‘Accept merely that I know,’ answered Talisman.
‘We Nadir are a secretive people, and yet also curious,’ said the priest, with a smile. ‘I will return to my studies and consider the question you pose me.’
‘You claim to walk the many paths of the future,’ said Talisman. ‘Why can you not walk the single path of the past and see for yourself?’
‘A good question, young man. The answer is simple. A true historian must remain objective. Anyone who witnesses a great event immediately forms a subjective view on it, for it has affected him. Yes, I could go back and observe. Yet I will not.’
‘Your logic is flawed, priest. If the historian cannot observe events, he must then rely on the witness of others who, by your own words, can offer only a subjective view.’
The priest laughed aloud and clapped his hands together. ‘Ah, my boy! If only we had more time to talk. We could debate the hidden circle of deceit in the search for altruism, or the lack of evidence for the non-existence of a supreme being.’ His smile faded. ‘But we do not have the time.’
The priest returned the bucket to the well and walked away. Talisman leaned back and watched the majesty of the dawn sun rising above the eastern peaks.
Quing-chin emerged from his tent and into the sunlight. A tall man, with deep-set eyes and a solemn face, he stood enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face. He had slept without dreams, and had woken feeling refreshed and ready for the sweet taste of revenge, his anger of yesterday replaced by a cold, resolute sense of purpose. His men were seated in a circle nearby. Quing-chin lifted his powerful arms above his head and slowly stretched the muscles of his upper back. His friend Shi-da rose from the circle and brought him his sword. ‘It is sharp now, comrade,’ said the smaller man, ‘and ready to slice the flesh of the enemy.’ The other six men in the circle rose. None were as tall as Quing-chin.
The sword-brother of Shanqui, the warrior slain by the Sky Rider champion, moved before Quing-chin. ‘The soul of Shanqui waits for vengeance,’ he said formally.
‘I shall send him a servant to tend his needs,’ quoted Quing-chin.
A young warrior approached the men, leading a dappled pony. Quing-chin took the reins from him and swung into the saddle. Shi-da handed him his long lance decorated with the dark, double twist of horse-hair that denoted a blooded warrior of the Fleet Ponies, and a black helm of lacquered wood rimmed with fur. Pushing back his shoulder-length dark hair, Quing-chin donned the helm. Then touching heels to the pony’s flanks he rode from the camp, and out past the white walls of Oshikai’s resting-place.
Men were already moving around the camp of the Sky Riders, setting their cook-fires, as Quing-chin rode in. He ignored them all and headed his pony towards the furthest of the eighteen tents. Outside the entrance a lance had been plunged into the ground and set atop the weapon was the head of Shanqui. Blood had dripped to the ground below it, and the flesh on the dead face was ashen grey.
‘Come forth,’ called Quing-chin. The tent flap was pulled open and a squat warrior stepped into view. Ignoring Quing-chin, he opened his breeches and emptied his bladder on the ground. Then he looked up at the severed head.
‘Here to admire my tree?’ he asked. ‘See, it is blooming already.’ Most of the Sky Riders had gathered around the two men now, and they began to laugh. Quing-chin waited until the sound had died down. When he spoke his voice was cold and harsh.
‘It is perfect,’ said Quing-chin. ‘Only a Sky Rider tree would have rotting fruit upon it.’
‘Ha! This tree will have fresh fruit today. So sad you will not be able to admire it.’
‘Ah, but I shall. I will tend it myself. And now the time for talk is past. I shall await you in the open, where the air is not filled with the stench of your camp.’
Tugging on the reins, Quing-chin galloped his pony some two hundred paces to the north. The twenty-eight warriors of the Fleet Ponies had already gathered there, sitting their mounts in silence. Within moments the thirty Sky Riders rode out, forming a line opposite Quing-chin and his men.