Lian bowed. “Yes, Master Chucai.” She brushed past him, hurrying to be out of his presence.
He caught her arm as she passed and brought her up short. His stare was indomitable, and she looked away, trying to hide from his gaze. “I’m sure young Gansukh is in no danger,” he said, and when she blushed at having her heart read so plainly, he released her.
She fled back to her room, neglecting to bring any of the other ladies with her. All she wanted was to hide from the fact that he might be right: that Gansukh was safe and that she cared at all.
There was no time to stop and explain. Gansukh slowed as he came to the outer wall of the palace, and he tried to quiet his breathing and listen for some sign of where the assassin had gone. The effort seemed futile, as the shouting and thrashing of the Khevtuul in the garden made it nearly impossible to hear any subtle sound, but he was rewarded with a scraping noise, followed by a grunt.
He had missed it at first, looking for the wrong thing. Not far ahead, wriggling against the wall like a black snake, was a knotted rope. He ran over and pulled it taut. There was some weight near the other end, and when he looked up, he could see the dark shape of the assassin as the man neared the top of the wall.
He chided himself for not bringing his sword and bow with him. But he hadn’t realized the meeting with Lian was meant to be a martial one. He had thought…
Gansukh pushed those thoughts aside as he started up the rope. However the assassin had anchored it to the top of the wall, Gansukh hoped his weight would be enough to make the man not tarry and release the rope. The fall wouldn’t kill him, but following the assassin up the rope was the only way he could hope to keep up. It would take too much time to race around through the north gate—longer if the guards continued to confuse him for another intruder.
The assassin didn’t stop, and by the time Gansukh reached the top of the wall, the dark-robed figure was gone.
Arrows bounced off the wall around him, and Gansukh didn’t wait for the archers to correct their aim. He leaped off the wall, landing and tumbling in a clumsy roll. He banged his left shoulder against the ground and ignored the flare of pain as he scrambled to his feet.
Which way? He was in a back alley behind one of the long buildings the Khagan used to store his possessions, and there were no doors or windows on this side. North or south? To the south lay the front gates of the palace and the large staging grounds at the head of the paved road that stretched through the main part of Karakorum. If the assassin were trying to disappear into the teeming chaos of the city, that would certainly be the route to take.
Gansukh hesitated. Going to ground didn’t seem like the right choice. In that case, the prey counted on the hunter losing interest. But for an assassin who had just killed the Khagan? The hunt would never stop, and the only hope the man had for survival was to run as far as he could—as fast as he could. Trying to escape through a city of tents would take too long.
To the west and north of the palace were a number of gates out of the city. Most of them were crowded during the day with shepherds and goat herders trying to sell their animals, but at night the markets should be empty.
A woman screamed somewhere beyond the storehouse, and Gansukh’s decision was made for him. He sprinted to his left, and when he reached the corner of the building, he spotted a small Chinese courtesan dressed in blue silk sprawled on her back in the middle of the street beyond. She was hurling curses at a swiftly moving figure.
“Stop! Intruder!” The northern guardhouse was behind him, and Gansukh ducked around the corner of the building as the guards on the elevated platform started shooting arrows.
It probably would have been wiser for him to wait for the Khevtuul to catch up, identify himself, and join with them in their pursuit of the assassin instead of being mistaken for the assassin’s accomplice. Gansukh stared at the receding figure of the assassin as he raced down the empty street toward the market gate. It would be wiser…
Muttering a half plea/half curse to the Blue Wolf, Gansukh sprinted after his quarry.
CHAPTER 13:
WEST MEETS EAST
“I don’t mean to distract you from what is most important…” said Brother Rutger as he poised the helm above Haakon’s head.