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 (203 page)

“You were barely a boy when I last saw you, Kublai,” Batu said, his eyes crinkling with a smile. “You are welcome in my home. I grant you guest rights here.”

Kublai almost fell as he dismounted, his legs buckling. Strong arms held him up and he mumbled thanks to some stranger.

“Bring him in before he drops,” he heard Batu say.

BATU’S HOME WAS LARGER THAN IT LOOKED FROM THE OUTSIDE
, perhaps because there were very few partitions. Most of it was an open space, with a wooden ladder leading to a sleeping platform at one end, almost like a hayloft above their heads. The floor was cluttered with couches, tables, and chairs, all haphazard. Kublai entered in front of two of the warriors, pausing on the threshold to let the dogs smell his hand. They seemed to accept his presence, though one of them watched him as closely as the two men at his back. He stood patiently while they searched him for weapons, knowing they would find nothing. As he waited, he saw the heads of children peeping down at him from the second level. He smiled up at them and they vanished.

“You look exhausted,” Batu said, when the warriors were satisfied.

He wore a long knife on his hip and Kublai noted how he had been ready to draw the blade at the first sign of a struggle. Batu had never been a fool and there was a legend in the nation that Genghis had once killed a man with a sharp scale of armor, when everyone thought him disarmed. There wasn’t much threat in a deel robe that stank of old urine and sweat.

“It’s not important,” Kublai said. “I have brought a message from Karakorum. From my mother to you.” It was a relief to be able to say the words he had hidden for so long. “May I sit?” he said.

Batu flushed slightly. “Of course. Over here.”

He gave orders for tea and food and one of the warriors went running to fetch them. The other was a small, wiry man with Chin features and a blind white eye. He took a place at the door and Kublai saw how the man winked his dead eye at the children above them before he stared ahead.

“Thank you,” Kublai said. “It has been a long trip. I only wish the news was better. My mother told me to warn you that Guyuk is coming. He has taken the army away from the city. I followed them for some days until I was sure they were coming north. I’ve stayed ahead of them, but they can’t be more than a week behind me, if that. I’m sorry.”

“How many tumans does he have?” Batu said.

“Ten, with two or three spare mounts to a man.”

“Catapults? Cannon?”

“No. They rode like raiders on a grand scale. All the supplies were on the spare horses, at least those I saw. Cousin, my mother has risked a great deal in sending me. If it became known …”

“It won’t come from me, you have my oath,” Batu replied. His eyes were distant, as he thought through what he had been told. Under the silent pressure of Kublai’s gaze, he came back and focused.

“Thank you, Kublai. I will not forget it. I can wish for more than a week to prepare, but it will have to be enough.”

Kublai blinked. “He has a hundred thousand warriors. You’re not thinking of fighting?”

Batu smiled. “I don’t think I should discuss that with you, cousin.
Rest here for a few days, eat and grow strong, before you ride back to the city. If I live, I will show my gratitude—give my regards to your mother.”

“My brother Mongke is with the khan,” Kublai went on. “He is the orlok of Guyuk’s armies and you know he is no fool. See sense, Batu! I brought you the warning so you could run.”

Batu looked at him, seeing the terrible weariness in the way Kublai slumped at the table.

“If I discuss this with you, I cannot let you go, do you understand? If Guyuk’s scouts capture you, you already have too much information.”

“They would not dare torture me,” Kublai said.

Batu only shook his head.

“If Guyuk ordered it? You think too highly of yourself, my friend. I would imagine that your mother survives because Mongke has supported Guyuk so loyally. And there is only room for one on that particular tail.”

Kublai made his decision, in part because he could hardly imagine getting on a horse ever again, the way he felt at that moment.

“I will stay until it is safe to go. Now tell me you are not thinking of attacking the khan’s army—the army that took Yenking, broke the Assassin fortress, and humbled the Afghan tribes! What do you have, twelve thousand warriors at most, some of them still untried boys? It would be a massacre.”

The food and tea arrived and Kublai fell to with a will, his hunger banishing all other concerns. Batu sipped at a cup, watching him closely. Kublai was known for his intelligence. Even Genghis had remarked on the prodigy and told his brothers to look to Kublai for solutions. Batu could not ignore Kublai’s opinion when it was so completely against him.

“If I run, I run forever,” he said. “I was there in Hungary, Kublai, five
thousand
miles from home. There aren’t many alive who understand as well as I do that the khan cannot be outrun. Guyuk would chase me to the end of the world and think nothing of it.”

“Then have your people scatter in a hundred directions. Have them ride deep into the Russian steppes as herders. Tell them to bury
their armor and their swords, that they might at least survive. You cannot stand, Batu.”

“The forest is vast—” Batu began.

Kublai had revived with the draft of salt tea and he thumped his fist on the table as he interrupted.

“The forest will only slow them down, not stop them. Genghis climbed mountains around the Chin wall with men just like these. You say you know the army. Think, then. It is time to run. I have bought you a few days, enough to stay ahead of them. Even that is not … Well, it is all you have.”

“And I am grateful, Kublai. I have said it. But if I run, how many of the people in this valley will still be alive a year from now? A few thousand? A few hundred even? Their lives are dedicated to me. These lands are mine, given by Ogedai Khan. No one has the right to take them from me.”

“Why didn’t you come to Karakorum? If you had bent the knee then, if you had given your oath, there wouldn’t be an army on the way here.”

Batu sighed and rubbed his face. For a moment, he looked almost as weary as Kublai.

“I just wanted to be left alone. I didn’t want my warriors taken for some pointless war under Guyuk. I supported Baidur, Chagatai’s son, but in the end he chose not to fight for the khanate. I can’t say I blame him. I didn’t expect the gathering to go ahead without me, but there it is. Call it vanity, perhaps, or just a mistake. It could have gone another way.”

“But after that? When Guyuk was made khan you could still have come.”

Batu’s face grew cold. “To save my people, I would have done even that. I would have knelt in front of that perfumed toad and sworn my honor away.”

“But you did not,” Kublai said, disturbed by the extent of the man’s simmering anger.

“He did not ask me, Kublai. You are the first person from Karakorum I have seen since Guyuk was made khan. For a time, I even thought you had come to call me to oath. I was ready for that.” He
waved an arm to encompass the whole camp around them, as well as the dogs and children, the families. “This is all I want. The old khan chose well when he granted me these lands. Did you know that?”

Kublai shook his head silently.

“When I came here,” Batu continued, “I found a few rotting gers and homes of wood, deep in the forest. I was amazed. What were those things of the nation doing so far from home? Then I found a broken saddle, still marked with my father’s symbol. These are the lands Jochi settled when he ran from Genghis, Kublai. The lands chosen by the firstborn of the great khan. My father’s spirit is here, and though Guyuk may never understand it, this is my home. If he just stayed away, I would
never
be a threat to him.”

“But he comes. He will burn this camp to the ground,” Kublai said softly.

“That is why I must face him.” Batu nodded to himself. “Perhaps he will accept a personal challenge, between two grandsons of Genghis. I think he might enjoy the drama of such a thing.”

“He would have you cut down with arrows before you could speak,” Kublai said. “I do not enjoy saying these things, Batu. But you have to know the man would never risk his own life. Put aside these mad plans. You speak in desperation, I understand! But you have no choices …”

Kublai broke off, a thought occurring to him as he spoke. Batu saw his attention fix on some inner place and reached out suddenly to take him by the arm.

“What is it? What came into your mind just then?”

“No, it is nothing,” Kublai said, shaking off the grip.

“Let me judge,” Batu said.

Kublai rose suddenly, making one of the dogs growl at him.

“No. I will not be rushed into it. Give me time to think it through.”

He began to pace the room. The idea that had come to him was monstrous. He knew he was too used to solving problems in the safe confines of the city, without having to consider the consequences. If he spoke it aloud, the world would change. He guarded his mouth, refusing to say another word until he was ready.

Batu watched him pace, hardly daring to hope. As a young boy,
Kublai had been the favorite student of the khan’s chancellor. When he spoke, even great men paused and listened. Batu waited in silence, only frowning at one of his sons when the boy crept under the table and curled himself around his leg. The little boy looked up with trusting eyes, convinced his father was the strongest and bravest man in the world. Batu could only wish it were true.

Finding it hard to think with Batu’s hopes and needs pressing on him, Kublai walked outside without a word. The warrior with the white eye came out after him and stood close by, watching. Kublai ignored the stare and went into the road, standing in the center and letting the people bustle around him. The camp was laid out like a town, with winding roads running through it in all directions. He smiled to himself as he realized none of them ran straight, where an enemy could use them to charge. As with a camp of gers, the tracks twisted and doubled back on themselves to confuse an attacker. There was an energy about the place, from raised voices calling their wares to sounds of construction. As Kublai stood there, he saw two men carrying a log of wood to some unknown destination, shuffling along with a weight almost too much for them. Young children ran around him, grubby urchins still blissfully unaware of the adult world.

If he did nothing, Batu would either attack and be destroyed, or run and be hunted down. Had he truly come so many hundreds of miles only to watch the annihilation of Batu’s families? Yet Kublai had given his oath to the khan. He had sworn to serve him with gers, horses, salt, and blood. His word was iron and he was caught between his oath and his need.

Suddenly furious, he kicked a stone in the road and sent it skipping. One of the children yelped in surprise, glaring at him as he rubbed a spot on his leg. Kublai didn’t even see the boy. He had already skirted his oath in warning Batu, but he could live with that. What he contemplated was far worse.

When he turned back at last, he saw Batu standing with the white-eyed warrior in the doorway, the dogs lying at their feet. Kublai nodded.

“Very well, Batu. I have something more to say.”

GUYUK LOVED THE LONG SUMMER EVENINGS, WHERE THE
world hung for an age, suspended in gray light. The air was clear and warm and he felt at peace as he watched the sun begin to ease toward the west, turning the sky a thousand shades of red, orange, and purple. He stood at the small door of a ger, looking out at the encampment of his tumans. It was always the same, as they made a town, a city rise in the wilderness. Everything they needed was carried on the backs of the spare horses. He could smell meat and spices on the air and he breathed deeply, feeling strong. The light would last a long time yet and the hunger was strong on him. He tried to sneer at his own caution. He was khan; the laws of Genghis would not bind him.

Guyuk jumped onto the pony’s back, enjoying his own energy and youth. His face was flushed. Two of his minghaan officers were nearby, doing their best to look in any direction but his. He gestured to his waiting servant and Anar came forward with his hunting eagle, the bird and the man quiet with tension. Guyuk raised his right forearm, where he wore a long leather sheath from his fingers to above his elbow. He accepted the weight of the bird and tied the jesses. Unlike his falcons, the eagle had always fought the hood. She was bareheaded, her eyes sharp with excitement. For a moment, the bird flapped furiously, revealing the white underfeathers of her wings as they spread
and beat. Guyuk looked away from the furious wind until she began to settle, trembling. He stroked her head, wary of the great curved beak that could rip the throat out of a wolf.

When the bird was calm, Guyuk gave a low whistle and one of the minghaan officers approached with his head down. It was as if the man wished to see nothing, to know nothing of what went on. Guyuk smiled at his caution, understanding it. The man’s life was in his hands at a single glance or poorly chosen word.