Adventure Magazine Cover — page 64: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

58 chamber knelt Tevakel Khan on a carpet. ‘What gift, O Kazak,” he asked, ‘‘dost thou bring to the Altyn Juz?” He spoke placidly in the half voice of one who is accustomed to silence in his listeners. An old man, Tevakel Khan, with a thin, good-humored face and brilliant eyes—a straight figure in a horse-hide jacket, the dark mane running down the middle of his back. His embroidered boots had very high red heels and his black satin skull cap was neatly sewn with silver thread. Considering him, Kirdy judged that he was not to be trifled with—a generous man, indulgent with increasing years, but with authority in his very blood. And the Cos- sack tried to think of some fitting gift. He had said that he came to the Golden Horde on a mission, and a present would be ex- pected. But he had no gift. “I bring—” He was about to say a black kabarda stal- lion, but a glance about the compartment checked him. Behind Tevakel Khan were ranged sandalwood and ebony chests, rolls of splendid carpets and saddles ornamented with silver inlaid oniron. The bowls on the little table from which the chieftain helped himself to dried raisins and tea and millet cake were amber and jade. Tevakel Khan was wealthy—a horse meant little more to the nomad than one of the raisins he selected with such care. “T bring a sword,” he said. Tevakel Khan looked at him expectantly. The Cossack requested one of the atten- dants to carry in the curved saber that he had left at the entrance, and he noticed that the Tatar repressed an exclamation of pleasure when he beheld the jeweled hilt and the rich scabbard that the warrior held forth in both hands. Before Tevakel Khan could take it, Kirdy stepped forward and spoke. “T am Ak Sokol, the White Falcon, and I have come to the Altyn Juz from the land of infidels near the setting of the sun.” The Tatar, sipping a bowl of tea, waited in courteous silence. “‘The dog of a Shiite,”’ observed one of his household, “‘said thou wert near at hand on the plain, with two horses. He was flee- ing from the Turkomans. Art thou his brother?” The question was put with thinly veiled contempt, and Kirdy paid it no heed. “AHearken, O Khan of the Altyn Juz,” he HAROLD LAMB went on. “Thy drums beat the summons to saddle. Thy enemies the Turkomans have come up from the southern plain to raid thy herds.” This was a reasonable surmise, and Teva- kel Khan made an exclamation of assent. Pin-points of fire glowed in his dark eyes. “Allah hath caused desire to be born in the heart of Ilbars Sultan of Kwaresmia, the son of Arap Muhammad, lord of Khiva. He thought to find us with our eyes turned the other way, but he has come with a mighty following.”’ Not long since, Kirdy had waged a long battle against [bars Sultan—the Leopard Prince. He had seen the Turkomans wipe out five hundred Don Cossacks, and the memory rankled. “Tlbars Sultan has a high nose and keen eyes; he would rather slay men than carry off beasts and women. He is shrewd, but the blood lust blinds him.”’ A faint surprize was apparent in the emotionless Tatar. “‘What words are these words, O Kazak? Art thou a Fanga—a wizard, to know what passes beyond thy sight?” ‘“‘Nay, I have seen the sultan when swords were drawn. I say to thee, O Khan, that he is terrible in battle.” “And is this thy mission—to praise Ilbars Sultan, the thieving dog, to my face?”’ “As to that, I speak the truth. Yet I sought the Golden Horde to find therein an enemy. Within the year an oath was sworn that this enemy should die.” Whatever the old khan thought of this he kept to himself. Blood feuds were more to be cherished than religious faith, in the steppe. His eye wandered to the curved sword. ‘“‘What is the name of thine enemy, O youth?” “He was khan of the Muscovites.” “Then he is not to be found within our grazing land. Hearken, Kazak. Some have said to me that thou art a spy, sent in advance by the Turkomans. What are words? I bear thee neither ill will nor good. Give me then the sword and go in peace. I have said!’ Kirdy inclined his head. ‘‘And this is my answer, O Khan! Among my people it is a law of laws that a sword may not pass to another, while the master of it lives. Lacking other gifts, I offer to bear the sword on thy behalf in this battle. COMmMiCoooks C© 5}