The Khan Series 5-Book Bundle

by Conn Iggulden

  “And how will that help us?” Ho Sa demanded. “Do you think the boatmen will ignore a Mongol archer firing arrows over their river? Why did your brother send you for this work?”

  Khasar let his hand fall from where he had grasped his bow. He turned to Ho Sa in the moonlight. In truth, he had wondered the same thing, but he would never admit it to Ho Sa or his studious brother.

  “To protect Temuge, I imagine,” he said. “He is here to learn the Chin language and check you are not betraying us when we reach the city. You are only here to talk and you have proved that enough times today already. If we are attacked by Chin soldiers, my bow will be more valuable than your mouth.”

  Ho Sa sighed. He had not wanted to broach the subject, but his own temper was barely in check and he too was weary.

  “You will have to leave your bow here. You can bury it in the river mud before dawn.”

  Khasar was rendered speechless at that. Before he could express his indignation, Temuge laid a calming hand on his shoulder, feeling him jerk.

  “He knows these people, brother, and he has kept faith with us so far. We must take the river and your bow would raise suspicions from the start. We have bronze and silver to buy goods along the way so that we have something to trade in Baotou. Merchants would not carry a Mongol bow.”

  “We could pretend to be selling it,” Khasar replied. In the gloom, he rested his hand on the weapon where it was tied to his saddle as if that touch brought him comfort. “I will turn my pony loose, yes, but I will not give up my bow, not for a dozen secret river trips. Do not test me on this, my answer will be the same no matter what you say.”

  Ho Sa began to argue again, but Temuge shook his head, tired of them both.

  “Let it rest, Ho Sa,” he said. “We will wrap the bow in cloth and perhaps it will not be noticed.” He dropped his hand from Khasar’s shoulder and moved away to free his pony from the burdens of saddle and reins. It would take time to bury those and he could not risk falling asleep until the work had been done. He wondered again why Genghis had chosen him for the task of accompanying the two warriors. There were others in the camp who knew the Chin tongue, Barchuk of the Uighurs among them. Perhaps that one was too old, Temuge thought. He sighed as he undid the ropes on his mount. Knowing his brother as he did, Temuge suspected Genghis still hoped to make a warrior of him. Kokchu had shown him a different path and he wished his master were there to help him meditate before sleep.

  As he led the pony away into the darkness of the river trees, Temuge could hear his companions resume their argument in fierce whispers. He wondered if they had a chance of surviving the trip to the city of Baotou. When he had made a mat of rushes and lain down, he tried hard to shut out the strained voices, repeating the phrases Kokchu had told him would bring calm. They did not, but sleep came while he was still waiting.

  In the morning, Ho Sa raised his arm to another boat as it tacked against the wind to come upriver. Nine times the gesture had been ignored, though he held a leather purse of coins and jingled the contents. All three breathed in relief as the latest boat swung across the water toward them. On board, six sun-darkened faces stared suspiciously in their direction.

  “Say nothing to them,” Ho Sa murmured to Temuge as they stood in the mud and waited for the boat to come closer. He and the two brothers wore simple robes tied at the waist that would not look too strange to the river crews. Khasar bore a roll of saddlecloth over one shoulder that contained his bow in its leather half-case and a full quiver. He stared at the boat in some interest, never having seen such a thing in daylight. The sail was almost as high as the boat was long, perhaps forty feet from end to end. He could not see how it could come close enough for them to step onto its small deck.

  “The sail looks like a bird wing. I can see the bones of it,” he said.

  Ho Sa turned sharply toward him. “If they ask, I will say you are a mute, Khasar. You must not speak to any one of them. Do you understand?”

  Khasar scowled at the Xi Xia soldier. “I understand that you want me to spend days without opening my mouth. I tell you, when this is over, you and I are going to go somewhere quiet—”

  “Hush!” Temuge said. “They are close enough to hear.”

  Khasar subsided, though he held Ho Sa’s gaze long enough to nod ominously at him.

  The boat maneuvered close to the bank and Ho Sa did not wait for his companions, stepping into the shallow water and wading out to it. He ignored Khasar’s muttered curse behind him as strong hands drew him over the side.

  The master of the boat was a short, wiry man with a red cloth tied around his head to keep the sweat from his eyes. Apart from that, he was naked except for a brown loincloth with two knives slapping against his bare thigh. Ho Sa wondered for an instant if they had been taken in by one of the pirate crews said to raid villages along the river, but it was too late for misgivings.

  “Can you pay?” the master demanded, reaching out to slap Ho Sa on the chest with the back of his hand. As Khasar and Temuge were dragged on board, Ho Sa pressed three warm bronze coins into the outstretched palm. The little man peered through the hole in the center of each one, before stringing them on a cord under his belt.

  “I am Chen Yi,” he said, staring as Khasar straightened. The Mongol was a head taller than the largest crewman and frowned around him as if affronted. Ho Sa cleared his throat and Chen Yi glanced at him, cocking his head to one side.

  “We are going as far as Shizuishan,” Chen Yi said. Ho Sa shook his head and reached for more coins. Chen Yi watched closely as he heard the sound of metal.

  “Three more to take us to Baotou,” Ho Sa said, holding them out.

  The captain took the coins quickly, adding them to the line at his waist with practiced skill.

  “Three more to go so far upriver,” he said. Ho Sa struggled to master his temper. He had already paid more than enough for a passage to the city. He doubted the man would return the money if he decided to wait for another boat.

  “You have had enough,” he said firmly. Chen Yi’s eyes dropped to where Ho Sa kept his money under his belt and he shrugged.

  “Three more or I have you thrown back,” he said.

  Ho Sa stood very still and sensed Khasar’s irritable confusion as the conversation went on. At any moment, he would blurt out some question, Ho Sa was certain.

  “Where will you find yourself next on the wheel of life, I wonder?” Ho Sa murmured. To his surprise, Chen Yi seemed unconcerned and only shrugged. Ho Sa shook his head in bewilderment. Perhaps he was too used to the army, where his authority was never challenged. There was an air of confidence about Chen Yi that sat oddly with his rags and the grubby little boat. Ho Sa glared as he handed over more coins.

  “Beggars do not go to Baotou,” Chen Yi said cheerfully. “Now stay out of the way of my men while we work the river.” He indicated a pile of grain sacks in the stern of the little boat by the rudder, and Ho Sa saw Khasar settling himself on them before he could nod.

  Chen Yi cast a suspicious glance at Temuge and Khasar, but he had new coins on his cord, which jingled as he moved. He gave orders to turn the sail across the wind, making the first cut across the river that would take them north to their destination. The boat was cramped with so many and there were no cabins. Ho Sa guessed the crew lay down on the deck at night. He began to relax just as Khasar stepped up to the rail and urinated into the river with a great sigh of relief. Ho Sa raised his eyes to heaven as the sound of spattering water went on and on.

  Two of the crew pointed at Khasar and made an obscene joke, slapping each other on the back with hoots of laughter. Khasar flushed and Ho Sa moved swiftly to stand between the warrior and the crew, warning him with a glare. The sailors watched the exchange with wide grins before Chen Yi barked an order and they scurried to the prow to heave the sail over.

  “Yellow dogs,” Khasar said after them. Chen Yi had been in the middle of guiding the sail over his head when he heard the words. Ho Sa’s heart sank as t
he master of the boat came strolling back to them.

  “What was that he said?” Chen Yi asked.

  Ho Sa spoke quickly. “He is a Moslem. He does not speak a civilized tongue. Who can understand the ways of such a people?”

  “He does not look like a Moslem,” Chen Yi replied. “Where is his beard?”

  Ho Sa sensed the eyes of the crew on them and this time each man rested a hand near his knife. “All merchants have secrets,” Ho Sa said, holding Chen Yi’s stare. “Do I care for a man’s beard when I have his wealth to trade? Silver speaks its own language, does it not?”

  Chen Yi grinned. He held out a hand and Ho Sa pressed a silver coin into it, his face showing nothing.

  “It does,” Chen Yi said, wondering how many more coins the warrior carried in his pouches. Whatever the three men claimed to be, they were not merchants. Chen Yi indicated Khasar with a jerk of a grimy thumb.

  “Is he a fool, then, to trust you? Will you be throwing him over the side one night with a dagger across his throat?” To Ho Sa’s discomfort, the little man drew his finger over his own throat, a gesture that Khasar watched with growing interest. Temuge, too, was frowning and Ho Sa wondered how much he had understood of the fast exchange.

  “I betray no man, once I have given my word,” Ho Sa told the master quickly, as much for Temuge as anyone else. “And though he is certainly a fool, he is a fighter of great skill. Be careful not to insult him, or I will not be able to hold him back.”

  Chen Yi cocked his head again, a habitual gesture. He did not trust the men he had taken on board, and the tall, stupid one seemed to burn with anger. He shrugged at last. All men slept, and if they caused him trouble, they would not be the first passengers he had slipped into the wake of his little boat. He turned his back on them after pointing to the pile of sacks. Relieved beyond words, Ho Sa joined the other two in the stern. He tried hard to look as if the incident had not been a strain.

  Khasar did not look at all apologetic.

  “What did you tell him?” he asked.

  Ho Sa took a deep breath. “I told him you are a traveler from thousands of miles away. I thought perhaps he would never have heard of the followers of Islam, but he has met at least one in the past. He thinks I am lying, but he will not ask too any questions. Still, it explains why you cannot speak the Chin language.”

  Khasar let out a breath, satisfied. “So I am not a mute, then,” he said, pleased. “I did not think I could keep that up.” He settled himself back on the sacks, nudging Temuge out of the way to find a comfortable position. As the boat drifted upriver, Khasar closed his eyes and Ho Sa thought he had gone to sleep.

  “Why did he draw his finger across his throat?” Khasar said without opening his eyes.

  “He wanted to know if I intended to kill you and throw you over-board,” Ho Sa snapped. “The idea had occurred to me.”

  Khasar chuckled. “I am beginning to like that little man,” he said drowsily. “I am glad we took a boat.”

  Genghis walked through the vast camp in the shadow of mountains he had known as a boy. Snow had fallen in the night and he took a deep breath of the chilled air, enjoying the way it filled his lungs. He could hear the whinnying of mares calling to their mates, and in the distance, someone was singing a child to sleep. With the families around him, he was at peace and his mood was light. It was easy to remember the days when his father still lived and he and his brothers knew nothing of the world around them. He shook his head in the gloom as he considered the lands that had been shown to him. The sea of grass was larger than he had ever realized, and part of him hungered to see new things, even the cities of the Chin. He was young and strong and ruled a vast army of men with the skills to take what they wanted. He smiled to himself as he reached the ger he had built for his second wife, Chakahai. His father had been content with his mother, it was true, but Yesugei had been khan of a small tribe and not had beautiful women offered to him in tribute.

  Genghis ducked his head as he entered. Chakahai was waiting for him and her eyes were wide and dark in the glow from a single lamp. Genghis said nothing as she rose to greet him. He did not know how she had procured two young girls from her own people to serve her. Presumably they had been captured by his warriors and she had bought or bargained for them. As they slipped out of the ger, Genghis could smell the perfume they wore and he shuddered slightly as one of them brushed silk past his bare arms. He heard their whispering voices dwindle into the distance, and he was alone.

  Chakahai stood proudly before him, her head raised. The first weeks with the tribes had been hard for her, but he had sensed a fine spirit in her flashing eyes long before she had learned the first words of his people. She walked as he would have expected a king’s daughter to walk, and the sight of her always aroused him. It was a strange thing, but her perfect posture was the greatest part of her beauty.

  She smiled as his gaze traveled over her, knowing she had his full attention. Choosing her moment, she knelt before him, bowing her head and then glancing up to see if he still watched the display of humility. He laughed at that and took a wrist to raise her up once more, lifting her into the air to lay her down on the bed.

  He held her head in both hands as he kissed her then, his fingers lost in her black hair. She moaned into his mouth and he felt her hands lightly touching his thighs and waist, exciting him. The night was warm and he did not mind waiting while she opened up her silk tunic and revealed whiteness down to a flat belly and the silk belt and trousers she wore like a man. She gasped as he kissed her breasts and bit softly. The rest of the clothes followed swiftly after that and the camp drowsed around them as he took a princess of the Xi Xia, her cries echoing far in the gloom.

  CHAPTER 11

  IT TOOK A WEEK for Chen Yi’s boat to reach Shizuishan on the western bank of the river. The days were gray and cold and the siltladen water darkened until it deserved its name, curling creamily under the prow. For a time, a family of dolphins had stayed with them, before Khasar struck one with an oar in his excitement and they vanished as quickly as they had come. Ho Sa had formed his own opinions of the little boat master, and he suspected the hold was stuffed with untaxed goods, perhaps even luxuries that would fetch high prices for the owner. He had no opportunity to test his suspicions, as the crew never seemed to tire of watching the passengers. It was likely that they were in the employ of a wealthy merchant and should not have risked the cargo by taking passengers. Ho Sa judged Chen Yi was an experienced man who seemed to know the river far better than the emperor’s tax collectors. More than once they had taken a tributary off the main route, looping far around before returning to it. On the last of these occasions, Ho Sa had seen the dim shadow of an official barge in midstream behind them. The tactic suited his needs and he did not comment on the loss of time, though he slept with his knife in his sleeve and then only lightly, waking at the slightest sound.

  Khasar snored at astonishing volume. To Ho Sa’s irritation, the crew seemed to like him and had already taught him phrases that would have little use outside a dockyard whorehouse. He swallowed his anger as Khasar arm-wrestled three of the burlier sailors, winning a skin of fiery rice wine which he then refused to share.

  Of the three of them, it was Temuge who seemed to take no pleasure at all from the peaceful journey. Though the river was rarely choppy, he had vomited over the side on the second morning, earning hoots of derision from the crew. Mosquitoes found him at night so that he had a new crop of red bites on his ankles each morning. He watched Khasar’s cheerful camaraderie with a tight expression of disapproval, but made no attempt to join in, despite his greater command of the language. Ho Sa could only wish the journey was at an end, but Shizuishan was merely a stopping point to replenish their supplies.

  Long before the city came into view, the river grew crowded with small boats crossing from bank to bank and carrying with them the gossip and news of a thousand miles. Chen Yi did not seek anyone out, but as he tied up at a wooden post near the do
cks, boat after boat came close to exchange words with him. Ho Sa realized the little man was well known on the river. More than a few questions were called about the passengers, and Ho Sa endured their stares. No doubt their descriptions would race the length of the river before they even saw Baotou. He began to consider the entire enterprise doomed, and it did not help to see Khasar standing on the prow and shouting foul insults at other captains. In different circumstances, it might have earned him a beating or even a knife in his throat, but Chen Yi roared with laughter and something about Khasar’s expression seemed not to give offense. Instead they replied with worse and Khasar traded a couple of coins for fresh fruit and fish before the sun set. Ho Sa watched in glowering silence, punching a grain bag to make a depression for his head as he tried to find sleep.

  Temuge awoke as something bumped against the side of the boat. The night air was thick with insects and he was heavy with sleep. He stirred drowsily, calling out a question to Ho Sa. There was no reply and when Temuge raised his head, he saw Ho Sa and his brother were awake and staring into the blackness.

  “What is happening?” Temuge whispered. He could hear creaking, and muffled sounds of movement, but the moon had yet to rise and he realized he could only have been asleep for a short time.

  Light shone out without warning as one of the crew removed the shutters from a tiny oil lamp on the prow. Temuge saw the man’s arm lit in gold, then the night erupted in shouts and confusion. Khasar and Ho Sa vanished into the gloom and Temuge rose to his feet, rooted in fear. Dark bodies crashed into the boat, coming over the sides. He scrabbled for his knife, hunching down behind the sacks so they could not see him.

  A cry of pain sounded somewhere near and Temuge cursed aloud, convinced they had been discovered by Imperial soldiers. He heard Chen Yi shouting orders and all around were the grunts and gasps of men struggling with each other in near-total darkness. Temuge crouched lower, waiting to be attacked. As he strained his eyes he saw the tiny golden lamp swing up into the air, leaving a trail that remained in his vision. Instead of hissing into the river, he heard it thump onto wood. The oil spilled in a bloom of light and Temuge gasped in fear.