Conqueror: The Complete 5-Book Collection. Conn Iggulden
bows. The warriors were already mounted and milled around, raising dust and confusion. To Temujin’s eye, there seemed no focus to it, no centre of authority. If it had been the Wolves, he knew his father would be dominating the scene, sending the warriors out to protect the herds from raiders. He saw for the first time what Yesugei had seen. The Olkhun’ut had many fine bowmen and hunters, but they were not organised for war.
He saw Enq hobbling through the gers and Temujin took him by the arm. With an angry sound, Enq shook himself free, then started, reaching out to hold Temujin in turn.
‘He’s here!’ Enq shouted.
Temujin struck out from instinct, shoving his uncle onto his back to break his grip. He had a glimpse of warriors moving towards him, and before he could run, he was held in strong hands and practically carried across the bare ground. He fell limp then, as if he had fainted, hoping that they would relax their hold for a heartbeat and let him struggle free. It was a vain hope, but he could not understand what was happening and the men who held him were strangers. If he could reach a horse, he had a chance to get away from whatever punishment awaited him. They passed through a pool of torchlight and Temujin swallowed drily as he saw that his captors were bondsmen of the khan, grim and dark in boiled leather armour.
Their master, Sansar, was a man Temujin had seen only from a distance in his days amongst the families. Despite himself, he struggled and one of the bondsmen cuffed him, making lights flash in his vision. They threw him down without ceremony at the door of the khan’s ger. Before he could enter, one of them searched him with rough efficiency, then propelled him through the opening to land flat on a floor of polished yellow wood, glowing gold in the light of torches.
Outside, the whinnying of horses and shouts of the warriors continued, but Temujin rose to his knees into a scene of quiet tension. As well as the khan himself, there were three of his bondsmen standing guard with drawn swords. Temujin looked around at the faces of strangers, seeing anger and, to his surprise, more than a little fear. He might have stayed silent, but his gaze fell on a man he knew and he cried out in astonishment.
‘Basan! What has happened?’ he said, rising fully. The presence of his father’s bondsman sent a clutch of fear into his stomach.
No one responded and Basan looked away in shame. Temujin remembered himself and flushed. He bowed his head to the khan of the Olkhun’ut.
‘My lord khan,’ he said, formally.
Sansar was a slight figure, compared with the bulk of Eeluk or Yesugei. He stood with his arms folded behind his back, a sword on his hip. His expression was calm and Temujin sweated under the scrutiny. At last Sansar spoke, his voice clipped and hard.
‘Your father would be ashamed if he could see you with your mouth hanging open,’ he said. ‘Control yourself, child.’
Temujin did as he was told, mastering his breathing and straightening his back. He counted to a dozen in his head, then raised his eyes once again.
‘I am ready, my lord.’
Sansar nodded, his eyes weighing him.
‘Your father has been grievously wounded, child. He may die.’
Temujin paled slightly, but his face remained impassive. He sensed a malice in the khan of the Olkhun’ut and was suddenly determined he would show no more weakness in front of him. Sansar said nothing, perhaps hoping for some reaction. When it did not come, he spoke again.
‘The Olkhun’ut share your distress. I will scour the plains for the wanderers who dared to attack a khan. They will suffer greatly.’
The brisk tone gave the lie to the sentiment. Temujin allowed himself a brief nod, though his mind reeled and he wanted to scream questions at the old snake who could barely hide his pleasure at his distress.
Sansar seemed to find Temujin’s silence irritating. He glanced at Basan, who sat like a statue on his right.
‘It seems you will not complete your year with our people, child. This is a dangerous time, when threats are spoken that are better left unsaid. Still, it is right that you return to mourn your father.’
Temujin clenched his jaw. He could not keep silence any longer.
‘Is he dying, then?’ he asked.
Sansar hissed in a breath, but Temujin ignored him, turning to look at his father’s bondsman.
‘You will answer me when I ask, Basan!’ he said.
The bondsman met his gaze then and raised his head a fraction, the tension showing. In the ger of another khan, Temujin was risking both their lives over a breach of custom, even after such news. Basan’s eyes showed he knew the danger, but he too was a Wolf.
‘He was badly wounded,’ Basan answered, his voice steady. ‘As strong as he is, he made it back to the families alive, but … it has been three days. I do not know.’
‘It is almost dawn,’ Temujin replied. He fixed his gaze on the khan of the Olkhun’ut and bowed his head once again. ‘It is as you say, my lord. I must return to lead my people.’
Sansar grew very still at that, his eyes gleaming.
‘You go with my blessing, Temujin. You leave only allies here.’
‘I understand,’ Temujin replied. ‘I honour the Olkhun’ut. With your permission, I will withdraw and see to my horse. I have a long ride ahead of me.’
The khan stood and drew Temujin into a formal embrace, startling him.
‘May the spirits guide your steps,’ he said.
Temujin bowed a last time and ducked out into the darkness, Basan following.
When they had gone, the khan of the Olkhun’ut turned to his most trusted bondsmen, cracking the knuckles of one hand inside the other.
‘It should have been clean!’ he snapped. ‘Instead, the bones are flying and we don’t know where they will fall.’ He took a skin of airag from a peg and poured a thin line of the raw fluid into the back of his throat, wiping angrily at his mouth.
‘I should have known the Tartars could not even murder a man without causing chaos. I gave him to them. How could they have let him live? If he had simply disappeared, there would have been no hint of our involvement. If he lives, he will wonder how the Tartars knew to find him. There will be blood before winter. Tell me what I should do!’
The faces of the men with him were blank and worried as he looked around at them. Sansar sneered.
‘Get out and quiet the camp. There are no enemies here except the ones we have invited. Pray that the khan of Wolves is already dead.’
Temujin strode blindly through the gers, fighting for calm. What he had been told was impossible. His father was a warrior born and no two men amongst the Wolves could take him with a sword. He knew he should ask Basan for details, but he dreaded hearing them. As long as he did not speak, it might still be a lie or a mistake. He thought of his mother and his brothers and then suddenly came to a halt, making Basan stumble. He was not ready to challenge Bekter, if the news was true.
‘Where is your horse?’ he asked his father’s man.
‘Tethered on the north side of the camp,’ Basan replied. ‘I am sorry to bring such news …’
‘Come with me first. I have something to do before I leave here. Follow my orders.’ He did not look to see how Basan responded and perhaps that was why the man nodded and obeyed the young son of Yesugei.
Temujin strode through the Olkhun’ut as they scurried and recovered from the excitement. The alarms had sounded on Basan’s approach, but they had reacted in panic. Temujin sneered to himself, wondering if he would one day lead a war party to these same gers. Dawn had come at last, and as he reached the outskirts, he saw the gnarled figure of Sholoi standing at his door with a wood axe in his hands. Temujin did not hesitate, walking up to within reach of the weapon.
‘Is