feel the same?’ Tsubodai glanced around at the others and shook his head. ‘The nation is falling apart into tribes of tumans, bound not by blood but by the generals who lead them. No, we will not attack Chagatai. My purpose is to prevent civil war, not to be the spark that sets it off.’
Khasar had lost his keen look as Tsubodai spoke, subsiding with an irritated expression.
‘Then we are back to keeping Ogedai alive,’ he said.
‘More than that,’ Tsubodai replied. ‘We are back to keeping enough of a nation intact for him to have something to rule as khan. I hope you did not expect me to have an answer on a single day, Khasar. We could win here and see Ogedai with the horsetails, yet watch as Chagatai takes away half the army and half the nation. How long would it be then before two khans and their armies were facing each other on a field of war?’
‘You have made it clear, Tsubodai,’ Kachiun said, ‘but we can’t just sit and wait for disaster.’
‘No,’ Tsubodai said. ‘Very well, I know enough to trust you. Jelme is not here because he is meeting two of the generals who may be loyal to Chagatai. I will know more when I have exchanged messages with him. I cannot meet him again – and yes, Khasar, this is the sort of secret game you despise. The stakes are too high to make a false step.’
‘Perhaps you are right,’ Khasar said thoughtfully.
Tsubodai shot a sharp glance at the older man.
‘I will also need your word, Khasar,’ he said.
‘On what?’
‘Your word not to act on your own. It is true that Chagatai runs every day, though he does not go far from his warriors. There is a small chance you could arrange archers in place to take him from cover, but if you failed, you would ruin everything your brother worked for, everything that cost the lives of so many of those you loved. The entire nation would go up in flames, Khasar.’
Khasar gaped at the general who seemed to be reading his very thoughts. His guilty expression was there for all to see as he forced the cold face. Before he could reply, Tsubodai spoke again.
‘Your word, Khasar. We want the same thing, but I cannot plan around you, without knowing what you will do.’
‘You have it,’ Khasar said grimly.
Tsubodai nodded as if it was a minor point in a discussion.
‘I will keep you all informed. We cannot meet often, with the number of spies in the camp, so we will send trusted messengers. Write nothing down and never use the name of Chagatai again, not after today. Call him the Broken Lance if you must speak of him. Know that we will find a way through.’
Tsubodai rose smoothly to his feet and thanked Khasar for his hospitality.
‘I must leave now, to find out what they promised Jelme in return for his support.’ He bowed his head and climbed lithely down the steps, making Khasar and Kachiun feel old just to watch.
‘Be grateful for one thing,’ Kachiun said softly, watching the general stride away. ‘If he wanted to be khan, it would be even harder.’
Ogedai stood in shadows, at the base of the ramp that led to light and air above. The great oval was finished at last, the smell of wood, paint and varnish strong in the air around him. It was easy to imagine the athletes of his people walking out to the roar of thirty thousand men and women. Ogedai saw it all in his mind and he realised he was feeling better than he had for many days. The Chin healer had spoken much about the dangers of foxglove powder, but Ogedai only knew that it eased the constant ache in his chest. Two days before, a sharp pain had driven him to his knees in his private apartments. He grimaced at the remembered pressure, like being trapped in a small space and unable to open his lungs to air. A pinch of the dark powder mixed in red wine had brought release like ropes snapping around his chest. He walked with death, he was certain of it, but it was still two steps behind.
The builders were leaving the great stadium in their thousands, though Ogedai barely looked at the river of exhausted faces passing him. He knew they had worked all night so he would be satisfied, and that was only right. He wondered how they felt about the emperor of the Chin kneeling to his father. If Genghis had been forced to such a shame, Ogedai doubted he could be so calm, so accepting. Genghis had told him that the Chin had no concept of nation. Their ruling elite talked of empires and emperors, but the peasants could not stand high enough to see so far. Instead, they found smaller loyalties to cities and local men. Ogedai nodded to himself. It was not so long since the tribes of his people had done the same. His father had dragged them all into a new era and many of them still did not understand the breadth of his vision.
Most of the crowd stared at the ground as they walked past, terrified of attracting his notice. Ogedai’s heart began to beat faster as he saw a different reaction in some of those approaching him. He felt the need to walk out of the shadows into light and had to strangle the urge. His chest ached, but there was none of the terrible weariness that usually dogged him no matter how much he slept. Instead, his senses were alive. He could smell and hear everything around him, from the garlic-laced food of the workmen, to the whispered voices.
The world seemed to strain and then burst, leaving him almost dazed. Ahead of him were men who stared and then deliberately turned away, their reaction marking them out like a raised flag. Ogedai saw no signal, but almost as one they drew knives from their clothing; short, hacking blades of the sort carpenters used to trim posts. The crowd began to swirl as more and more people realised what was happening. Voices cried out hoarsely, but Ogedai remained very still, the centre of the growing storm. He had locked eyes with the closest of the men as he shoved his way past others, his blade held high.
Ogedai watched the man approach. Slowly, he opened his arms wide, then wider, his outstretched hands buffeted by the fleeing crowd. The attacker shouted something, a wild sound lost in the clamour. Ogedai showed his teeth as the man was struck from the side, his body crumpling away from the armoured Guard who had hit him.
As his Guards trampled and slaughtered the men in the shadowy tunnel, Ogedai slowly lowered his arms, watching coldly. They left two alive, as he had ordered, clubbing them down with sword hilts until their faces were swollen masks. The rest were killed like goats.
In just moments, the first officer stood before him, his chest heaving and his pale face spattered with filth.
‘Lord, are you well?’ the man said, a study of confusion.
Ogedai turned his gaze away from the soldiers still thumping at the dead flesh of men who had dared to attack their master.
‘Why would you think otherwise, Huran? I am unharmed. You have done your work.’
Huran bowed his head and almost turned away, but he could not.
‘My lord, there was no need for this. We have followed these men for two days. I have searched their lodgings myself and there has never been a moment in Karakorum when I did not have eyes on them. We could have taken them without any risk to you.’
He was clearly struggling to find the right words, but Ogedai felt lighter and stronger than he had in too long. His mood was mellow as he replied.
‘Say
