Authors: Conn Iggulden
Ho Sa saw they were all smiling then, amused at his appalled expression.
“Or I will kill you now and ask for another from your king,” Genghis said softly. “A man must always have the final choice in life and in death. Anything else can be taken from him, but never that.”
Ho Sa remembered how his companions had been killed for the horses they rode, and he did not doubt his life hung on a single word.
“I am bound to you by my king’s order,” he said at last.
Genghis grunted, turning back to the map. “Then tell me of Baotou and its walls. Tell me everything you have heard or seen.”
The camp was quiet at dawn, but the light still flickered gold in the ger of the khan, and those who lay close on the cold grass could hear the murmur of voices like the distant drums of war.
CHAPTER 10
T
HE THREE RIDERS APPROACHED THE EDGE
of the dark river, dismounting as their ponies began to drink. A heavy moon hung low above the hills, casting a gray light that illuminated the expanse of water. It was bright enough to create black shadows behind the men as they gazed out at the shapes of small boats at anchor, rocking and creaking in the night.
Khasar pulled a linen bag from where it sat under his saddle. The day’s ride had softened the meat inside, and he dipped his hand into the fibrous mush, pulling a piece of it out and putting it in his mouth. It smelled rancid, but he was hungry and chewed idly as he watched his companions. Temuge was weary enough to sway slightly as he stood by his brother, his eyes hooded as he longed for sleep.
“The boatmen stay well away from the shore at night,” Ho Sa murmured. “They are wary of bandits in the dark and they will have heard of your army to the west. We should find a place to sleep and go on in the morning.”
“I still don’t understand why you want to use the river to reach Baotou,” Khasar said. Ho Sa swallowed his anger. He had explained half a dozen times since leaving the tribes, but the Mongol warrior’s attachment to his pony was proving difficult to overcome.
“We were told not to call attention to ourselves, to enter Baotou like merchants or pilgrims,” he replied, keeping his voice calm. “Merchants do not ride in like Chin nobility and pilgrims would not have a horse between them.”
“It would be faster, though,” Khasar said stubbornly. “If the map I saw was accurate, we could cut across the bow of the river and be there in just a few days.”
“And have our passing noted by every peasant in the fields and every traveler on the roads,” Ho Sa snapped. He sensed Khasar stiffen angrily at his tone, but he had endured his complaining long enough. “I do not think your brother welcomes the thought of riding a thousand
li
across open land.”
Khasar snorted, but it was Temuge who replied.
“He has the right of it, brother. This great river will take us north to Baotou and we will be lost in the mass of travelers. I do not want us to fight our way through suspicious Chin soldiers.”
Khasar did not trust himself to reply. At first he had been excited at the thought of stealing among the Chin peoples, but Temuge rode like an old woman with stiff joints and was no fit companion for a warrior. Ho Sa was a little better, but away from Genghis, his fury at the task he had been given made him a surly companion. It was worse when Temuge had Ho Sa chattering in the language of bird clucking and Khasar could not join in. He had asked Ho Sa to teach him curses and insults, but the man had only glared at him. Far from being an adventure, the journey was turning into a bickering contest, and he wanted it over as soon as possible. The thought of drifting slowly up on one of the shadowy boats made his mood sink even further.
“We could swim the horses across the river tonight, then . . .” he began.
Ho Sa hissed out a sharp breath. “You would be swept away!” he snapped. “This is the Yellow River, a full
li
from one bank to the next, and this a narrow point. It is not one of your Mongol streams. There are no ferries here and by the time we reached Shizuishan to buy a place on one, our progress would have been reported. The Chin are not fools, Khasar. They will have spies watching the borders. Three men on horses will be too interesting for them to ignore.”
Khasar sniffed as he worked another piece of old mutton into his cheek and sucked on it.
“The river is not so wide,” he said with a sniff. “I could send an arrow over it.”
“You could not,” Ho Sa replied immediately. He clenched his fists as Khasar reached for his bow. “And we would not see it land in the dark.”
“Then I will show you in the morning,” Khasar retorted.
“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 the 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.”