Teb-Tengri? Regbi laughed her incredulity: if he was Teb-Tengri, then she was The Eternal Sky incarnate. Regbi only knew about him from her grandmother’s rantings, but that was all she needed to say for certain that she was being lied to. He was the chieftain of all the desert shamans, their spiritual authority—what business would he have in the scrubby outskirts of a ramshackle steppe city?
“No you’re not,” she scoffed.
“No?”
“No. We both know he’s in the desert somewhere dispensing wisdom from a mountain or some such place,” Regbi confidently stated. “Just because I don’t know everything there is to know about being a shaman doesn’t mean that I’m a complete idiot.”
“I never took you for one,” Khadan said with an indulgent smile.
“Then you should know better than to think I’d believe a claim like that.”
“Even after you’ve had a taste of my magic?”
That gave Regbi some pause. It was powerful to be sure. More powerful than any she had ever experienced. More powerful than Setseg’s even, who, for all her other failings was a great shaman. It had overwhelmed her own without any semblance of a struggle.
“If that’s true, then why would you be outside of your desert?” Regbi ventured.
“I thought I might travel.”
Rebgi was struck with the image of him skipping suitcase-in-hand onto a rickety train and laughed into her hands. It wasn’t any less absurd than thinking of him as Teb-Tengri. A shaggy haired, indolent Teb-Tengri who did nothing more than smoke from his bone pipe and sing stupid songs to his camel.
“Oh, well, naturally,” Regbi snickered. “Decided you’d take in the sights, did you?”
“I was in the midst of a spiritual crisis and thought some new perspective might help in overcoming it,” Khadan said unperturbedly. That he remained so cool in the face of her smirking disbelief counted in his favor, Regbi conceded. She would have been tempted to lob a tea cup at herself in his position.
“I see.”
“You don’t believe me.” It was a statement, not a question.
“You have to admit that it’s a grand claim to make,” Regbi said with a shrug of her little hands. “Claiming you’re some great spiritual authority who lords over all the other shamans…even if you are powerful, it’s hard to buy.”
“Why? Because I live so humbly?”
“Humbly? What’s humble about any of this? You live in a practical dragon’s keep! This is a treasure-trove of luxury compared to the places I’ve lived in!” Regbi shrieked, gesturing wildly to the lush carpets and embroidered pillows lining the walls. “If any of this seems humble to you, then maybe you really are who you claim to be.”
“If that’s so, then I was right in thinking that I needed new perspective,” Khadan said, frowning to himself. “Is that why you tried to rob me? Because you’re poor and saw that I had so many nice things?”
Regbi sputtered like an overfilled kettle brought to boil. “Do you think all poor people are thieves?”
“No.”
“Well they’re not! I’ve been poor most of my life and only became a thief fairly recently, I’ll have you know. And it had nothing to do with being poor.”
Khadan listened with an expectant tilt of his head. He showed too much interest for Regbi to want to continue.
“But this isn’t about me. You can’t go around making wild claims and expecting people to believe you without providing any real proof. It’s—it’s unscientific!”
“No one has ever asked me to prove who I am before,” Khadan murmured, resting his chin in his hand.
“How convenient.”
“Teb-Tengri is said to have a Third Eye, isn’t he?” Khadan said, looking to Regbi. She nodded. “Then it should follow that if I really am who I claim to be that I would too, yes?”
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“I would think so,” Regbi agreed. “But if you really did, how come you couldn’t guess my name? There are no secrets that a Third Eye can’t see through. Something as simple as a name shouldn’t have posed a problem.”
“I prefer not to pry into people’s secrets. It’s more satisfying to let them share them with me themselves…but if you want me to prove who I am, then ask me to tell you something that I would have no other way of knowing.”
“Tell me the name of my spirit. Its real name,” Regbi said, arms crossed in challenge.
“Kharakhaikha. The Black Wind of the Lake,” Khadan said after a brief pause.
Her mouth fell open but no words came out. Slowly, she raised a quivering finger to his face then curled it back into her palm. She tucked her fist under her chin and regarded him longer than what was polite before shaking her head and muttering, “How…”
“Third Eye,” Khadan said, tapping the middle of his forehead. “If you’re still not convinced, ask me another question.”
“No, that’s all right…” She had no desire to shout questions at him like he was performing some cheap party trick. Not when he had so easily guessed such an intimate thing already. “You…you really are Teb-Tengri then, aren’t you?”
He nodded, as if granting her a boon. “Yes, but as we already decided against any kowtowing, I don’t see any reason for it now.”
His loftiness shocked her out of her stupor. “I wasn’t planning on it, Khadan. If that’s even your real name.”
“It is. Teb-Tengri is just a title,” Khadan said. “There have been lots of other Teb-Tengris before me, but no other Khadans that I can think of. You can keep calling me that if you like; I didn’t realize how much I had missed hearing it until now.”
“That’s magnanimous of you,” Regbi said. And it was, for all the ironic upturn of her voice. She wasn’t sure why she insisted upon being so rude now that she knew who he was. It was probably for the same reason she kept her hands locked together in her lap; they trembled less that way. She had tried to rob Teb-Tengri—she had beaten him with a wooden ladle and called him all number of insolent things. Accused him of being a malicious shaman and a Curse Speaker and an indolent bum. This was how she died, blasted into dust by a shaman so powerful he read all her secrets in the span of one dispassionate glance.
A hazy smile spread across Khadan’s face and Regbi wondered just how much he could make out in her expression.
“How is it that someone like you finds himself in a place like this?” Regbi asked him in more subdued tones. She staggered to her feet and set to filling the kettle. It seemed like the thing to do, even if the tea wasn’t hers to offer. “That is, there are much nicer parts to visit than these. Lakes and forests, mountains even…”
“I never travel to a place unless I feel called to it and stay only so long as it holds an attraction for me,” Khadan said, reclining against the carpet. He was a man born to sprawl it seemed. It suited him much better than any other position Regbi had seen him in. There was a natural laziness about him, Teb-Tengri or not; it seemed more likely that he administered his wisdoms from a mountain of pillows rather than rock. “For whatever reason this felt like the place to be. And then just as I was beginning to wonder why, along flies a little bird, come to thieve in my ger…”
Regbi flushed, turning her face towards the fire. “I told you I was sorry for that.”
“And I told you I don’t mind; if that’s what brought you here, then so be it. Though I would have preferred if you had knocked politely instead and greeted me with a cup of tea. You’re making me one now though, so I suppose I can content myself with that.” He chuckled to himself. His laughter was as dry as a desert wind. “I hope you’re not resolved to be respectful now that you know who I am. I was really enjoying myself.”
“I’m more than happy to be rude if that’s what you prefer. It comes more easily to me than good manners ever have.” She presented him with a precariously full cup of tea. It sloshed over the rim as she handed it to him.
“You’re a prickly little creature to be sure, but that’s part of your appeal. You shouldn’t change that on my behalf.” He sipped the tea and grimaced. “The only thing I’ll insist on is how you prepare tea.”
“Too much salt?”
“Only by a barrelful.”
Regbi poured herself a cup and shrugged; it tasted just fine to her. But she supposed it was a small concession to make in exchange for learning from Teb-Tengri.
“Khadan? Why is it that you’ve taken me on as your student?” she asked him after the silence had had a chance to settle in. “You must have lots of people asking you to. More qualified people than me in any case.”
“You didn’t ask; I did.” He attempted another sip of the tea before giving up on it entirely. He set it far enough away that he wouldn’t have to look at it. “I’ve had countless people ask me, if you want to know the truth. And I’ve turned down every last one of them. If you want to know why I chose you, I suppose it’s because you felt like the right fit. Or maybe it’s that you came into my life at the right time, or found me at the correct juncture in yours. Who can say for certain?”
He arched his back, stretching his arms up towards the rafters. “This whole experience has left me feeling very tired, Magpie. I don’t know about you, but I could use some sleep.”
With that said, he turned his back to her and fell asleep exactly where he lay. Regbi took a minute or two more to finish her tea, making the journey back to her pallet before she followed suit. She didn’t know what to think of what had happened. Of the magic that had bound itself to hers, of the sleeping shaman snoring contentedly nearby. Her head was too newly returned to her shoulders for her to bother with heavy contemplation. She decided to leave the questions for another time and settled for sleep.