“No, having taught it to me, you should have known better to sneak up on me like that.” She punctuated these last two words with a finger to Gansukh’s chest.
Gansukh laughed, pretending to be physically shaken by the force of her strident poking. “Ah, what’s a little rough contact between-” He paused, reading something in her expression. “What is it?” he asked, his tone losing its levity.
“Nothing,” she said.
He caught her hand as she tried to withdraw it, and pulled her toward him. She minced forward, letting herself be dragged close. “I don’t believe you.” He touched her hair lightly, his hand hesitating-wanting to stroke her head, but not wanting to be so affectionate in public. “I haven’t seen you for several days.”
“I know. Second Wife has been in need of company, and Chucai asked me to report on her moods.”
Gansukh smiled. “And he needed you for that? I could tell him her moods. Anyone could tell him her moods.”
Lian fought the urge to smile. “Also, as long as I am with Jachin, I am…” She wrestled momentarily with telling Gansukh what had been on her mind right before he had grabbed her. She fought the urge to lean into his touch-to let him hold her. “It’s… Munokhoi,” she said.
“Ah, I see.” Gansukh nodded, a thoughtful expression tightening his face. “Has he threatened you?”
Lian shook her head. “I haven’t see him, but I know he hasn’t forgotten what happened during the Chinese raid.”
“He is to be relieved of his command,” Gansukh said. He moved to Lian as he spoke, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I don’t know when it is going to happen, but I suspect it will be soon. And when he is stripped of his rank, he will no longer be protected by the rules of the Torguud.”
This was all the confirmation she needed for her suspicions. Without the rules of the Torguud mandating his behavior and protecting him from reprisals, he would be even more liable to seek revenge for the injuries done to his reputation. “Are you…?”
Gansukh shook his head, a hard smile pulling back his lips. “Do you take me for a scared boy from the steppes?” he asked, mock outrage in his voice. There was a gleam in his eyes, an excitement that was equally frightening and thrilling to see.
“Staying with Second Wife is a good idea. It puts you out of harm’s way,” Gansukh continued, trying to soothe Lian’s fears. Trying to pretend that he hadn’t revealed the hunter’s delight in his heart.
She felt a momentary pang of guilt as relief washed over her. She didn’t need to be the bait that drew Munokhoi out. She didn’t have to put herself in danger.
Gansukh was already planning on hunting Munokhoi. He knew what had to be done, and he had no reticence about doing it.
A commotion beyond the nearest rank of ger gave Lian an excuse to break away from the confusing elation and horror brought on by this train of thought, and they separated to a more discrete distance as they hurried through the ger.
A large crowd gathered near the Khagan’s ger: courtiers, merchants, Torguud-both on horseback and on foot-and other riders, bearing the sky-blue banners of the Darkhat. As she and Gansukh approached the verge of the crowd, a ripple ran through the host as they parted to allow someone to approach the steps of the wheeled ger.
Ogedei ascended to the platform and turned to address the crowd. He planted his feet firmly on the wooden platform, standing more firmly than he had earlier, and when he spoke his voice was strong and clear. As if his words came straight from an equally clear and resolute mind. “I have offered my prayers to the spirit of my father and to the spirits of our ancestors, Borte Chino and Qo’ai Maral. They have accepted my prayers and blessed my sacred mission.” The Khagan paused as the audience cheered his pronouncement, and Lian noticed he did not lean on the railing for support while he waited. “We have come to this sacred land to hunt a great beast, a martial spirit of our ancestors. Our success in this hunt will ensure the prosperity and longevity of the empire.” Another cheer interrupted him, and he swayed slightly as if buffeted by the fervor of those gathered. “Clan Darkhat has shown us this pleasant valley,” Ogedei continued, “and this will be our camp for the duration of our stay. By the pleasure of the Blue Wolf, let us not stay long!”
The audience erupted into noise once more, and Ogedei’s final words were lost in the cacophony of voices. The Khagan threw up his arms, exulting in the adoration of his subjects, and then he turned and disappeared into his ger.
“There will be a feast tonight,” Gansukh whispered, his mouth close to her ear. “That is when the hunt begins.”
Which hunt? Lian thought, a shiver running along her arms.
Unlike the intricate and complicated preparations necessary to organize the caravan, setting up camp and preparing for a feast were activities that the host of servants, attendants, tradesmen, and guards knew by heart. Oddly enough, these few hours were some of the only unstructured time Master Chucai had. Typically, he would withdraw to his ger and spend a few hours in delightful solitude, but tonight, as the camp buzzed with preparations for an immense feast to celebrate the Khagan’s hunt in the morning, he sought out two men: Alchiq, the old drunk, and Ghaltai, the leader of the Darkhat.
He found Alchiq near the wagons carrying the prisoners from the West. The gray-haired veteran was assisting with the sparse meals for the caged fighters, and when he noticed Chucai watching, he handed off his bucket of slop and rice to the caravan master.
“Good evening, Master Chucai,” he said, offering a short bow. “May I be of assistance?”
“How is it that a one-time companion of the Khagan-a man who commanded at least a jaghun in his time-is now serving slop to foreign prisoners?” Chucai asked with some curiosity. The idea of Munokhoi serving in this stead floating across his mind, and he quickly dismissed such a possibility as unlikely.
“After you exiled me, I drank a great deal,” Alchiq said. “I rode and I drank; I didn’t care where I went, just as long as I could refill my skin of arkhi.” He gestured at the row of cages behind him. “Serving men like this was all I was suited for.”
“And yet, earlier today, you wanted to serve your Khagan again.”
“I’ve never stopped wanting to serve,” Alchiq corrected him. “But I was a drunk. I stood by the Khagan and gave him an excuse to drink. We had conquered the world. What did it matter what we did next?”
Chucai said nothing; the man clearly had a speech he had been waiting a long time to deliver. Better to let him get it out.
“But it did matter, didn’t it?” Alchiq said. “That was why you banished me and the others. Why you kept reminding the Khagan of what his father had accomplished.” Alchiq shook his head. “We all hated you; we thought you were the poison that would destroy the empire.” He spat in the dirt.
“Why did you come back?” Chucai asked.
“I was with Batu Khan as he conquered lands in the Khagan’s name,” Alchiq said. I was there when he stormed Kiev, and I rode with his men when they tried to take the white citadel at the top of the hill.” Alchiq lifted his long hair off his neck and showed Chucai the ravaged line of scar tissue that ran down his neck and disappeared into his robe. The flesh was bubbled and ragged as if the skin had been liquefied and then allowed to cool.
“We tried for two weeks to take the citadel,” Alchiq continued, “and would have continued to throw ourselves against its walls until every last one of us were dead if Batu had had his way. It was General Subutai who pulled him away from the siege. There were only a handful of warriors in the keep, the general argued, and there were other lands to conquer. Beating down those walls was not worth the effort, not when there were richer prizes to be won more easily. Batu relented, but he left some of us behind. To wait for the day when those gates opened and we could finish them off.”