an important job."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm done working for the day. So should you be."
"No. And I need your help." She was gazing down at the bridal ger. "My work now is to make sure that everyone is having fun by the time Qaidu and Kaaje are ready to join them. That means that the Khagan and his warriors must begin enjoying themselves immediately."
"I see," he grinned. "Then your work will be to ride beside me now to the feast."
It seemed to him that she caught her breath in surprise. "I stay here and wait for them," she said. "But there will be much to keep you entertained in the meantime. You won't even notice my absence."
"I very much doubt that, Priestess," he said. He glanced casually down at the bridal ger. The torches on either side of the door flickered in the dusk. "I suppose I shouldn't hope that Qaidu and Kaaje rush things. But now it would please me if they were not too long in joining us."
She gestured for him to follow her down the path. "We can't have the bride and groom arrive at the feast alone and unheralded," she said. "Some of the musicians and I will bring them there."
Shan Yu looked down at her intently. "Ah, the musicians. You've brought more than fireworks from Chien K'ang."
She smiled at him with that same gentle happiness he had seen in her at the Great Hall that afternoon. "They are like my family," she said. "Many of us grew up together in a little seaside village north of Chien K'ang. Most of them live in Lo Yang now, where they can ply their arts and make a living. But we all gather together every year when I travel to the markets. Some of them, or their parents, traveled with my Opapa and Oma from Byzantium along the Silk Road. Others, like my mother, were born along the road during the long journey. And some of my Opapa's mummers have come from even further west than Byzantium."
"Mummers?"
"Ah," she said. "Sorry. I'm constantly mixing my languages. It's an old word from one of the far western tribes. Mummers are players who go about in wild masks and costumes at festivals. They can get away with a lot of mischief that way. It's not a bad way to make a living if you're living in a war-torn land, as they were in the West."
Shan Yu relaxed imperceptibly. "So these players of yours are without allegiance."
"Well, they're certainly not soldiers, though some of them had fathers who rode with Attila. My grandfather, my Opapa Jaeger, was a warrior in a Goth tribe fighting under Attila's banner. But he was really happier behind a pipe or paintbrush than behind a sword. It was lucky for him that he was gifted in the arts and music, because at the age of eighteen he received a crippling wound in the hip from a Roman lance. But Opapa continued travelling with the army as a storyteller and singer. He was one of them. The soldiers and their unusual bard understood each other."
"Your people returned from the Western wars?" Shan Yu's eyes betrayed his amazement. "After the great Attila got himself killed by that bartered bride?"
"I see you're not impressed by the Little Father's judgement," Tianlin said wryly. "His death made it necessary for many of his soldiers and allies to flee eastward. Opapa was one of those. But it's a rather long story to tell how he went from solitary bard to leader of a troupe of traveling performers from many tribes. And even longer to tell how they went on to China."
"An interesting story, no doubt," Shan Yu said. "Perhaps you'll have time to share it with me before we part company." As lightly as he spoke the words, still he wondered briefly how much Tianlin's performers knew of the threat of his invasion. Might his enemies have been unduly alerted by the unusual caravan traveling from the coast to the steppes?
It didn't matter, he decided. His troops would be ready for the Khyatad, whether or not the Khyatad were ready for him.
As if she had read his mind, Tianlin looked up quickly and said, "Of course my performers know nothing, Khagan. Only that they are being paid handsomely to share their exotic talents with Urga and make the wedding of the chieftain's son one that will be told across our lands for many years to come." Her smile banished his darker thoughts. "And I hope their arts will give you happy memories of this place, too."
"I already have very good feelings about Urga."
She stopped where a single torch lit the way to a small ger painted with runes and draped with branches and talismans. "Here is my ger. I will wait here until Qaidu and Kaaje are ready."
Shan Yu looked into her eyes. "I hope you will not be long, Priestess. I would be interested to hear more about your people and some of the things we discussed today at the hall." He sighed quietly and tossed his gaze to the deepening sky. "You're right. It's good to sometimes leave off thoughts of war."
"I will be happy to aid you in that," she said with a quick grin. "But go now, Khagan. I suspect that Sukhe has set someone to escort you. It's not too soon to start celebrating."
Before he could speak, she had turned and disappeared into the darkness of her dwelling. He stood looking after her for a moment, an unaccustomed warmth stealing through him. Heart light, he turned and continued down the path.

copyright 1999 Dana Krempels

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