LITMIR.BIZ

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have no love for your people, no need to keep you alive,’ he said. ‘Unless you can be useful to me, you will be killed here.’

      No one responded and the Tartars did not meet his eyes.

      ‘Very well,’ Temujin said into the silence. He turned to the closest of his warriors, one of the brothers he had brought into his camp in the north. ‘Kill them quickly, Batu,’ he said. The little man drew his knife without expression.

      ‘Wait! I can be of use to you,’ another of the Tartars said suddenly.

      Temujin paused, then shrugged and shook his head.

      ‘It is too late,’ he said.

      In the ger, Arslan had bound the sole survivor of the Tartar force. The cries of the rest had been pitiful and the warrior looked at them with hatred.

      ‘You have killed the others. You will kill me, no matter what I say,’ he said, straining at the ropes behind his back.

      Temujin considered. He needed to know as much as possible about the Tartars.

      ‘If you hold nothing back, I give you my oath you will live,’ he said.

      The Tartar snorted. ‘How long would I live out here on my own without even a weapon?’ he snapped. ‘Promise me a bow and a pony and I will tell you anything you like.’

      Temujin grinned suddenly.

      ‘You are bargaining with me?’

      The Tartar did not reply and Temujin chuckled.

      ‘You are braver than I expected. You have my oath that you will be given whatever you ask.’

      The Tartar slumped in relief, but Temujin spoke again before he could marshal his thoughts.

      ‘Why have you come into the lands of my people?’

      ‘You are Temujin of the Wolves?’ the man asked.

      Temujin did not trouble to correct him. It was the name that spread fear in the north, whether he was part of that tribe or not.

      ‘I am.’

      ‘There is a blood price on your head. The khans of the north want you dead,’ the Tartar said with grim pleasure. ‘They will hunt you down wherever you go.’

      ‘You do not hunt a man who comes looking for you,’ Temujin reminded him softly.

      The Tartar blinked, considering the events of the day. He had begun that morning in the midst of strong warriors, and ended it with piles of the dead. He shuddered at the thought and suddenly gave a barking laugh.

      ‘So we hunt each other and only the crows and hawks grow fat,’ he said. The laughter turned bitter and Temujin waited patiently for the man to regain his control.

      ‘Your people murdered the khan of the Wolves,’ Temujin reminded him. He did not speak of Borte. That pain was still too ragged and bloody to allow past his lips.

      ‘I know of it,’ the Tartar replied. ‘I know who gave him to us, as well. It was not one of my people.’

      Temujin leaned forward, his yellow eyes fierce.

      ‘You have sworn to tell me all you know,’ he murmured. ‘Speak and you will be safe.’

      The prisoner dropped his head as he thought. ‘Loose my bonds, first,’ he said.

      Temujin drew his sword, still spattered with the blood of those he had killed. The Tartar began to turn away, holding out his hands to have the ropes cut. Instead, he felt the cold metal touch his throat as Temujin reached around him.

      ‘Tell me,’ he said.

      ‘The khan of the Olkhun’ut,’ the Tartar said, the words tumbling. ‘He took silver to send word to us.’

      Temujin stepped back. The Tartar turned to face him again, his eyes wild.

      ‘That is where this blood feud started. How many have you killed by now?’

      ‘For my father? Not enough,’ Temujin replied. ‘Not nearly enough.’ He thought again of his wife and the coldness between them. ‘I have not yet begun to repay my debts to your people.’

      Temujin held the Tartar with his eyes as the door opened. At first, neither of them looked to see who had come into the ger, then the Tartar’s gaze flickered and he looked up. He took in a sharp breath as he saw Yuan standing there, his face grim.

      ‘I know you!’ the Tartar said, yanking at his bound wrists in desperation. He turned his face to Temujin in clear terror. ‘Please, I can …’

      Yuan moved quickly, drawing and killing in a single stroke. His blade cut through the Tartar’s neck in a spray of blood.

      Temujin reacted with blinding speed, seizing Yuan’s wrist and bearing him backwards until he came up against the wicker lattice wall and was pinned there. He held Yuan by the throat and hand, his face working in fury.

      ‘I told him he would live,’ Temujin said. ‘Who are you to bring dishonour to my word?’

      Yuan could not reply. The fingers on his throat were like iron and his face began to grow purple. Temujin ground the bones in his wrist until the sword fell from his fingers and then shook him in rage, cursing.

      Without warning, Temujin let go and Yuan fell to his knees. Temujin kicked his sword away before he could recover.

      ‘What secrets did he have, Yuan? How did he know you?’

      When he spoke, Yuan’s voice was a hoarse croak and bruising had already started on his throat.

      ‘He knew nothing. Perhaps I have seen him before when my master travelled into the north. I thought he was attacking you.’

      Temujin sneered. ‘On his knees? With his hands bound? You are a liar.’

      Yuan looked up, his eyes blazing. ‘I will accept your challenge, if you wish. It does not change anything.’

      Temujin slapped him hard enough to rock his head to one side.

      ‘What are you hiding from me?’ he demanded.

      Behind them, the door opened again and Arslan and Kachiun came inside in a rush, their weapons drawn. The gers were not private to anyone standing close by and they had heard the struggle. Yuan ignored their blades, though his sullen gaze flickered over Arslan for a moment. As they watched, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

      ‘I am ready for death, if you choose to take my life,’ he said, calmly. ‘I have brought dishonour to you, as you said.’

      Temujin drummed the fingers of one hand on the other as he watched Yuan kneeling on the ground.

      ‘How long has Wen Chao been among my people, Yuan?’ Temujin asked.

      It seemed to take an effort of will for Yuan to answer, as if he had gone far away.

      ‘Two years,’ he said.

      ‘And before him, who did your first minister send?’

      ‘I do not know,’ Yuan replied. ‘I was still with the army then.’

      ‘Your master has bargained with the Tartars,’ Temujin continued.

      Yuan did not respond, gazing steadily at him.

      ‘I have heard that the khan of the Olkhun’ut betrayed my father,’ Temujin said softly. ‘How could the Tartars approach a great tribe to arrange such a thing? It would take an intermediary, a neutral they both trusted, would it not?’

      He heard Kachiun gasp behind him as the news sank in.

      ‘Did you travel to the Olkhun’ut as well? Before the Kerait?’ Temujin went on, pressing.

      Yuan remained still, as if he was made of stone.

      ‘You are talking of a time before my master was even

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