Empire of Silver. Conn Iggulden
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He came over backwards in a tumble of limbs, moving so fast that he left the torrent of water and fell through empty air. Tolui winced at the flat smack that carried clearly across the water. He watched as the other three looked for him, calling and pointing to each other. Sorhatani felt her husband’s arms tense as he prepared to leap up, but then Kublai surfaced, roaring. His entire body was flushed red on one side and he limped as he climbed out, but they could see he was panting with exhilaration.
‘I’ll have to beat some sense into them,’ Tolui said.
His wife shrugged. ‘I’ll get them dressed and send them to you.’
He nodded, only half-aware that he had waited for her approval to punish the boys. Sorhatani smiled at him as he walked away. He was a good man, she thought. Not perhaps the strongest of his brothers, nor the most ruthless, but in all other ways, the best of the sons of Genghis.
As she stood and gathered the clothes her sons had left on every bush around them, she recalled the one man who had made her afraid in her life. She cherished the memory of the time when Genghis had looked on her as a woman, rather than just the wife of one of his sons. It had been on the shore of a lake, thousands of miles away in a different land. She had seen the khan’s eyes brighten at her youth and beauty, just for an instant. She had smiled at him then, terrified and awed.
‘Now, there was a man,’ she murmured to herself, shaking her head with a smile.
Khasar stood on the wooden base of the cart, leaning back against the white felt of the khan’s ger. It was twice as wide and half as high again as the homes of their people, and Genghis had used it for meeting his generals. Ogedai had never claimed the enormous construction, so heavy that the cart had to be pulled by six oxen. After the death of the great khan, it had sat empty for months before Khasar made it his own. As yet, no one had dared to dispute his right to it.
Khasar smelled the fried marmot meat Kachiun had brought for the midday meal.
‘Lets eat outside. It’s too fine a day to sit in the gloom,’ he said.
As well as the steaming platter, Kachiun carried a fat skin of airag which he tossed to his brother.
‘Where are the others?’ he said, placing the platter on the edge of the boards and sitting with his legs swinging.
Khasar shrugged. ‘Jebe said he would be here. I sent a messenger to Jelme and Tsubodai. They’ll come or they won’t; it’s up to them.’
Kachiun blew air from his lips in irritation. He should have passed on the messages himself, to be sure his brother didn’t forget or use the wrong words. There was no point in berating the man who was digging his fingers into the pile of steaming scraps. Khasar didn’t change and it was both infuriating and comforting at times.
‘He’s nearly finished that city of his,’ Khasar said, chewing. ‘Strange-looking place, with those low walls. I could ride right over them.’
‘I think that is his point,’ Kachiun replied. He took a pouch of unleavened bread from another pot, waving his hand to clear the steam as he filled it with meat. Khasar looked baffled and Kachiun sighed.
‘We are the walls, brother. He wants people to see that he does not have to hide behind stones like the Chin. Do you understand? The tumans of our army are the walls.’
‘Clever,’ Khasar said, munching. ‘But he’ll build walls eventually, you watch. Give him a year or two and he’ll be adding stones. Cities make you afraid.’
Kachiun stared at his brother, wondering if he had managed a bit of real wisdom. Khasar noticed his sudden interest and grinned.
‘You’ve seen it. If a man has gold, he lives with the terror that someone will take it away from him, so he builds walls around it. Then everyone knows where the gold is, so they come and take it. That’s the way it always goes, brother. Fools and gold, together.’
‘I never know if you think like a child or a very wise man,’ Kachiun said, filling another pouch and chewing.
Khasar tried to say ‘wise man’ around a large mouthful and choked, so that Kachiun had to pound him on his back. They had been friends for a very long time.
Khasar wiped tears from his eyes and took a deep breath and a swig of airag from the bulging skin.
‘He’ll need walls at the new moon, I should think.’
Automatically, Kachiun looked to see if anyone could overhear them. They were surrounded by empty grass, with just their two ponies grazing nearby. Beyond them, warriors were busy in the sun, preparing for the great competition Ogedai had promised. There would be prizes of grey horses and armour for wrestlers and archers, even for those who won foot races across the plains. Everywhere they looked, men were training in groups, but there was no one loitering too close. Kachiun relaxed.
‘You have heard something?’
‘Nothing, but only a fool would expect the oath-taking to go without a hitch. Ogedai’s not a fool and he’s not a coward. He faced me when I was running wild after…’ He hesitated and his eyes grew distant and cold for a moment. ‘After Genghis died.’ He took another swig of the harsh spirit. ‘If he’d taken the oaths immediately, not a man in the tribes would have dared raise a hand to him; but now?’
Kachiun nodded grimly.
‘Now Chagatai has come into his strength and half the nation wonders why he isn’t going to be khan.’
‘There will be blood, brother. One way or another,’ Khasar replied. ‘I just hope Ogedai knows when to be forgiving and when to cut throats.’
‘He has us,’ Kachiun said. ‘That is why I wanted to meet here, to discuss our plans for seeing him safe as khan.’
‘I haven’t been summoned to his white city for my advice, Kachiun, have you? You don’t know whether he trusts us more than anyone else. Why should he? You could be khan if you wanted. You were Genghis’ heir while his sons grew.’ Khasar saw his brother’s irritation. The camp was full of such talk and both men were tired of it, but Khasar just shrugged.
‘Better you than Chagatai, anyway. Have you seen him out running, with his bondsmen? So young, so virile.’
He leaned over the edge of the cart and spat deliberately on the ground. Kachiun smiled.
‘Jealous, brother?’
‘Not of him, though I do miss being young sometimes. Now some part of me is always aching. Old wounds, old knees, that time when you completely failed to stop me getting speared in my shoulder – it all hurts.’
‘It is better than the alternative,’ Kachiun said.
Khasar snorted.
They looked round as Jebe approached, with Tsubodai. Both of Genghis’ generals were in their prime and Kachiun and Khasar shared a glance of private humour at the way they came striding confidently across the summer grass.
‘Tea in the pot, meat in the bowl,’ Khasar said without ceremony as they climbed the steps up to the old khan’s ger. ‘We are discussing how to keep Ogedai alive long enough for him to carry the white tails.’
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