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Unwillingly, Romelle boarded the Mongolian tarantass with Brad and Chavadzy, but Rebel set out at a trot with the horsemen. This vehicle was smaller than the one that had fallen through the ice. Sitting on large sable cushions, she found it more comfortable than the Russian type.
Damba rode beside them. "It is a better ride, is it not, Madame? The Russian tarantass is clumsy. We are a nomadic people and understand the need to travel light and fast. Thus, our adaptation is superior to theirs."
There was no smugness in the remark, only the simplicity of incontrovertible fact. Still, it was clear from Chavadzy's frown that he had been offended.
"Doctor Chavadzy," Damba went on as if he had not noticed, his tone quickly deferential, "I overheard two of the Cossacks speaking together about last night's adventure on the Selenga. They were most complimentary to you, sir. You must be not only an agile, but also a very brave, man. Have you military experience?"
The frown vanished in a conceited smile. "Only in that I have trained with military units of various sorts. The lieutenant, here, is an officer in the United States Marines."
Damba looked at Brad with new interest. Traveling in mufti, the Marine could not have been identified as such.
"An American Marine?" Damba's pleasure was apparent. "You are on active duty, Lieutenant?"
Brad nodded with a proud glow. "Is there an army in Mongolia?"
Damba laughed. "The only army in my country is one of occupation! There are Manchu garrisons almost everywhere. That is the one area in which I am thankful for my sister's Manchu marriage to an Imperial Prince of the Second Degree. It has allowed my father to successfully forestall the establishment of a garrison at Dragon's Heart."
"No army?" queried Romelle. "But what of the Phantom General?"
Damba nearly fell off his horse with surprise. His mount reared as he momentarily dropped the reins.
Straightening his helmet, he looked down at her with an earnest gaze. "Madame, how do you come to know of him?"
She shrugged. "The Tsar mentioned him to me."
"Omoshiroi desu!" Damba exclaimed involuntarily in Japanese. "Very interesting! That the Tsar should know of the Phantom General! He is our folk hero, Madame, truly a phantom....."
"Who rides down out of the hills, attacks the Manchu caravans, and disappears!" interpolated Romelle. "The more I hear of the Manchus, the more I hope that I shall meet this phantom some day."
Damba shook his head. "I rather doubt it. We are not even sure that he exists, or if he is just the phantasm of freedom all Mongolians harbor in their souls. Whatever he is, he is with us in our hearts every way we turn. He is seen in the night. He is seen in the day. And yet he is not seen at all."
"I notice that you reacted strongly to Madame's remark, but in Japanese," said Chavadzy, his shrewd eyes trained narrowly on the Mongolian. "That was not among the languages you mentioned at the frontier. I would say that you have spent some time in Japan. Hont desu ka?"
Damba gazed back impassively. "It would appear, Doctor, that you also speak Japanese. Yes, it is, as you say, hont , true, that I have...spent time in Japan, but many Mongolians travel there."
"Where they study the martial arts and techniques of modern warfare in secret training camps, preparing for a war of independence against the Manchu," Chavadzy baited him. "Would that not be a most interesting pastime...for a young priest?"
Damba made no reply. With a polite smile, he rode ahead and joined the other lamas.
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