LITMIR.BIZ

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the camp and he knew the odour would stay in his robes until they were washed and washed again. As Yuan drew back the silk hangings, Wen stepped out amongst them, breathing as shallowly as he possibly could. From experience, he knew he would get used to it, but he had yet to meet a tribesman who troubled to wash more than once or twice a year, and then only if he fell in a river. Nonetheless, he had a task to perform and, though he cursed little Zhang under his breath, he stepped out into the cold wind with as much dignity as he could muster.

      Even if he had not seen how the other men deferred to the young one with the yellow eyes, Wen would have known him for the leader. In the court of Kaifeng, they knew of those who were ‘tigers in the reeds’, those who had the warrior’s blood running in them. This Temujin was one of those tigers, Wen decided, as soon as he faced those eyes. Such eyes they were! Wen had seen nothing like them.

      The wind was bitter for one dressed in thin robes, but Wen showed no discomfort as he faced Temujin and bowed. Only Yuan would know the gesture was far short of the angle courtesy dictated, but it amused Wen to insult the barbarians. To his surprise, the raider merely watched the movement and Wen found himself prickling.

      ‘My name is Wen Chao, ambassador of the Chin court of the Northern Sung. I am honoured to be in your camp,’ he said. ‘Word of your battles with the Tartars has spread far across the land.’

      ‘And that brought you here in your little box, did it?’ Temujin replied. He was fascinated by every aspect of the strange man waited upon by so many servants. He too had the yellow skin that looked ill to Temujin’s eyes, but he bore himself well in the wind as it plucked at his robes. Temujin estimated his age as more than forty, though the skin was unlined. The Chin diplomat was a strange vision for those who had grown up in the tribes. He wore a green robe that seemed to shimmer. His hair was as black as their own, but scraped back on his head and held in a tail with a clasp of silver. To Temujin’s astonishment, he saw that the man’s hands ended in nails like claws that caught the light. Temujin wondered how long the man could stand the cold. He seemed not to notice it, but his lips were growing blue even as Temujin watched.

      Wen bowed again before speaking.

      ‘I bring greetings of the jade court. We have heard much of your success here and there are many things to discuss. Your brother in the Kerait sends his greetings.’

      ‘What does Togrul want with me?’ Temujin replied.

      Wen fumed, feeling the cold bite at him. Would he not be invited into the warm gers? He decided to push a little.

      ‘Have I not been granted guest rights, my lord? It is not fitting to talk of great issues with so many ears around us.’

      Temujin shrugged. The man was clearly freezing and he wanted to hear what had brought him across a hostile plain before he passed out.

      ‘You are welcome here,’ he tasted the name on his tongue before mangling it horribly, ‘Wencho?’

      The old man controlled a wince and Temujin smiled at his pride.

      ‘Wen Chao, my lord,’ the diplomat replied. ‘The tongue must touch the roof of the mouth.’

      Temujin nodded. ‘Come in to the warmth then, Wen. I will have hot salt tea brought to you.’

      ‘Ah, the tea,’ Wen Chao murmured as he followed Temujin into a ragged ger. ‘How I have missed it.’

      In the gloom, Wen seated himself and waited patiently until a bowl of hot tea was pressed into his hands by Temujin himself. The ger filled with men who stared at him uneasily and Wen forced himself to breathe shallowly until he became used to the sweaty closeness of them. He longed for a bath, but such pleasures were long behind.

      Temujin watched as Wen tasted the tea through pursed lips, clearly pretending to enjoy it.

      ‘Tell me of your people,’ Temujin said. ‘I have heard they are very numerous.’

      Wen nodded, grateful for the chance to speak rather than sip.

      ‘We are a divided kingdom. The southern borders hold more than sixty thousand thousand souls under the Sung emperor,’ he said. ‘The northern Chin, perhaps the same.’

      Temujin blinked. The numbers were larger than he could imagine.

      ‘I think you are exaggerating, Wen Chao,’ he replied, pronouncing the name correctly in his surprise.

      Wen shrugged. ‘Who can be sure? The peasants breed worse than lice. There are more than a thousand officials in the Kaifeng court alone and the official count took many months. I do not have the exact figure.’ Wen enjoyed the looks of astonishment that passed between the warriors.

      ‘And you? Are you a khan amongst them?’ Temujin persisted.

      Wen shook his head. ‘I passed my …’ He searched his vocabulary and found there was no word. ‘Struggles? No.’ He said a strange word. ‘It means sitting at a desk and answering questions with hundreds of others, first in a district, then in Kaifeng itself for the emperor’s officials. I came first among all those who were tested that year.’ He looked into the depths of his memory and raised his bowl to his mouth. ‘It was a long time ago.’

      ‘Whose man are you, then?’ Temujin said, trying to understand.

      Wen smiled. ‘Perhaps the first minister of the civil service, but I think you mean the Sung emperors. They rule the north and south. Perhaps I will live to see both halves of the Middle Kingdom rejoined.’

      Temujin struggled to understand. As they stared at him, Wen placed his bowl down and reached inside his robe for a pouch. A collective tension stopped him.

      ‘I am reaching for a picture, my lord, that is all.’

      Temujin gestured for him to continue, fascinated at the idea. He watched as Wen removed a packet of brightly coloured papers and passed one to him. There were strange symbols on it, but in the middle was the face of a young man, glaring out. Temujin held the paper at different angles, astonished that the little face seemed to watch him.

      ‘You have painters of skill,’ he admitted grudgingly.

      ‘That is true, my lord, but the paper you hold was printed on a great machine. It has a value and is given in exchange for goods. With a few more like it, I could buy a good horse in the capital, or a young woman for the passage of a night.’

      He saw Temujin pass it around to the others and watched their expressions with interest. They were like children, he thought. Perhaps he should give them each a note as a gift before he left.

      ‘You use words I do not know,’ Temujin said. ‘What is the printing you mentioned? A great machine? Perhaps you have decided to fool us in our gers.’

      He did not speak lightly, and Wen reminded himself that the tribesmen could be ruthless even with their friends. If they thought for a moment that he was mocking them, he would not survive. If they were children, it was best to remember they were deadly as well.

      ‘It is just a way of painting faster than one man alone,’ Wen said soothingly. ‘Perhaps you will visit Chin territory one day and see for yourself. I know that the khan of the Kerait is much taken with my culture. He has spoken many times of his desire for land in the Middle Kingdom.’

      ‘Togrul said that?’ Temujin asked.

      Wen nodded, taking the note back from the last man to hold it. He folded it carefully and replaced the pouch while all their eyes watched.

      ‘It is his dearest wish. There is soil there so rich and black that anything can be grown, herds of wild horse beyond counting and better hunting than anywhere in the world. Our lords live in great houses of stone and have a thousand servants to indulge their every whim. Togrul of the Kerait would wish such a life for himself and his heirs.’

      ‘How can you move a house of stone?’ one of the other men asked suddenly.

      Wen nodded to him in greeting. ‘It cannot be moved, as you move your gers. There are some the size of mountains.’

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