The Mongoliad: Book Two

There was no sign of the fiery woman who had accosted him in the alley. She was resigned to some fate she had already decided upon in her head, some judgment she assumed he was going to pass.

What was he to do? The contents of the bag suggested she was going to escape, and he should tell Chucai what he knew. It would reflect poorly on him if she ran, as rumors of their relationship would surface. Munokhoi, the ambitious and vindictive Torguud captain, would especially relish the opportunity to turn the Khagan against him. Would the bond he had with Ogedei be enough to convince them that he had nothing to do with Lian’s flight?

But he had not expected her to be so complacent, to give up so readily. He had thought her mind was made up-she would be free or she would die trying. “I don’t know,” he replied honestly.

She started to stand, and he grabbed her arm, holding her back. “Listen to me…” She tried to pull free, and he tightened his grip. “Listen,” he said. He glanced around, checking to see if their conversation had caught anyone’s attention. Too much arkhi had been drunk already; no one showed any interest in their conversation. “This is the worst time to escape,” he said. “There are too many patrols, and they’re all still eager to prove themselves. You’ll never make it.”

While he spoke, she had been staring at his hand, but she raised her head now and looked up at him. “The worst time…” she said. “Is there a better time, Gansukh?”

He let go. “That’s not what I meant.

“What did you mean?”

“Lian, you can’t-”

“I have to, Gansukh. I cannot spend the rest of my life as a prisoner.” It was her turn to grab him. “Help me.”

Her words paralyzed him. His tongue would not move, nor could he pull away from her. Help her? It wasn’t the question that had struck him senseless but the sudden realization that he wanted to. But at the same time, he was confounded by the realization that doing so would mean either never seeing her again or going with her-two choices that had been swimming in the back of his mind for the last few days but that he had studiously avoided thinking about. Until this very moment, when she spoke those two words.

“The Mongol Empire is on the brink of disaster, Gansukh,” Lian whispered. “Ogedei Khan will drink himself to death-despite everything-and what happens then? The Empire will fall apart as his wives and his brothers fight amongst themselves over who will be the next Khagan. What happens to me during that time? To us?”

Gansukh found his voice. “Ogedei Khan knows what he must do,” he said. He removed her hand from his arm. “I know what my duty is.” Something fluttered in his chest, like a tiny bird caught in a bramble, and he exhaled slowly, letting his chest collapse. Whatever he felt became more frantic, fighting the crushing weight of his denial, and then it went limp. He was very tired all of a sudden, and all his appetite was gone. All he wanted to do was go back to his tent and sleep. He didn’t want to have to make this choice.

“Please give me the knife back,” Lian asked softly.

He shook his head. “If you are caught with it, you will be punished,” he said dully.

“If I’m caught with any of this, I’ll be punished.” Lian pounded her fist against the bag. Some of her fiery independence was returning, and Gansukh felt a brief spasm in his chest, one final flutter of affection.

“Lian-” he started.

She shook her head, refusing to listen to him, and leaped up. Clutching the bag, she rushed out of the ring of torches. Gansukh got to his feet, meaning to follow her. To what end? The thought made him indecisive, and he staggered slightly as he tried to sit back down and go after Lian at the same time.

“The horse rider has had too much to drink already.”

Munokhoi and a pair of Torguud guards had come up behind him. He hadn’t seen them coming, and he held his tongue, unsure how much of the conversation with Lian they had seen. Munokhoi came too close to Gansukh, a leer stretching his face. “Your pretty bird has flown,” he chuckled. His breath stank of arkhi, and his eyes were black holes that seemed to suck the torchlight into them. “If she flies too far away, the giant bear won’t be the only thing we hunt.” He glanced at his companions and laughed with them. “What soft skin she has…”

Gansukh stood firm on the sandy ground. Before he had come to court, his reaction to Munokhoi’s words would have been physical. He would have drawn his knife and demanded the other man do the same. But after all the lessons with Lian, he knew that was the reaction of a wild animal-one wolf responding to another. Munokhoi had come looking for a fight; why give him that satisfaction? Did he not have better weapons at his disposal now?

I am a better man because of her, he realized, and the dead thing in his heart started fluttering again.

“There are no walls out here, city boy,” he said with a hint of a smile. “How are you going to catch something that can fly out of the range of your Chinese toys?”

Munokhoi jabbed Gansukh in the chest with a stiff finger. “You know nothing about-” he growled.

“Captain Munokhoi.” One of his companions interrupted Munokhoi, and when he whirled on the man, the guard redirected his anger with a gesture.

A guard was running toward them. “Captain Munokhoi,” he shouted, scattering a trio of concubines and a minor ambassador as he dashed across their carpet. “The patrols are late, and horses-without riders-”

Munokhoi didn’t wait for the man to finish. He shoved Gansukh aside and sprinted toward the main table. “The Khagan,” he screamed. “We are under attack. Protect the Khagan!” His Torguud guards drew their swords and followed, shoving their way through the suddenly panicked crowd.

Gansukh hesitated, torn between his duty and what was caught in his heart. Lian…

25

Decipies, Et Pr?valebis

“Even by your standards, that is rather childish, don’t you think?” There was an impish gleam in Colonna’s eyes that belied his tone.

After the messengers had left their impromptu conclave, the cardinals had dispersed as well, not wishing their meeting to be stumbled upon by the others. He and Capocci had intended to lead the girl and the young man back to Fieschi’s secret entrance, and once they had passed the Old Scar-the name Capocci had given to the savage break in the foundation of the ancient temple in which they were housed-the roughly hewn cardinal had taken his leave. I have souls to rescue, he had said as he vanished into the dark tunnels. These two, I leave in your care.

Once the messengers had departed the confines of the Septizodium tunnels, shutting the secret panel and sealing Colonna in darkness once more, he had returned to the haunts of the captive cardinals. Capocci had not been that hard to find; Colonna suspected he knew what the other man was up to.

Capocci was seated in a dusty antechamber, a narrow room with tall arched doorways. Of the four thresholds, three were filled with rubble, hiding whatever grand hall this chamber abutted, and the fourth led back to the rest of the areas more commonly used by the cardinals. A pair of small lanterns kept the seated cardinal company, along with a few other objects.

The heavily bearded cardinal glanced up when he heard Colonna’s voice. “Most children know better than to play with poisonous insects.” His beard seemed to flap like a bird’s wing as he smiled. Something small squirmed in his leather-clad grip, and he dropped it into a clay jar sitting on the floor in front of him. “You may be right, however. This new hobby may qualify as infantile behavior, but for something so infantile, I must say I’m pretty good at it.” His smile broadened, his bearded wings lifting. “Want to try it?” He gestured to a wooden box beside him; out of the tiny airholes in the top came the furtive scratching of half a dozen furious scorpions, clawing and crawling over one another. “There is another glove.” A heavy leather gauntlet, left-handed, lay on the floor beside