The priests had vanished from the gate. This had been closed. But not before Gray sighted groups of the lepers running about in confusion. Some seemed to be armed.
The Wusun wavered under the fire, as undisciplined men are bound to do. Gray forced the girl to crouch in the sand with Timur while he ran forward to Gela. The Kha Khan was shouting angrily at his followers.
"The passages!" Gray seized Gela's arm. "Here, you will be killed. Go down to the passages."
Gela, the hot light of battle in his scarred face, stared at him unheedingly. But Timur, who was not to be left behind, limped forward and echoed Gray's words.
Comprehension dawned on the Kha Khan, and his eyes narrowed shrewdly. He shouted to his men. The tumani began to run back, leaving dark bodies prone in the sand.
Gray made his way to the temple with Mary. A shout of triumph sounded from the wall. The firing did not cease. The blood-lust had been aroused in the men on the wall, who had found the killing of the poorly armed Wusun an easy matter.
But Gray, seeing the set faces around him, realized that the tumani were not going to give up the struggle. It was an age-old feud—the struggle of the oppressed Central Asians against their Mongol captors.
He and the girl were swept along at Gela's side like leaves in a swift current. Down into the temple the Wusun pressed, silent this time. They streamed into the underground corridors, led by men with torches. The shouting over-ground grew fainter.
Once Gray stumbled over a body. It was a woman, bleeding from a death wound in the throat. The priests had been here, and warfare in the Gobi reckons not of sex.
The flutter of a yellow robe appeared in the corridor in front of them. A bow twanged, and Gray saw an arrow appear between the shoulders of the fleeing priest. A knife that the Buddhist held clattered to the floor.