Conqueror: The Complete 5-Book Collection. Conn Iggulden
drunken care, Eeluk dismounted and walked to face the strangers. To his surprise, he saw that they were both armed, though they were not fool enough to draw their swords. It was rare to see long blades in the hands of wanderers. The skill to fold and beat steel was highly sought after amongst the tribes and a good sword would be a valuable possession. Yet the pair did not look prosperous. Their clothes may once have been good quality, but were filthy with ancient dust and dirt. Through the vagueness of the black airag in his blood, Eeluk’s interest was aroused.
As he strode closer, he watched the men carefully, remembering Yesugei’s lessons on judging his enemies. One was old enough to be father to the second, but he looked strong despite his grey hair, braided and oiled into a queue down his back. Eeluk felt a prickling sense of danger in the way he was standing, and ignored the younger one, knowing by instinct to watch the elder for a first move. He could not have explained his decision, but it had saved his life more than once.
Despite being surrounded by mounted warriors, neither man bowed his head. Eeluk frowned at them, wondering at their strangeness and their confidence. Before he could speak, the older of the two men seemed to start, his sharp eyes picking out the leaping wolf on Eeluk’s armour. He murmured something to his companion and both relaxed visibly.
‘My name is Arslan,’ the older said clearly, ‘and this is my son, Jelme. We are pledged to the Wolves and we have found you at last.’ When Eeluk did not reply, the man looked around him at the faces of the bondsmen. ‘Where is the one called Yesugei? I have honoured my vow. I have found you at last.’
Eeluk glowered at the strangers as they sat in the warmth of his ger. Two of his bondsmen stood outside the door in the cold, ready to come at his call. Inside, only Eeluk was armed. Despite that, he felt a constant tension in their presence, for no reason he could bring clearly to his thoughts. Perhaps it was the utter lack of fear in both of them. Arslan had shown no surprise or awe at the great ger Eeluk had had constructed. He had handed over his own sword without a backward glance. When Arslan’s gaze drifted over the weapons on the walls, Eeluk was almost sure he had seen a faint sneer appear on his face, gone as quickly as it came. Only the red bird had held his attention and, to Eeluk’s irritation, Arslan had made a clicking sound in the back of his throat and run a hand down the red-gold feathering of her chest. She had not reacted and Eeluk felt his own simmering anger increase.
‘Yesugei was killed by Tartars almost five years ago,’ Eeluk said, when they had settled themselves and drunk their bowls of tea. ‘Who are you to come to us now?’
The younger man opened his mouth to answer, but Arslan touched him lightly on the arm and he subsided.
‘It would have been earlier if you had stayed in the north. My son and I have ridden more than a thousand days to find you and honour the vow I made to your father.’
‘He was not my father,’ Eeluk snapped. ‘I was first among his bondsmen.’ He saw the two men exchange glances.
‘It was no idle rumour then, that you abandoned Yesugei’s sons and wife on the plain?’ Arslan asked softly.
Eeluk found himself becoming defensive under the man’s quiet scrutiny.
‘I am khan of the Wolves,’ he replied. ‘I have ruled them for four years and they are stronger than they have ever been. If you are pledged to the Wolves, you are pledged to me.’
Once again, he saw Arslan and his son glance at each other and Eeluk grew angry.
‘Look at me when I am talking to you,’ he ordered.
Obediently, Arslan faced the man on the throne of wood and leather, saying nothing.
‘How did you come by long blades like the ones you carried?’ Eeluk asked.
‘It is my craft to make them, my lord,’ Arslan said softly. ‘I was once the armourer for the Naimans.’
‘You were banished?’ Eeluk asked immediately. He wished he had not drunk as much before they came. His thoughts felt sluggish and he still sensed danger from the older man, for all his calm speech. There was an economy of movement about him, a suggestion of hardness that Eeluk recognised. The man may have been a swordsmith, but he was a warrior also. His son was as lean as a rope, but whatever it was that made a man dangerous was not there in him, and Eeluk could dismiss him from his thoughts.
‘I left the khan after he took my wife for his own,’ Arslan replied.
Eeluk started suddenly, remembering a story he had heard years before.
‘I have heard of this,’ he began, straining his memory. ‘You are the one who challenged the khan of the Naimans? You are the oath-breaker?’
Arslan sighed, remembering old pain.
‘It was a long time ago and I was younger, but yes. The khan was a cruel man and, though he accepted my challenge, he returned first to his ger. We fought and I killed him, but when I went to claim my wife, I found he had cut her throat. It is a tired story and I have not thought of it for many years.’
Arslan’s eyes were dark with grief and Eeluk did not believe him.
‘I heard of it even in the south where the air is hot and wet. If you are the same man, you are said to be very skilled with the blade. Is it true?’
Arslan shrugged. ‘Stories always exaggerate. Perhaps I was once. My son is better than I am now. Yet I have my bellows and I can build a forge. I have my skills and I can still make weapons of war. I met Yesugei when he was hunting with his hawk. He saw the value for his families and offered to break tradition, to bring us back into a tribe.’ He paused for a moment, looking back over the years. ‘I was alone and despairing when he found me. My wife had been taken by another and I did not want to live. He offered me sanctuary with the Wolves, if I could bring her out with my son. He was a great man, I think.’
‘I am greater,’ Eeluk replied, irritated to have Yesugei praised in his own ger. ‘If you have the skills you claim, the Wolves will still welcome you with honour.’
For a long time, Arslan did not respond or look away. Eeluk could feel the tension grow in the ger and he had to force himself not to let his fingers drop to his sword hilt. He saw the red bird look up in its hood, as if she too felt the strained air between them.
‘I pledged myself to Yesugei and his heirs,’ Arslan said.
Eeluk snorted. ‘Am I not khan here? The Wolves are mine and you have offered yourself to the Wolves. I accept you both and I will offer you a ger, sheep, salt and safety.’
Once again, the silence stretched and became uncomfortable, until Eeluk wanted to curse. Then Arslan nodded, bowing his head.
‘You do us great honour,’ he replied.
Eeluk smiled. ‘Then it is settled. You have come at a time when I will need good weapons. Your son will be one of my bondsmen if he is as quick with a sword as you say. We will ride to war with blades from your forge. Believe me when I say it is time for the Wolves to rise.’
In the musty darkness of a new ger, Jelme turned to his father, keeping his voice low.
‘Are we staying here, then?’
His father shook his head unseen in the gloom. Aware of the possibility of listening ears, he pitched his voice at barely more than a breath.
‘We are not. This man who calls himself khan is just a yapping dog with blood on his hands. Can you see me serving another like the khan of the Naimans? Yesugei was a man of honour, a man I could follow without regret. He came across me when I was picking wild onions, with just a little knife. He could have stolen everything I had, yet he did not.’
‘You would have killed him if he had tried,’ Jelme said, smiling in the darkness. He had seen his father fight and knew that, even unarmed, he was more than a match for most swordsmen.
‘I might have surprised him,’ Arslan replied without pride, ‘but he did not know that. He was hunting alone, and I sensed he did not want company, but