LITMIR.BIZ

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Temujin replied. He turned in the saddle to the man who still waited with a drawn bow.

      ‘If you loose that arrow, I will pull it out and shove it down your throat,’ he told him. The man blinked and Temujin stared until the needle-sharp point was lowered almost sheepishly. He heard Koke’s gasp behind him as Arslan removed the blade and he took a deep breath, finding to his surprise that he was enjoying himself.

      ‘Ride in with us then, Koke,’ he said, clapping his cousin on the back. ‘I have come for my wife.’

      There was no question of entering the camp without visiting the khan of the Olkhun’ut. With a pang of memory, Temujin remembered Yesugei’s games of status with Sansar, as one khan to another. He kept his head high, but he felt no shame as Koke led him to Sansar’s ger in the centre of the camp. Despite his successes against the Tartars, he was not Sansar’s equal, as his father had been. At best, he was a war leader, a raider barely approaching the level where he could be received. If he had lacked even that status, Temujin knew that only his father’s memory would have granted him an audience and perhaps not even then.

      He and Arslan dismounted and allowed their ponies to be taken away, their bows with them. Koke had grown into a man in the years since they had last met and Temujin was interested to see how the khan’s bondsmen accepted his cousin’s right to enter the ger after just a few murmured words. Koke had come up in the world, Temujin realised. He wondered what service he had performed for the khan of the Olkhun’ut.

      When Koke did not return, Temujin was struck by a memory and chuckled suddenly, startling Arslan from his silent tension.

      ‘They always make me wait, these people,’ Temujin said. ‘But I have patience, do I not, Arslan? I bear their insults with great humility.’ His eyes glittered with something other than amusement and Arslan only bowed his head. The cool control he had seen in Temujin was under strain in that camp. Though he showed no sign of it, Arslan considered there was a chance of them both being killed through a rash word.

      ‘You honour your father with your restraint,’ he said softly. ‘Knowing it is not from weakness, but from strength.’

      Temujin glanced sharply at him, but the words seemed to settle his nerves. Arslan kept his face clear of any relief. For all his ability, Temujin was only eighteen. Wryly, Arslan admitted that Temujin had chosen his companion well for the trip south. They had ridden into terrible danger and Temujin was as prickly as any other young man with his new status and pride. Arslan readied himself to be the calming force Temujin had known he needed when his judgement was clear.

      Koke returned after an age, stiff disdain in every movement.

      ‘My lord Sansar will see you,’ he said, ‘but you will give up your weapons.’

      Temujin opened his mouth to object, but Arslan untied his scabbard with a flick of his fingers and slapped the hilt of his sword into Koke’s open hand.

      ‘Guard the blade well, boy,’ Arslan told him. ‘You will not see another of that quality in your lifetime.’

      Koke could not resist feeling the balance of the sword, but Temujin spoiled his attempt by pressing the second of Arslan’s blades into his arms, so that he had to take it or drop them both. Temujin’s hand felt empty as he let it go and his gaze remained fixed on the weapons as Koke stepped back.

      It was Arslan who faced one of the khan’s bondsmen at the door, opening his arms wide and inviting a search. There was nothing passive in the way he stood there, and Temujin was reminded of the deadly stillness of a snake about to strike. The guard sensed it too and patted down every inch of the swordsmith, including the cuffs of his deel and his ankles.

      Temujin could do no less and he endured the search without expression, though inwardly he began to simmer. He could not like these people, for all he dreamed of forming a great tribe of tribes across the land. When he did, the Olkhun’ut would not be part of it until they had been bled clean.

      When the bondsmen were satisfied, they ducked into the ger and, in an instant, Temujin was back on the night he had learned of his father’s injury. The polished wooden floor was the same and Sansar himself seemed unmarked by the passage of years.

      The khan of the Olkhun’ut remained seated as they approached, his dark eyes watching them with a hint of jaded amusement.

      ‘I am honoured to be in your presence, lord,’ Temujin said clearly.

      Sansar smiled, his skin crinkling like parchment.

      ‘I had not thought to see you here again, Temujin. Your father’s passing was a loss for all our people, all the tribes.’

      ‘There is a high price still to pay for those who betrayed him,’ Temujin replied. He sensed a subtle tension in the air then as Sansar leaned forward in his great chair, as if expecting something more. When the silence had become painful, Sansar smiled.

      ‘I have heard of your attacks in the north,’ the khan said, his voice sibilant in the gloom. ‘You are making a name for yourself. I think, yes, I think your father would be proud of you.’

      Temujin lowered his gaze, unsure how to respond.

      ‘But you have not come to me to boast of little battles against a few raiders, I am sure,’ Sansar went on.

      His voice held a malice that set Temujin on edge, but he replied with calm.

      ‘I have come for what I was promised,’ he said, looking Sansar squarely in the eye.

      Sansar pretended to be confused for a moment.

      ‘The girl? But you came to us then as the son of a khan, one who might well inherit the Wolves. That story has been told and ended.’

      ‘Not all of it,’ Temujin replied, watching as Sansar blinked slowly, his inner amusement sparkling in his gaze. The man was enjoying himself and Temujin wondered if he would be allowed to leave alive. There were two bondsmen in the ger with their khan, both armed with swords. Koke stood to one side with his head bowed. In a glance, Temujin saw that the swords he held could be snatched from his grip. His cousin was still a fool.

      Temujin forced himself to relax. He had not come to die in that ger. He had seen Arslan kill with blows from his hands and he thought they might survive the first strikes of the bondsmen. Once the warriors gathered in his defence, it would be the end. Temujin dismissed the idea. Sansar was not worth his life; not then, or ever.

      ‘Is the word of the Olkhun’ut not good, then?’ he said softly.

      Sansar drew in a long breath, letting it hiss over his teeth. His bondsmen shifted, allowing their hands to touch the hilts of their swords.

      ‘Only the young can be so careless with their lives,’ Sansar said, ‘as to risk insulting me in my own home.’ His gaze dropped to Koke and sharpened at the sight of the twin swords.

      ‘What can a mere raider offer me for one of the Olkhun’ut women?’ he said.

      He did not see Arslan close his eyes for a moment, struggling with indignation. The sword he carried had been with him for more than a decade, the best he had ever made. They had nothing else to offer. For an instant, he wondered if Temujin had guessed there would be a price and chosen not to warn him.

      Temujin did not reply at first. The bondsmen at Sansar’s side watched him as a man might watch a dangerous dog, waiting for it to bare its fangs and be killed.

      Temujin took a deep breath. There was no choice, and he did not look at Arslan for approval.

      ‘I offer you a perfect blade made by a man without equal in all the tribes,’ he said. ‘Not as a price, but as a gift of honour to my mother’s people.’

      Sansar bowed his head graciously, gesturing at Koke to approach him. Temujin’s cousin covered his smile and held out the two swords.

      ‘It seems I have a choice of blades, Temujin,’ Sansar said, smiling.

      Temujin watched in frustration as Sansar fingered

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