LITMIR.BIZ

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      ‘If we agree on a course today, I will send a messenger to the city of Kaifeng. You will have them in less than a year,’ Wen replied.

      Temujin shook his head. ‘More promises,’ he said. ‘Let us talk of things I can touch.’ He looked at Togrul, his yellow eyes seeming gold in the morning light.

      ‘I told you there is a Tartar camp in the north. My brothers and I scouted it thoroughly, seeing how they placed their men. We followed a smaller group right up to a day’s ride away and we were not spotted. If you want me to lead your men on raids, give me ones who have been blooded and I will destroy the Tartars. Let that be what seals our bargain, not gifts which may never arrive.’

      Wen Chao was angry at having his word doubted. His face showed no sign of it as he spoke.

      ‘You were lucky not to meet the outriders of that camp, my lord. I came across them as I returned to the Kerait.’

      Temujin turned his pale gaze on the Chin diplomat.

      ‘They are all dead,’ he said. Wen sat like stone as he digested the news. ‘We tracked the last of them as they ran back to their main camp.’

      ‘Perhaps that is why you brought so few men to the Kerait,’ Wen said, nodding. ‘I understand.’

      Temujin frowned. He had exaggerated his numbers and been caught, but he could not let it pass.

      ‘We lost four men in the raid and killed thirty. We have their horses and weapons, but not the men to ride them, unless I find them here.’

      Togrul looked at Wen Chao, watching his reaction with interest.

      ‘They have done well, Wen, is it not so? He deserves the reputation he has gathered for himself. At least you have brought the right man to the Kerait.’ The khan’s gaze fell on a few greasy scraps of meat left on a platter. He reached for them, scooping up the rich fat in his hand.

      ‘You will have your thirty men, Temujin, the best of the Kerait. Bring me a hundred heads and I will have your name written into the songs of my people.’

      Temujin smiled tightly.

      ‘You honour me, my lord, but if I bring you a hundred heads, I will want a hundred warriors for summer.’

      He watched as Togrul wiped his hands with a cloth, thinking. The man was obscenely large, but Temujin did not doubt the fierce intelligence that lurked in those dark eyes. Togrul had already voiced his fear of being betrayed. How could he trust a stranger better than a man from his own tribe? Temujin wondered if Togrul believed the Kerait warriors would return to his gers unchanged after a battle with the Tartars. Temujin remembered the words of his father long ago. There was no bond stronger than that between those who have risked their lives in each other’s company. It could be greater than tribe or family, and Temujin meant to have those warriors of the Kerait as his own.

      Wen Chao was the one to break the silence, perhaps guessing at Togrul’s misgivings.

      ‘Give just a year to war, my lord,’ he said to Togrul, ‘and you will have another thirty at peace. You will rule lands of beauty.’

      He spoke almost in a whisper and Temujin watched him with growing dislike. Togrul did not move as the words reached his ear, but after a time, he nodded, satisfied.

      ‘I will give you my best men to crush the Tartar camp,’ he said. ‘If you succeed, perhaps I will trust you with more. I will not burden you with other promises, as you seem to scorn them. We can aid each other and each man will get what he wants. If there is betrayal, I will deal with that as it comes.’

      Temujin maintained the cold face as he replied, showing nothing of the hunger that ate at him.

      ‘We are agreed, then. I will want your warrior with me, also, Wen Chao. The one called Yuan.’

      Wen sat very still, considering. In fact, he had been going to suggest the same thing and wondered at his luck. He made himself look reluctant.

      ‘For this first attack, you may take him. He is a fine soldier, though I would prefer him not to know I said that.’

      Temujin put out his hand and Togrul took it first in his fleshy fingers, before Wen pressed his own bonier fingers in a grip.

      ‘I will make them reel,’ Temujin said. ‘Have this Yuan brought to me, Wen Chao. I want to test his armour and see if we can make more.’

      ‘I will have a hundred sets sent within a year,’ Wen protested.

      Temujin shrugged. ‘I could be dead within a year. Summon your man.’

      Wen nodded to one of his ever-present servants, sending him scurrying away to return with Yuan in a few moments. The soldier’s face was utterly blank of emotion as he bowed first to Togrul and Wen Chao, then to Temujin himself. Temujin approached him as Wen barked orders in his own language. Whatever he had said, Yuan stood like a statue while Temujin examined his armour closely, seeing how the overlapping plates were joined and sewn into heavy, rigid cloth underneath.

      ‘Will it stop an arrow?’ Temujin asked.

      Yuan dropped his gaze and nodded. ‘One of yours, yes,’ he replied.

      Temujin smiled tightly. ‘Stand very still, Yuan,’ he said, striding away.

      Wen Chao watched with interest as Temujin picked up his bow and strung it, fitting an arrow to the string. Yuan showed no fear and Wen was proud of his apparent calm as Temujin pulled back to his ear, holding the bow in perfect stillness for a moment as he sighted down it.

      ‘Let us find out,’ Temujin said, releasing in a snap.

      The arrow struck hard enough to send Yuan backwards, hammering him off his feet. He lay stunned for a moment, then just as Temujin thought he was dead, Yuan raised his head and struggled upright. His face was impassive, but Temujin saw a glint in his eyes that suggested there was life somewhere deep.

      Temujin ignored the shocked cries of the Kerait around him. Togrul was on his feet, and his bondsmen had moved quickly to put themselves between their khan and the stranger. Carefully, so as not to excite them, Temujin put his bow down and loosened the string before crossing the distance to Yuan.

      The arrow had broken through the first plate of lacquered iron, the head catching in the thick cloth underneath so that it stuck out and vibrated with Yuan’s breath. Temujin undid the ties at Yuan’s throat and waist, pulling aside a silk undertunic until the bare chest was exposed.

      There was a flowering bruise on Yuan’s skin, around an oval gash. A thin line of blood trickled down the muscles to his stomach.

      ‘You can still fight?’ Temujin asked.

      Yuan’s voice was strained as he spat a reply. ‘Try me.’

      Temujin chuckled at the anger he saw. The man had great courage and Temujin clapped him on the back. He peered closer at the hole left by the arrow.

      ‘The tunic of silk has not torn,’ he said, fingering the spot of blood.

      ‘It is a very strong weave,’ Yuan replied. ‘I have seen wounds where the silk was carried deep into the body without being holed.’

      ‘Where can I find shirts of it?’ Temujin murmured.

      Yuan looked at him.

      ‘Only in the Chin cities.’

      ‘Perhaps I will send for some,’ Temujin said. ‘Our own boiled leather does not stop arrows as well as this. We can make use of your armour.’ He turned to Togrul, who still stood in shock at what he had witnessed. ‘The Kerait have a forge? Iron?’

      Togrul nodded mutely and Temujin looked at Arslan.

      ‘Can you make this armour?’

      Arslan stood to inspect Yuan as Temujin had, pulling the arrow from where it had lodged and examining the torn square of grey metal. The lacquer had fallen away in flakes and the metal had

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