The Khan purses his lips a little. "Right. We need to train more shamans.", he says.
Kahul looks up, a hint of concern hanging on his shoulders. "Yes, Great Khan."
He stands, bows, then turns to leave the tent.
"You can't be serious. His holiness is not right in his mind."
"Silence, Tucay!"
"Botur, surely you must know the risks. He hasn't picked his heir and may very well do so at Kaiyely."
"I agree. We should ensure the safety and security of our tribe. At the very least, we must have a candidate—"
"You are not a member of this council, Tiyala," a white-haired elder speaks out suddenly. The room's attention darts to the elder.
The general remains calm, raising his voice only slightly to convey urgency, "I am aware, sir Khirgem. I only want the peace, safety and prosperity of our people, just as you do-"
"I won't hear anything more about it, General. You were only invired here as a guest. Please take your leave."
The General's face expresses the clear desire to argue further, but, trained in his discipline, he curtly bows and leaves.
The Ynyshu waits until the general's heavy footsteps fade out in the night. The torchlight dances on the score and a half of elders, mostly men, most of their faces bearded, most of their beards showing gray, silver and white, a handful of women also seated, all of them with hair tied back in a bun or tail.
Dhokem's eyes flit back and forth as the council focuses back on Khirgem.
"Yaksha Tiwak te-Koh is a man the people respect deeply. He has guided us through the famine four years ago." A few nod. "His guidance on sheep breeding has allowed us to double our flocks in three years." More join in nodding, others verbally express their approval.
Dhokem, now impatient and not wanting to lose the opportunity, rises quickly to his feet and speaks out. "And even then, this very same mistake led our grandfathers to flee their homeland when Hecey ti-Won was the yaksha!" Several seated at the council nod, but most simply mutter and scoff at the outburst. "Surely you know the risks of the Yaksha picking a mere fool!" The assembly loses its peace. It was too late. The momentum was against him.
Some jeer at Dhokem, and others, provoked by the atmosphere of insult, begin to argue amongst each other. The speaking gets louder until a female kamek-li stands and hits a mallet against a small brass cymbal, drawing the angry crowd to a stifled lull. She sits down, Khirgem's gesture made to her, falling to his side, he pauses.
He stands, "It is a grave disrespect against the Yaksha that we seek to remove him from his office not two days before Kaiyely. The Ynyshu will not be held in contempt of the kamek. Those to vote in favor of choosing a new yaksha... Raise your hand." Khirgem sits back down, as he scans the room as it falls into a silent vote.
A number of hands are lifted into the air. The woman at Khirgem's side scans the room, her mouth moving gently as she counts the hands, including Dhokem's. "13 in favor," she replies.
"And those against?" Khirgem inquires.
Hands go up, including Khirgem's. The woman counts them, same as before.
"18 against."
The winners sit back in relief, perhaps even smug. The losers sigh and hang their heads, the younger among them wearing faces of frustration and spite.
"The Yaksha will go untested through Kaiyely." The woman stands and hits the cymbal three times.
The assembly stands and shuffles out the entrance over the cushions that they had sat upon, leaving the tense mood hanging in the air. Several groups strike up conversations on the way out, cordial and contentious alike. Dhokem leave and splits off from the crowd, heading towards the edge of town, where a hut, which had been abandoned for years, still stands, it's roof sunken in. He steps behind it, the clouds above making the area almost totally dark. "The vote failed, general.
Tiyala let's out a heavy, measured sigh. "Where we're you when I was still allowed in. I didn't hear two sentences out of your mouth the whole time.
"I'm—I'm sorry. I spoke too late. It was 13 to 18."
The sound of the crickets, the wind, and the distant murmur of the kamek-li speaking as they travel back to their homes.
"We can only pray at this point," the general concedes.
"Hm." Dhokem sighs, "I will see you at Kaiyely."
