The Mongoliad Book Three

I will take four arban, he decided. Two would be his strongest guards, including the new Torguud captain. The other group of men would mostly be trackers, including both Chagatai’s envoy and Alchiq. One cook, Master Chucai, and the shaman would make up the remainder of his hunting party.

 

He would have preferred to leave Master Chucai behind. His advisor was beginning to annoy him again and, much like the previous time when their relationship had become antagonistic, ?gedei knew Chucai’s mood would only improve when the Khagan’s drinking lessened. Of course, knowing this only made him want to drink more, and it would be so easy to lay the blame for his drunkenness at Master Chucai’s feet. But it wouldn’t change anything. Chucai would still be an arrogant son of a whore, and ?gedei would still thirst for wine.

 

The previous night he had dreamed that the Great Bear had eaten Chucai. He had been greatly refreshed when he had woken. Why couldn’t he have that dream every night?

 

The guard, Alagh, ducked into the ger and bowed to the Khagan. “My Khan.”

 

“What is it?” ?gedei asked with a sigh. He could guess. I think of him and he appears.

 

“Master Chucai asked that I tell you the hunting party is ready. The day of your great hunt has finally come.”

 

“He couldn’t come tell me himself?”

 

“My Khan?” Alagh was flustered and mildly frightened by the question.

 

?gedei grunted and waved, dismissing the guard, who quickly fled from the ger. ?gedei picked at the leavings on his plate, dawdling a few moments longer. I should reassign that one, he thought, staring at the entrance of his ger. Alagh was one of the pair who had guarded him the night of the Chinese raid, and of the two he was the more skittish. Like a young colt, recently born. Both overly curious and easily frightened. Once, he would have enjoyed having men like that around him. They tended to be eager to please. He recalled his new Torguud captain’s dispatch of the blond-haired fighter—quick and efficient. The difference was that Namkhai expected more of him as Khagan—he could read the desire quite readily in the wrestler’s face.

 

?gedei looked at his hands. I will kill the Great Bear, he thought. I will be worthy of my father’s legacy once more.

 

His hands shook only a little bit.

 

 

 

 

 

Jachin could not decide on which scarf to wear. She had woken well before dawn to get ready for the momentous day. The Khagan would be leaving the camp, and Second Wife could not be happier. Soon their endless exile from Karakorum would be over. She had been giddily happy as she had ordered her servants to prepare her finest outfit.

 

Of course, such delight had given way to irritation: her servants hadn’t packed the right clothes. Some of her coats were too wrinkled. Her handmaidens had forgotten that she preferred to have her hair back over her left ear, not her right. None of her scents had the right floral note—they had all gone rancid overnight.

 

And finally, it was time to choose a scarf, and Lian could not suffer Jachin’s frenetic nervousness any longer. As Second Wife shrieked at her servants, threatening to tear all of her clothes off—Do you want me to stand naked before the Khagan?—Lian slipped out of Jachin’s ger.

 

The morning sun had warmed the valley enough to drive off the limpid fog, though many of the banners still gleamed wetly. The ground was damp, and she could feel the chill of the approaching winter through the thin soles of her shoes. The weather had been pleasant the last few days, but the nights got very cold. She skipped lightly as she walked through the camp.

 

Outside the Khagan’s wheeled ger the hunting party was gathering. The Torguud, in their finest armor, were fussing with their saddles. The Darkhat guides stood in a clump, stoic as ever. A tiny man, covered with tassels and bells and bits of metal and bone, was hand-feeding the smallest pony she had ever seen. She spied Master Chucai moving through the ranks of the Torguud, and he caught sight of her but gave no indication of pleasure or displeasure at her presence. And, over by the fire pits, she spotted Gansukh and a gray-haired man.

 

Sparing one more glance in Chucai’s direction, she hurried over to the pair. “You... you are going on the hunt?” she asked.

 

“It was not my—” Gansukh said. He glanced at his companion briefly and then took her by the arm and led her a few paces away. He stood so that his body was shielding her from the company being assembled. “It was not my idea,” he apologized, “though I should have known it was going to happen. What the Khagan wants...”

 

She was more flustered about this than she had expected to be, and she flushed as she realized how badly this news was affecting her. “Did you...?”

 

He shook his head. “Stay with Second Wife,” he said cryptically. “I will finish that matter when I return.”

 

“What matter?” she asked.

 

Neal Stephenson & Erik Bear & Greg Bear & Joseph Brassey & Nicole Galland & Cooper Moo & Mark Teppo's books