The Khan Series 5-Book Bundle: Genghis: Birth of an Empire, Genghis: Bones of the Hills, Genghis: Lords of the Bow, Khan: Empire of Silver, Conqueror (196 page)

Above him, a distant hawk wheeled and then hovered, perhaps interested in the man who lay supine on the grass of the plains. Batu raised a hand to it, knowing the bird could see every detail even from such a height.

The sun had moved in the sky by the time his scouts returned. Well trained, they gave no sign that they saw him as they reached the ridge, not until they were out of sight of anyone watching from the yam station. They walked their ponies past him and Batu followed, checking behind occasionally. He did not need to ask them if the message had gone. The yam stations were famous for their efficiency. A rider would already be galloping to the next one, some twenty-five miles toward Karakorum. Torogene would hold his sealed letter in her hands in just three days.

Batu was thoughtful as he trotted across the rich green grass. He knew Guyuk would lose face when the gathering fell apart. Batu’s other message would reach Baidur around the same time and if he acted on the promise of support, many things would change. Baidur would be a better khan than Guyuk, Batu was certain. For an instant, Batu felt a whisper of the old voice, telling him that
he
would also be a good khan, the firstborn of Genghis’s firstborn. It would be fitting, as if the nation had been wrenched back on the right path after too long. He shook his head, crushing the voice in him. His father had wanted to find his own path, far from khans and herds. Speaking to Tsubodai had given Batu a sense of vast reaches of time, a glimpse of decades, even centuries, through the old man’s eyes. He struggled to hold on to it.

Batu tried to think of all the possible futures, then gave it up. No man could plan for everything. He wondered if his pony rode over the bones of long-dead men and shivered slightly at the thought, despite the warmth of the sun.

KARAKORUM HAD NOT SEEN SUCH A GATHERING FOR MANY
years. As far as the eye could see, the land was covered in gers and horses, the families of the nation come to see the oath-taking for the new khan. Baidur had brought two tumans of warriors from the west, twenty thousand men who made a camp by the Orkhon River and kept their boundaries secure. The camp of Sorhatani’s four sons was close by, with another thirty thousand families. The green plains were hidden by them, and gers perched high into the hills as latecomers searched for good ground.

There was no quiet to be had in such a host. Great herds of bleating sheep, goats, camels, and yaks drifted around the city, moving out each morning to open land where they could graze and drink their fill. The riverbanks had been churned into brown mud over the previous weeks and the routines established. Already there had been fights and even murders. It was impossible to gather so many in one place and not have someone draw his sword. Still, the days passed in relative peace and they waited patiently, understanding that the world was large. Some of the nation’s senior men were coming home from as far as Koryo, east of the Chin territory. Others had ridden from new settlements in Persia, drawn by the summons from Karakorum. First to last, the quiriltai would take almost three months to
form. Until the day of the oath-taking, the nation was content to live on the food that flowed out of the city to feed them.

Torogene could hardly remember when she had last slept. She had stolen a few hours the day before, or perhaps the one before that. Her thoughts were slow and her body ached in all its joints. She knew she would have to sleep soon or become useless. At times, she thought only her excitement kept her going. Years of work had gone into the gathering and yet there were still a thousand things to do. Simply feeding the nation from the vast stores took an army of servants. Grain and dried meat were allocated to each prince or family leader, more than four hundred of them.

She wiped a hand across her brow, looking fondly at Guyuk as he stared out of the open window. The walls of the city were higher than they had once been, but he could see the sea of gers stretching away into the blurred distance.

“There are so
many
,” he murmured to himself.

Torogene nodded. “We wait for just a few now. Chulgetei has yet to arrive, though I think he had the furthest to travel. Batu cannot be far off. Perhaps a dozen smaller names are still making their way here, my son. I have scouts out to urge them on.”

“There were times when I thought it was never going to happen,” he said. “I should not have doubted you.”

Torogene smiled, affection and indulgence lighting her face.

“Well, you learned a little patience. It’s a good quality for a khan.” Torogene felt a wave of dizziness and realized she had not eaten that day. She sent servants running to find something to break her fast.

“Baidur is the key,” Guyuk said. “I am sure it was his presence that changed Batu’s mind for him. Will you tell me now what you promised my dear cousins?”

Torogene thought for a moment, but then she nodded.

“When you are khan, you will have to know it all,” she said. “I offered Baidur ten thousand bars of silver.”

Guyuk turned to her, his eyes wide. Such a sum represented the entire output of all the mines they knew about, possibly for years.

“Did you leave me with anything?” he demanded.

Torogene shrugged. “What does it matter? The silver will continue
to come out of the earth. It does no good sitting in locked rooms beneath the palace.”

“But ten thousand bars! I did not know there was so much in the world.”

“Be polite when he gives you his oath then, Guyuk,” she replied with a tired smile. “He is a richer man than you are.”

“And Batu? If the treasure rooms are empty, what did he want to buy his precious oath?”

Torogene saw the sneer on her son’s face and she frowned.

“You will have to have dignity when you meet him as well. Let him see nothing in your eyes, my son. A khan does not show small men they mean anything to him.”

She sighed as he continued to stare at her, waiting.

“We exchanged letters by yam riders. He could not refuse when I told him Baidur had pledged to give his oath to you. I did not have to offer him anything, I think. I did so only to save his pride.”

“He has too much pride, but it does not matter. I will see him broken in front of all the nation.”

Torogene raised her eyes to the ceiling, suddenly frustrated. How many times would she have to explain to her son before he began to understand?

“If you do that, you will have a subject and an enemy.” She reached out and took him by the shoulder as he began to turn away. “You must understand this, unless you think I ruled Karakorum by good luck alone. When you are khan, you must court the men of power. If you break one but leave him alive, he will hate you to the end of his days. If you steal his pride from him, he will not miss a chance to take revenge when he can.”

“Genghis cared nothing for this sort of politics,” Guyuk replied.

“Your father did. He understood far better than Genghis how to rule a nation. Genghis could only win an empire. He could never have been the safe hand it needed once it was formed. I have been that hand, Guyuk. Do not dismiss so easily what I tell you.”

Her son looked at her in surprise. Torogene had ruled the nation for more than five years, ever since the death of his father. For two of
those, she had been almost on her own with Sorhatani, the army in distant lands. He had not given much thought to her struggle.

“I am listening,” he said. “I assume you promised again that I would respect the territory Batu was given, or was it to offer him the position of orlok in the army?”

“I offered both, but he refused the second. I knew then that he would not be khan. He does not burn with ambition, my son, which is why he is no threat to us. I do not know whether it is from weakness or cowardice, but it does not matter. When you have his oath, you can send him back with costly gifts. We will not hear from him again.”

“He is the only one I fear,” Guyuk said, almost to himself. It was a moment of rare honesty and his mother gripped his shoulder.

“He is the direct line of Genghis, firstborn to firstborn. You are right to fear him, but no longer, do you understand? When the last of them come in, you will summon the princes and generals to your tent on the plain, Batu among them. You will take their oath and for the following week you will visit each camp and let them all kneel to you. There are half a million people who will see you then. Too many to bring into the city. That is what I have given you, my son. That is what you have earned with your patience.”

SORHATANI LET HERSELF DOWN CAREFULLY FROM THE SADDLE
behind her eldest son. Mongke stretched down his arm to help her and she smiled up at him. It was good to see Karakorum again. Her home in the Altai mountains was far from the seat of power, but that did not mean she had not followed every twist and turn as Torogene and Guyuk bargained for power. When she looked at Mongke, she could wish he had not given his oath so early, but that river had run its course. Her eldest son had seen his father, Tolui, keep his word, even at the point of death. Mongke could not be an oath-breaker after that; it was not in him. She watched as he dismounted with dignity, seeing again the traditional Mongol warrior in everything he did. Mongke looked the part, with his wide face and heavy shoulders.
He dressed in simple armor and he was already known as a man who had no patience for Chin things. There would be no rich foods in the gers that night, Sorhatani thought ruefully. Her son made a fetish of simplicity, seeing a nobility in it that she could not understand. The irony was that there were many in the nation who would have followed such a son, especially the older generals. Some of them whispered that Guyuk was not a man amongst men, that he acted the woman in his father’s palace. Still more spoke with distaste of the way Guyuk continued his father’s practice of surrounding himself with perfumed Chin scholars and their incomprehensible scribblings. If Mongke had lifted a hand, he could have had half the nation under his banners before Guyuk even knew he was threatened. Yet her son’s word was iron and his oath had been given years before. He would not even discuss the issue with his mother any longer.

Sorhatani turned at a joyous shout and held out her arms as her other sons came riding toward her. Kublai reached her first and she laughed as he jumped down from his pony and embraced her, swinging her around. It was strange to see her boys as grown men, though Hulegu and Arik-Boke were still young warriors.

She caught a delicate scent of apples from Kublai as he put her down and stood back to let her hug his brothers. It was yet another sign of Chin influence on him and the contrast with Mongke could not have been greater. Kublai was taller and wiry of build, though his shoulders had broadened over the previous few months. He wore his hair in the Chin style, with a long queue down his back and the rest scraped tight to his scalp. It flicked back and forth as he moved, like the tail of an angry cat. He wore a simple deel robe at least, but no one looking at Kublai and Mongke would pair them as brothers.

Sorhatani stood back, pride swelling in her at the sight of the four young men, each beloved in different ways. She saw how Kublai nodded to Mongke and that her eldest barely acknowledged the gesture. Mongke did not approve of Kublai’s manners, though that was probably true for all brothers close in age. In turn, Kublai resented Mongke’s assumption that, as eldest, he had authority over the other three. She sighed to herself, her good mood evaporating in the sun.

“There is a ger ready for you, mother,” Mongke said, raising an arm to guide her to it.

Sorhatani grinned at him. “Later, Mongke. I’ve come a long way to see this oath-taking, but I’m not tired yet. Tell me how things are in the camps.”

Mongke paused before speaking, weighing his words. As he did so, Kublai replied.

“Baidur is here, all stiffness and careful formality. The gossip is that he will give his oath to Guyuk. Most of the princes are close-mouthed about their intentions, but the feeling is that Guyuk and Torogene have done enough. When Batu and the others get here, I think we will have a new khan.”

Mongke glared at his brother for speaking first, but Kublai seemed oblivious.

“And you, Kublai,” his mother said. “You will give your oath to him?”

Kublai pursed his mouth in distaste.

“As you have ordered, mother. Not because I feel it is right, but because I do not wish to stand alone against him. I will follow your wishes.”

“You must,” Sorhatani said shortly, all lightness gone from her tone. “A khan will not forget those who stood with him—or against him. He has your brother. If Batu and Baidur kneel to him, I will give my own oath as well, for your father’s lands. You must not be a lone voice. That would be … dangerous. If what you say is true, I suspect there will be no serious challenger. The nation will unite in its choice.”

“What a shame Mongke swore to follow him on the Great Trek,” Kublai said, glancing at his brother. “That was the first stone of a landslide.” He saw Mongke glowering at him. “Come, brother. You can’t be pleased with your man! You jumped early, as soon as you heard the old khan was dead. We all understand it. Be honest, though: Is he the one you would choose, if you were free?”