The Tiger Queens (25 page)

The idea came to me at midnight a few nights later, a time when restless spirits roamed the winds, looking for sleepless souls to torment. I should have known better than to trust a plan born of meddling shades.

Ala-Qush was gone again, seeing to the border patrols the Onggud had maintained for centuries. I’d thought to invite myself along, but the idea of spending a week with my husband sounded as enjoyable as having a rotten tooth removed. I’d already been rebuffed when I sent him a paper envelope stuffed with powdered gingerroot from Olon Süme’s market. Shigi recalled that Toregene had once boiled the herb into a tea for him to alleviate a terrible headache. I felt an emptiness in my heart when I thought of Toregene and Sorkhokhtani, for without any messengers, it was impossible to know how they fared. “I miss them, too,” Shigi assured me, and that night we poured a bowl of milk into the earth in a prayer for their health and happiness. Shigi, Toregene, and Sorkhokhtani didn’t share the blood in my veins, but sometimes it seemed that they were more my kin than the brothers who’d been born from my mother’s womb. I noted the way Shigi’s eyes grew distant when my sisters and our home were mentioned, the way he seemed to retreat within himself as if pulling memories around his shoulders.

Still, although Shigi might not return home for several years, it was difficult for me to muster much pity for him, knowing that I might never see my family or former home again. And so I would continue to attempt to ingratiate myself with the Onggud and my husband.

Regardless of the efficacy of Toregene’s herbs, Ala-Qush’s messenger returned the package with a sniff of disdain.

“Ala-Qush, Prince of Beiping, does not require your dried weeds,” he said, dropping the rumpled envelope in my hand before turning on his heel and stomping off.

Fine. Let the demon in my husband’s head devour his skull for all I cared.

Now that Ala-Qush was gone, I planned a dinner for his children, masking the command that they attend in a polite invitation. I’d face them alone, although Shigi protested when I ordered him to leave for the evening.

“The Khan will never forgive me if something happens to you,” he said, planting his feet while I worked to close the smoke hole against the night air. Two long-nosed dogs lay at Shigi’s feet—Olon Süme was full of the
flea-riddled beasts and I’d made the mistake of feeding these mangy specimens. My father had always hated dogs, so there were few in our camp when I was growing up, but I didn’t have the heart to kick these ones away. It was quite likely they’d end up my only companions once Shigi left.

“I’m sharing dinner with children,” I scoffed. “The worst they might do is spit in my food.”

“Jingue is a grown man, not a child.”

“It will be difficult for my husband’s eldest to eat with us when he’s not even within the city walls.” I’d overheard Orbei tell Ala-Qush before he left that she expected Jingue to return over the coming days. She claimed to be toiling over a homecoming gift for her eldest son, likely another camlet robe, or perhaps a winter hat made from the stuff. I was heartily sick of camlet, the constant smell of camels, Onggud wine, and everything else that reminded me of this miserable new life of mine.

“You need to leave your tent more.” Shigi fingered a gold hoop at his ear. “Jingue arrived this afternoon.”

“What?” My arms fell to my sides. “And you’re only telling me this now?”

Without Shigi and his ability to speak Turkic, I’d know little of what went on around me, a problem I sought to rectify by slogging through his lessons on how to speak the tongue-twisting language.

“He’s here, although I haven’t yet laid eyes on him.” He swatted away the dog nuzzling his leg. “And Jingue aside, Enebish is only a few years younger than you, and you’ve publicly insulted her mother.”

“I have my tiger sword if she threatens to kill me.” I gave a mischievous smile. “Or in case she throws a bowl of millet in my face.”

Shigi sighed, knowing better than to argue. “It would serve you right to get pelted with a bowl of that foul porridge they all love.”

I wrinkled my nose. The boiled millet I’d been served when the sun had risen this morning hadn’t been fit for a starving dog to eat. I knew, because I’d tried to feed it to the dogs, but they’d only growled at me.

A grinning Boyahoe and sulking Enebish entered my tent as the sun began to set, casting a glow of the softest gold on the walls of my
ger
. At first I thought perhaps Jingue had managed to avoid me yet again, but then a man dressed in a thick brown
deel
with close-cropped hair and a single
braid down his back ducked inside. He was my age, perhaps a winter younger, with a narrow jaw and deep-set eyes. Unlike most men, he wore no sword, beard, or mustache, yet his bearing was regal. This was the heir I still hoped to supplant with my own sons, the man who would become Olon Süme’s future Prince of Beiping if I failed.

I stepped forward, my hands tucked inside my sleeves. “You must be Jingue.”

“I am,” he said. His Mongolian was accented, but not unpleasantly so. His eyes flicked over me and I waited for him to speak again, or at least to bow, but he only crossed his arms, as defiant as his mother and sister.

“I see you share your family’s manners,” I said, giving him a false smile and taking some small satisfaction as his eyes widened. “Please,” I said, addressing his siblings and gesturing to the feast Shigi and I had set out. “Sit with me and eat.”

The Onggud delicacies of roasted bear paw, duck soup, and flat rice cakes pounded with bean sprouts awaited in golden bowls engraved with flowers and scrolls—a design Shigi had informed me was borrowed from the Tanghuts—along the low table. Only hooved animals should eat anything green, but the Onggud grew sprouts in their windows and sold them in the market, along with a foul assortment of sickly sweet melons, bushy stalks of celery that smelled like grass, and brown mushrooms with clods of earth clinging to their stems. I’d sooner starve than eat anything that grew from the dirt.

Boyahoe stepped forward first and sat on one of my mother’s rugs, offering a chipped-tooth grin from one big ear to the other until his sister slayed him with a glare. Enebish looked to Jingue, then slowly followed suit at his stiff nod. I plastered a gracious smile on my face.

“Do you have rice balls?” Boyahoe asked after he and his siblings had prayed over their food, thanking the god of the cross for the meal they were about to eat while I sat silently. My husband’s youngest son leaned forward with both hands on the table as he scanned the platters. His Mongolian was stilted but understandable. “Rice balls are my favorite.”

“I don’t think so.” I glanced at the spread of food, wishing I’d thought to send Shigi to learn all their favorites. It was too late now.

I worried at Toregene’s necklace against my throat, praying to her god and the Eternal Blue Sky to see me safely through this night without any mishaps on my part. Right now I’d welcome Enebish throwing a bowl of porridge and its opportunity to laugh with these hostile creatures my husband had spawned.

Jingue leaned forward, squinting as if nearsighted. “That emblem on your necklace,” he asked. “You worship Christ?”

My fingers stilled. “I respect the god of the cross,” I said, flustered by his question until I noticed a similar token at his throat. “As everyone should.”

Unconcerned with talk of gods, Boyahoe shoved his hair from his eyes and stuffed a hand into his pocket. “Yesterday I ate so many rice balls that I was sick, but my mother made more this afternoon.” He retrieved a ball glazed with what looked like honey and peppered with bits of wool lint from inside his
deel
. “Do you want to try it?”

“Boyahoe—,” Jingue began, but I held up a hand to silence him, forcing myself not to cringe at the lopsided ball and managing to smile instead.

“It’s thoughtful of you to share,” I said, taking the sticky treat from him and taking a bite off the corner, doing my best to avoid the biggest piece of lint.

Suddenly Jingue lunged forward and knocked the remainder of the rice ball from my hand. “For the love of Christ,” he yelled, his brows twisted in anger. “Don’t swallow it!”

I stared at Boyahoe, then at Enebish’s seething expression. A sudden burning on my tongue was followed by a burst of panic and a desperate roaring in my ears. I spit the half-chewed rice into my hand and dragged the back of my sleeve across my mouth. Horror clenched like a fist around my heart, and I shuddered at a sudden gust of cold air, as if death itself had brushed against me.

“It’s rolled in
gu
poison,” Jingue said. “Made from the toxins of a centipede and a scorpion after they’ve devoured each other. A single drop would be enough to make you ill; several would kill you.”

And the entire ball had been rolled in the concoction. This was the fulfillment of the warning of the dead marmot on my doorstep.

I gulped wine and swished it round my mouth, spitting into a clean cup and repeating the process several more times to be safe. My tongue still burned, but that was better than my entire body feeling the lick of invisible flames. “How did you know?” I managed to gasp.

Jingue grimaced, his eyes hooded. “My mother happily informed me of your impending death upon my arrival. She meant it as a gift.”

I almost laughed then, for the homecoming gift I’d overheard Orbei planning was no camlet hat or embroidered
deel
,
but my still-warm corpse.

Jingue and his family had much to gain from me frothing at the mouth and vomiting up my lifeblood, but I didn’t have time to ponder why he’d saved me. My tent door opened and Shigi burst inside, sword drawn. “Alaqai!” His chest heaved and he kept his blade tucked close to his body, ready to attack. “I heard yelling. Are you all right?”

“I’m still alive, despite Orbei’s best efforts.” I ignored his confusion and whirled on Boyahoe and Enebish then. “You both knew of this?”

Tears streamed down Boyahoe’s face and he stared up at me with eyes like brown river stones. “I didn’t know,” he whimpered. “My mother promised me a whole plate of rice balls if I gave it to you. She made me swear not to eat it and set Enebish to watch me to make sure I followed her directions.”

Because no one would suspect death delivered by a child with hair that fell constantly into his eyes.

Enebish remained silent, her insolent expression proving her guilt.

I looked to Shigi. “Bring Orbei to me.”

He hesitated but gave a curt nod when my eyes flicked to where my tiger sword lay on my bed, partially hidden under a camel-hair blanket. Enebish stood to follow him, but I blocked her path. “Don’t even think about it,” I said. “You don’t breathe unless I allow it.”

Her hands curled into fists and I thought she might challenge me, but she resumed her place next to Boyahoe. A stifling silence filled the
ger
. Dampness spread under my arms and a strange kind of singing filled my ears, drowning out all other thoughts.

I could do this. I
would
do this.

Shigi reentered the tent, prodding a scowling Orbei before him. Her
stiff-backed carriage reminded me of another woman, although that was where the similarities between Orbei and my mother ended.

“I understand you sent Boyahoe with a gift for me tonight,” I said, keeping my voice level, as if discussing the quality of the lambs this year.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” Orbei’s children drew closer to her, like soldiers to their general.

“Don’t play coy,” I chided. “It doesn’t fit a woman who dabbles in poison and murder.”

“You poor girl,” she said, her voice practically a purr. “I fear you must be addled as well as the daughter of a rampaging murderer.”

“You sent Boyahoe here to poison me,” I said, my voice rising.

She shrugged. “If I did, it would be a death you deserved.”

“Perhaps, but I didn’t die,” I reminded her. “And in return, you’ll receive only what you deserve. From this night on, you are childless, a barren spinster. No one will ever call you Mother, just as no one shall care for you in your old age.”

It was the second time I’d wagered against Orbei, and I wondered whether it would be the last.

She gave a sharp inhale and glanced at me. “You won’t lay a filthy finger on my children—”

“
My
children,” I corrected her. “You forfeited your privilege as a mother tonight. You will return to the family of your birth. You shall approach the Great House only with my express permission.”

I’d banish her to the Great Dry Sea if I could, but I knew my husband would never stand for that. There was a general outcry behind me, but I twisted Orbei’s arm behind her back, surprised at her frailty. “Agree,” I whispered in her ear, “else I’ll slaughter your children one by one and send the bloody pieces of their bodies to you in carved golden boxes.”

She craned her neck to search my eyes, as if seeking out the lie in my boast. I didn’t know myself if I told the truth or not, but she needn’t know that.

“It’s your choice,” I whispered amidst the cacophony of Enebish’s yelling and the dogs’ howling. Only Jingue remained stonily silent. “Tell
them to do as I say and then leave the way you came. Otherwise, I can guarantee this will be the last time you’ll see them whole.”

“You filthy Mongol whore,” Orbei hissed. “Ala-Qush will never stand for this.”

“But he’s not here now, is he?” I turned so my back faced the children. “I have more blades than you can count hidden in this
ger
,” I lied. “And I won’t hesitate to use them on your children.”

The fire in her eyes banked and her body slackened. We both knew she had lost.

She stepped back, brushing her
deel
where I’d touched her, as if contaminated. “Our esteemed
beki
is your new mother,” she said, her voice rising over the melee to silence Enebish and Boyahoe. “As such, you must forget your old mother. It is in all our best interests to obey the
beki
in this, as in all things.”

I gave a minute nod. Her words were scarcely sincere, but they would suffice.

Enebish muttered something to Boyahoe, sullen but obedient. I was suddenly glad they were younger, lest I have a rebellion on my hands.