Bones of the Hills (41 page)

Kokchu was sweating profusely and drank more than Genghis and Khasar together. He too was not used to riding broken ground, but he did not complain while Hoelun remained silent, knowing it could only shame him in the eyes of the khan. He had no idea why he had been called to attend Genghis, though as he looked up and saw the snow line of the peaks, he knew the spirits were strong in high places. The Mongols were never truly content in hot lands, where flies and sweat and strange rashes assailed them and rotted clean flesh. In the clean air of the mountains, Kokchu knew they would feel more at home. Perhaps he had been called to intercede for Genghis there.

They climbed a ridge until the sun hung low in the west, casting long shadows before them as if they walked on darkness. The going was hard, but the horses walked with sure steps, following Genghis on the spine of the ridge. It was rarely steep enough to force them to dismount. They had led the horses only twice that day, and the grim silence seemed to have seeped into them all, so that their throats and dry lips would find it hard to speak again.

The dark mood did not survive reaching the snow line, at least for Temuge, Khasar, and Kachiun. They had not seen snow since leaving
the mountains of their home, and they sucked in the cold air, enjoying the way it bit deeply into them.

Genghis did not seem to feel it, or hear the way the hoof sounds changed to the muted trudge of snow. The peak of the ridge was still ahead. He fixed his gaze on it and did not even look down to the vast lands revealed from that height.

The long, tiring day was ending as he reined in at last. The sun was half hidden on the western horizon, and the golden light struggled with shadows, so that they had to squint as they dismounted. Khasar helped his mother down and passed a skin of airag to her, which she accepted gratefully. The hard spirit brought a little life back to her exhausted face, but she shivered as she stood there, looking around in bewilderment. They could see the smudge of Samarkand across the farmland and even further, to a bright line of the lakes in the north. It seemed as if she might see all the way to home, and the thought brought tears to her eyes.

Genghis drew his sword and the sibilant sound had every eye on him. He too felt the comfort of the snow. In the high places, it was easier to feel the breath of the sky father and the whispering presence of spirits. Even in such a distant land, he felt them on his skin. Though the feeling eased him, it hardly touched the hard lump of rage in his chest that had ached for many days.

“Stand before me, Kokchu,” he said, watching the shaman closely as he approached. Kokchu’s expression was wary and a line of sweat shone on his high scalp, but Genghis could see the gleam of something else in his eyes. The wind grew suddenly as the brothers gathered with their mother around Genghis, scattering a dusting of snow across them.

Genghis did not take his gaze off the shaman as he spoke to his brothers and Hoelun.

“This is the man who killed Temulun, not one of the Shah’s guards. He is the one.”

Kokchu might have leapt back had Khasar not been standing behind him.

“That is a lie!” the shaman spat. “You know it is.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Genghis said. He was ready for Kokchu to attack or flee, with every nerve straining as he spoke. “My sister’s body wasn’t found until dark and that man came straight to me. Yet you were seen coming out of her ger long before that.”

“More lies! My lord khan, someone is trying to destroy me. There
are those who think you show me too much trust, that you favor me too openly. I have many enemies, lord,
please…
”

Temuge spoke suddenly and Kokchu turned to him in desperate hope.

“He could be right, brother,” Temuge said. “Who can say which ger they saw him at when the fires were burning in the camp?”

Kokchu fell to his knees, his clawlike hands shaking as they grabbed handfuls of snow.

“It is true what he says, lord. I have given you everything, gers, horses, salt, and blood,
everything.
This is all wrong.”

“No,” Genghis muttered. “It is not.” The shaman turned up his face in terror as he saw the khan’s sword lift into the air.

“You may not shed the blood of a shaman, lord. It is forbidden!”

He did not turn in time to see Hoelun smash her hand across his face. The blow was weak, but Kokchu cried out as he fell backwards in the snow. As he came up against Khasar’s feet, the general lashed out without thought, kicking him hard in the ribs.

Genghis stood very still and his family turned to him questioningly as he let the sword fall at his side.

“You cannot let him live, Temujin,” Hoelun said, her eyes brighter than he had seen them that day. Some of her old vitality had returned at the sight of the shaman struggling on that cold peak, and she did not seem to feel the wind any longer. Genghis handed her the sword and held her wrist when he thought she might lash out with it.

He flexed his empty hands for a moment and Kokchu cowered before him, trapped between the legs of the family he had served. His mind spun crazily as he looked for fresh words. Temuge’s foolish face was full of doubt and weakness, and even the khan had put aside his sword. There was still hope.

“I have done nothing, lord. Whoever told you made a mistake and it must not cost me my life, or my service to you. If I die here, ill luck will follow you to the end of your days. You
know
I speak the truth.”

Genghis reached down and took him by the shoulders in a terrible grip. For an instant, Kochu thought he was being raised to his feet and gasped in relief. Then he felt Genghis shift his grip to a bony leg, the hard fingers cupping his knee and digging into the flesh. The shaman struggled wildly as Genghis lifted him with a grunt.

“
Please,
my lord, I am innocent!” Kokchu yelled.

Genghis lifted the shaman higher, then dropped him, falling to one knee as he did so. Kokchu struck the khan’s outstretched thigh cleanly.
They all heard the spine crack and Kokchu’s mouth opened soundlessly. His legs fell limp and his hands scrabbled in the snow and the sun’s fading light. Temuge turned away then, sickened, but Kachiun and Khasar stared as if they were determined to remember every detail.

Genghis knelt at the shaman’s side, speaking softly.

“There are wolves in these mountains,” he said. “Some of my men have hunted them for skins. They will find you here tonight and at first they will only watch. As the cold makes you weak, they will come closer and begin to nuzzle your legs and hands. They’ll scatter when you call out and move, but they won’t go far and they’ll come back with more courage. When they start to tear your flesh, when the smell of blood excites them, think of me then.”

He stood and the shaman’s wild eyes followed his movement, blurred in tears. His mouth hung open, revealing brown teeth. He saw Hoelun put an arm around Genghis and squeeze his shoulder as they turned back to the horses. Kokchu could not hear the words the family exchanged. He had never known such pain and all the tricks and rituals he knew crumbled before the flame that lanced through him.

The darkness came quickly after that and he moaned as he found his legs were useless. Once, he pushed himself almost to a sitting position, but the wave of fresh agony stole his senses away. When he awoke again, the moon was up and he could hear the soft crunch of paws on the snow.

AS THE SUMMER ENDED
, Genghis remained in Samarkand, though his generals roared through the region in his name. The cities of Merv, Nishapur, Balkh, and Urganj fell in quick succession, the populations slaughtered or enslaved. Even the news of the Shah’s death and the return of Tsubodai and Jebe did little to raise his spirits. He wanted to return home to the plains he had known as a boy, but dismissed the urge as weakness. It was his task now to train Ogedai to lead, to pass on everything he had learned as khan in decades of war. He had repaid the Shah’s insults a thousand times, but in the process discovered lands as vast as any he had ever known.

He found himself as a wolf let loose in a sheepfold, and he could not simply take the nation home. Ogedai would rule his people, but there were other thrones. With new energy, Genghis walked the Shah’s palace and city, learning everything he could about how such a place supported its people.

Temuge brought new maps to him as they were captured or drawn by prisoners. Each one revealed more and more of the land around Samarkand and the shape of the world itself. Genghis could hardly believe there were such vast mountains to the south that no man had ever climbed them and the air was said to be thin enough to kill. He heard
of strange beasts and Indian princes who would make the Shah of Khwarezm look like a local governor.

The people of Samarkand had been freed to return to their homes for the most part. In other places, Genghis allowed the young warriors to practice sword blows on bound prisoners. There was no better way to demonstrate the damage a sword could do, and it helped prepare them for real battles. In Samarkand, the streets were choked with people, though they stayed out of his way as he walked with guards and maps. His curiosity was insatiable, but when he returned to the palace each night, he could feel it close on him like a tomb until he could hardly breathe. He had sent a scout into the mountains to where Kokchu had been left. The warrior had brought back a package of splintered bones, and Genghis had burned them in a brazier. Even that had not brought him peace. The stone walls of the palace seemed to mock ambitions built on men and horses. When Ogedai was khan, what would it matter if his father had once taken a city or left it intact? Genghis practiced each day with a sword, working himself to a sweat in the mornings against the best of his guard. It depressed him how much speed he had lost with the years. His stamina was still the match for younger men, but his right knee ached after a bout and his eyes were not as sharp over distance as they had been.

On a morning that held the first breath of winter, in his fourth year in Khwarezm, Genghis rested with his hands on his knees, having fought a young warrior to a standstill.

“If he comes at you now, you are dead, old friend. Always leave something, if you can.”

Genghis looked up in surprise, then smiled slowly at the sight of the wiry old man on the edge of the training ground. Arslan was darkly tanned and as thin as a stick, but the sight of him was a pleasure Genghis had not expected again.

The khan cast a glance at his opponent, who stood barely breathing hard, his sword ready.

“I am hoping to surprise this young tiger when he turns his back,” he said. “It is good to see you. I thought you might have been content to stay with your wife and goats.”

Arslan nodded. “The goats were killed by wolves. I am no herdsman, it seems.” He stepped onto the stone square and took Genghis’s arm in a familiar grip, his eyes weighing the changes in the khan.

Genghis saw that the old general was marked with thick dust from months of riding. He pressed his grip tighter, showing his pleasure.

“Eat with me tonight. I want to hear about the plains of home.”

Arslan shrugged. “They are the same. From west to east, Chin merchants do not dare cross your land without asking permission from one of the road stations. There is peace there, though there are fools who say you will not return, that the Shah’s armies are too much even for you.” Arslan smiled at the memory of a Xi Xia merchant and how he had laughed in his face. Genghis was a hard man to kill and always had been.

“I want to hear it all. I will invite Jelme to eat with us,” Genghis said.

Arslan brightened at word of his son.

“I would like to see him,” he replied. “And there are grandchildren I have not seen.”

Genghis winced slightly. Tolui’s wife had given birth to her second son within a few months of Chagatai’s firstborn. He was a grandfather three times over, though part of him was not at all thrilled at the idea.

“My sons are fathers now,” he said. “Even little Tolui has two baby boys in his ger.”

Arslan smiled, understanding Genghis better than he knew.

“The line must go on, my friend. They too will be khans one day. What did Tolui call them?”

Genghis shook his head, amused at Arslan’s fatherly interest.

“I named the first Mongke. Tolui called the second Kublai. They have my eyes.”

It was with an odd sense of pride that Genghis showed Samarkand to the man who would rule the city. Arslan was fascinated by the water system and the markets, with the intricate web of suppliers from a thousand miles all around. By then Genghis had discovered the gold mines that fed the Shah’s treasury. The original guards had all been killed and the mine looted by the time he realized its significance on the maps, but he had new men working and some of his brightest young warriors learning the process of taking gold and silver from the ground. That was one benefit of the city, he had found. It supported more men than the life he had known on the plains. Those men could be used to build other things, perhaps even greater.

“You will have to see the mine,” Genghis told Arslan. “They have dug into the ground like marmots and built great forges to separate the silver and gold from the rock. More than a thousand men dig and half
as many again crush the rock into powder. It is like a nest of ants, but from it comes the metal that makes this city run. Everything else works from that. At times, I feel I am very close to understanding how they came to have value. It feels like a thing built on lies and promises, but it works, somehow it does.”

Arslan nodded, watching Genghis rather than listening too closely to things he could not have cared less about. He had answered the call because he knew Genghis would not have summoned him without reason. He had yet to understand why the cities had suddenly become important to the younger man. For two days, he walked with Genghis through Samarkand, talking and taking note of the khan’s inner tension. Arslan’s wife had been given a suite of rooms in the palace and seemed entranced with the great baths and Chin slaves Genghis had procured for her. It interested Arslan to note that neither of Genghis’s wives had left the camp of gers outside the city.