The Vulture's Nest
Edith looked out upon the dawn.
Mountain ranges were tipped by vivid, ruddy light. The ravine below was in darkness. The courtyard of the Kurgan was a gray square with shadowy corners.
"Look," said Monsey, pointing downward.
On one side of the enclosure some fifty horses were lined with piles of forage at either end of the line. On the other side, the roofless shelters and the open clay of the court itself were filled with sleeping men. Along the walls several sentries paced.
In the darkness, close to midnight, when they had arrived at the castle, Edith had noticed little of this. She had supposed that the only men in the Kurgan were those who had been in Monsey's raiding party. Now she realized that the place sheltered no fewer than two hundred or more.
Monsey pointed out a dozen rifle stacks before the shelters.
"A company of soldiers," he whispered. "Tartars, who were once part of the Turkish army. They know that I am a leader who rewards his men. They came with me from the Caucasus region—waited around Khokand. Look there!"
He indicated a huddle of figures in sheepskin coats and black hats, each one sleeping with a musket in hand, their dark faces upturned to the sky.
"Alamans, who came with Abbas from Kashgar. And at the foot of the tower wandering Kurds and Turkomans—all armed. The Tartars have Mauser rifles, with magazines."
The men were sprawled about the clay, around some ashes of fires, between piles of littered garments, bags of grain, some stacks of women's silk garments, and
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