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“My family has been bound to his from birth,” Eeluk said softly. “I have always been loyal.”

  “He knows it, Eeluk. I’m sure he can hear you now and he knows you are first among his men.”

  “Unless he dies,” Eeluk said softly, turning to her. “If he dies, my vows are ended.”

  Hoelun looked at him in sick horror. While the words remained unsaid, the world could go on and she could hold back the fear. She dreaded him speaking again for what he might dare to say.

  “He will survive this, Eeluk,” she said. Her voice quavered, betraying her. “The fever will pass and he will know you remained loyal to him when it mattered most.”

  Something seemed to break through to her husband’s bondsman, and he shook himself, the guarded look in his eyes disappearing.

  “Yes. It is too early still,” he said, looking down at Yesugei’s pale face and chest. The bandages were stained with dark blood and he touched them, coming away with a red smear on his fingers. “Still, I have a loyalty to the families. They must be kept strong. I must think of the Wolves, and the days to come,” he said, as if to himself.

  Hoelun could hardly draw breath as the certainties of her life came crashing down. She thought of her sons and couldn’t bear the calculating expression on Eeluk’s face. They were innocent and they would suffer.

  Eeluk left without another word, as if the courtesies no longer mattered to him. Perhaps they did not. She had seen the naked desire for power in his face, and there was no taking it back. Even if Yesugei sprang healed from the bed, she did not think things would be the same again, now that Eeluk had woken his heart.

  She heard Temuge sob and opened her arms to him once more, taking comfort from his desperate clasp. Her daughter cried in the cot, untended.

  “What will happen to us?” the little boy sobbed.

  Hoelun shook her head as she cradled him. She did not know.

  Bekter saw the warrior he had left to look for his father’s sword. The man was walking quickly through the gers with his head down in thought. Bekter hailed him, but he did not seem to hear and hurried on. Frowning, Bekter ran after him and took him by the elbow.

  “Why have you not come to me, Unegen?” he demanded. “Did you find my father’s sword?” He saw Unegen’s eyes flicker over his shoulder, and when he turned, Eeluk was there, watching them.

  Unegen could not meet his gaze as he looked back.

  “No, no, I did not find it. I am sorry,” Unegen said, pulling his sleeve away and walking on.

  CHAPTER 9

  UNDER WHITE STARLIGHT, Temujin peered through the long grass. It had been simple enough to walk away from Sholoi’s ger, his urine still steaming behind him. Sholoi’s wife and daughter slept soundly and the old man had staggered out to relieve his bladder only a short while before. Temujin knew he had only a little time before they noticed his absence, but he had not dared go near the horse pens. The Olkhun’ut guarded their mounts, and even if they hadn’t, finding his own white-footed pony in the dark amongst all the others would have been almost impossible. It did not matter. His prey was afoot.

  The plains were silver as Temujin moved gently through the grass, careful not to kick a stone that might alert the older boy ahead. He did not know where Koke was going. He did not care. When he had seen a figure moving through the gers, he had watched closely, standing completely still. After seven days among the Olkhun’ut, he knew Koke’s swagger well. At the moment of the recognition, Temujin had slipped silently after him, his senses heightening for the hunt. He had not planned his revenge for that night, but he knew better than to lose a perfect chance. The world was asleep and, in the pale gloom, only two figures moved on the sea of grass.

  Temujin watched the older boy with intense concentration. He loped along on light feet, ready to fall into a crouch if Koke sensed him. In the moonlight, he fancied for a while that he was following a ghost, lured out to where the darker spirits would steal the life from him. His father had told stories of tribesmen found frozen to death, their eyes fixed on some distant horror as the winter reached in and stopped their hearts. Temujin shivered at the memory. The night was cold, but he drew warmth from his anger. He had nursed it and sheltered it through the hard days with the tribe, through insults and blows. His hands ached to hold a knife, but he thought he was strong enough to beat Koke with his bare hands. Though his heart thudded, he felt exhilaration and fear together. This was being alive, he told himself as he followed. There was power in being the hunter.

  Koke did not wander aimlessly. Temujin saw him make for a solid shadow at the foot of a hill. Whatever watchers the Olkhun’ut had posted would be looking outward for enemies. They would not see either boy in that deeper dark, though Temujin worried he would lose his prey. He broke into a trot as Koke crossed the black line and seemed to vanish. Temujin’s breath came a little faster in his throat, but he moved with care as he had been taught, allowing no more sound than the pad of his soft boots. Just before he crossed the shadow boundary himself, he saw a pile of loose stones by the path, a cairn to the spirits. Without a thought, he stopped and picked up one the size of his fist, hefting it with grim pleasure.

  Temujin blinked as he passed into complete darkness, squinting for some sign of Koke. It would not do to stumble across him, or worse, some group of Olkhun’ut boys out with a skin of stolen black airag. Even more disturbing was the thought that Koke was luring him deliberately to another beating. Temujin shook his head to clear it. His path was set and he would not turn from it now.

  He heard low voices ahead and froze, straining to see the source. With the mountain blocking the moon, he was almost blind, and sweat broke out on his skin as each careful step brought him closer. He could hear Koke’s low laugh and then another voice responded, lighter in tone. Temujin smiled to himself. Koke had found himself a girl willing to risk the anger of her parents. Perhaps they would be rutting and he could catch them unawares. He mastered the desire to stride in and attack, deciding to wait until Koke took the path back to the encampment. Battles could be won with stealth as well as speed and strength, he knew. He could not tell exactly where the couple lay, but they were close enough for him to hear Koke begin to grunt rhythmically. Temujin grinned at the sound, leaning back against a rock and waiting patiently to strike.

  It did not take long. The moon shadow had moved a hand’s breadth, lengthening the dark bar at the foot of the hill as Temujin heard the sounds of talking once more, followed by the girl’s low laugh. He wondered which of the young women had come out into the darkness, and found himself imagining the faces of those he had come to know during the felting. One or two were agile and brown from the sun. He had found them strangely unsettling when they looked at him, though he supposed it was only what all men felt for a pretty woman. It was a shame he couldn’t feel it for Borte, who seemed only irritated in his presence. If she had been long-limbed and supple, he might have found some small pleasure in his father’s choice.

  Temujin heard footsteps and held his breath. Someone was coming along the path and he pressed himself against the rock, willing them not to sense him. He knew too late that he should have hidden himself in the long grass. If they came together, he would have to attack them both or let them pass. His lungs began to pound and he could feel his pulse like a great drum in his ears. The breath seemed to expand inside him as his body cried out for air and the unseen figure came closer.

  Temujin watched in excruciating discomfort as the walker passed within a few feet of him. He was almost certain it could not be Koke. The steps were too light and he sensed that the shadow was not large enough to be his enemy. His heart hammered as the girl passed and he was able to release his breath slowly. For a moment, he felt dizzy with the exertion, and then he turned to where he knew Koke would come, stepping out into the path to wait for him.

  He heard more steps and let the older boy come close before he spoke, relishing the shock his voice would cause.

  “Koke!” Temujin whispered.

 
The moving shadow jumped in terror.

  “Who is it?” Koke hissed, his voice breaking in fear and guilt.

  Temujin did not let him recover and swung the fist with the stone. It was a poor blow in the dark, but it made Koke stagger. Temujin felt an impact, perhaps an elbow into his stomach, and then he was punching in a wild fury, released at last. He could not see his enemy, but the blindness gave him power as his fists and feet connected again and again in a flurry until Koke fell and Temujin knelt on his chest.

  He had lost the stone in the silent struggle and scrabbled for it while he held the dark figure down. Koke tried to call for help, but Temujin hit him twice in the face, then resumed his search for the stone. His fingers found it and curled around. He felt his anger surge as he lifted it, ready to smash the life out of his tormentor.

  “Temujin!” a voice said out of the darkness.

  Both boys froze, though Koke moaned at the name. Temujin reacted instinctively, rolling off his enemy and launching himself at the new threat. He thumped into a small body and sent it sprawling with a yelp he recognized. Behind him, he heard Koke come to his feet and sprint away, his steps rattling loose stones on the path.

  Temujin held the arms of the new figure, feeling their wiry thinness. He cursed under his breath.

  “Borte?” he whispered, knowing the answer. “What are you doing here?”

  “I followed you,” she said.

  He thought he could see her eyes shining, catching some dim ray the mountain could not smother. She was panting with fear or exertion and he wondered how she had been able to remain on his trail without him seeing her.

  “You let him get away,” Temujin said. For a moment, he continued to press her down, furious with what she had taken from him. When Koke told the rest of the Olkhun’ut what had happened, he would be beaten or even sent home in shame. His future had been changed with a single word. With a curse, he let her go and heard her sit up and rub her arms. He could feel her accusing gaze on him, and in response, he threw the stone as far as he could, listening as it clicked somewhere in the distance.

  “Why did you follow me?” he said in a more normal voice. He wanted to hear her speak again. In the darkness, he had noticed her voice was warm and low, sweeter without the distracting scrawniness and glaring eyes.

  “I thought you were escaping,” she replied.

  She stood and he rose with her, unwilling to lose the closeness, though he could not have explained why.

  “I would have thought you’d be pleased to see me run,” he said.

  “I…I don’t know. You haven’t said a kind word to me since you came to the families. Why should I want you to stay?”

  Temujin blinked. In just a few heartbeats they had said more to each other than in the days before. He did not want it to end.

  “Why did you stop me? Koke will run back to Enq and your father. When they find we’re gone, they’ll spread out to find us. It will be hard when they do.”

  “He is a fool, that one. But killing him would have been an evil thing.”

  In the darkness, he reached out blindly and found her arm. The touch comforted both of them and she spoke again to cover her confusion.

  “Your brother beat him almost to death, Temujin. He held him and kicked him until he cried like a child. He is afraid of you, so he hates you. It would be wrong to hurt him again. It would be like beating a dog after it has loosed its bladder. The spirit is already broken in him.”

  Temujin took a slow breath, letting it shudder out of him.

  “I did not know,” he said, though many things had fallen into place at her words, like bones clicking in his memory. Koke had been vicious, but when Temujin thought about it, the older boy had a look in his eyes that was always close to fear. For an instant, he did not care and wished he had brought the stone down, but then Borte reached up and placed her hand against his cheek.

  “You are…strange, Temujin,” she said. Before he could respond, she stepped away from him into the darkness.

  “Wait!” he called after her. “We may as well walk back together.”

  “They will beat us both,” she said. “Perhaps I will run away instead. Perhaps I will not go back at all.”

  He found he could not bear the thought of Sholoi hitting her and wondered what his father would say if he brought her back early to the gers of the Wolves.

  “Then come with me. We’ll take my horse and ride home.”

  He listened for her answer but it did not come.

  “Borte?” he called.

  He broke into a run and passed back into the starlight with a pounding heart. He saw her darting figure already far ahead and increased his pace until he was flying across the grass. A memory came to him of being forced to run up and down hills with a mouthful of water, spitting it out at the end to show he had breathed through his nose in the proper way. He ran easily and without effort, his mind dwelling on the day ahead. He did not know what he could do, but he had found something valuable that night. Whatever happened, he knew he could not let her be hurt again. As he ran, he heard the lookouts sound their horns on the hills all around, calling an alarm to the warriors in the gers.

  The encampment was in chaos as Temujin reached it. Dawn was coming, but torches had been lit, spreading a greasy yellow light that revealed running figures. On the outskirts, he was challenged twice by nervous men carrying drawn bows. The warriors were already mounted and milled around, raising dust and confusion. To Temujin’s eye, there seemed no focus to it, no center 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 organized 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 toward 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 armor.

  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 scr
utiny. 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.”