The Mongoliad: Book Three

will claim what is mine.”

Ogedei looked down on the audience and his gaze settled on Jachin. And how could it not, with as many skirts and scarves as she wore? He gave her a beatific smile, and Lian’s heart jumped. For a brief instant, the Khagan ignored everyone else and focused on Second Wife, and Lian knew the effect the Khagan’s attention would have on Jachin-it would sustain her the entire time the Khagan was gone on his hunt. Longer, even. Somewhat selfishly, Lian knew that Jachin would be so much easier to deal with during that time. She would be lost in her own imaginary world, rapt with bliss.

“Such a dumb cow. So easily beguiled.” Munokhoi’s voice was quiet and controlled, and all the more frightening for it.

Lian’s heart hammered in her chest, and she found herself unable to breathe. She had not heard the ex- Torguud captain’s approach, and she was too frightened to do anything but press her left hand against her waist, hiding the tiny box with her hand and body as best she could.

“She will not protect you,” Munokhoi continued, coming closer to her. She could feel his presence now, a burning heat directly behind her. His breath stirred her hair.

Her hand dropped to her side, and she let out a tiny cry as his hand smashed on top of her right hand, pinning her fingers against the hilt of the knife she kept hidden in her skirts. “Do you think to stab me with your lover’s knife?” He pulled her hand back, twisting it behind her back. Out of sight of the crowd. “Here?” he whispered, his mouth close to her ear. “With all these people watching?”

She struggled briefly, but it only made him hold her more tightly, and the proximity of his body-and the oily stench of his breath-made her shudder and stop.

“I can kill you any time I want,” Munokhoi whispered. “Your protector is leaving, and Second Wife will be too busy pining for the man who doesn’t truly care for her to notice how frightened you have become.” He inhaled deeply, smelling her hair. “I like the way you smell when you are scared. I can only imagine what you are going to smell like when you know you are going to die.”

Lian tried to calm her breathing, tried to remember the lessons Gansukh had taught her, but her mind was like a cloud of wild butterflies. All she wanted to do was run, but Munokhoi’s grip on her arm was too tight.

“I am going to kill your lover,” Munokhoi sighed, “and then I am going to kill you. Maybe I will bring back his head so that he can watch you die.” He chuckled, and she couldn’t stop the shiver of revulsion that ran through her body.

She felt his leg against hers, and she finally remembered what Gansukh had taught her. Gathering her courage-a tiny spark of defiance that bloomed as soon as she reached for it-she stomped down with her heel, trying to catch Munokhoi’s foot. Simultaneously, she grabbed for his groping hand. If she could get a hold on his thumb…

His hand vanished as she was pushed from behind. Stumbling forward, she caught herself before she fell down, and still moving away from where she had been standing, she looked over her shoulder.

Munokhoi was gone.

The Khagan had finished his speech, and his horse-a magnificent white stallion- was being led through the crowd to the edge of the ger’s platform. The crowd continued to cheer, swords, spears, and bows rising and falling as they chanted the Khagan’s name.

Lian scuttled toward the crowd, trying to look every direction at once-hoping to find Gansukh, dreading that she might catch a glimpse of Munokhoi.

Gansukh tried to find Lian. When the Khagan had appeared, the crowd had become chaotic. More people had suddenly surrounded the Khagan’s ger, every one hoping to bask in his glory as he set out on this momentous hunt. He and Alchiq had joined the other hunters, waiting for the Khagan to finish his speech. Gansukh had started to fret with his horse’s tack. The last part of his conversation with Lian had been interrupted; he had wanted to tell her about the contents of the box. But he couldn’t find her in the crowd, even from the height afforded him by sitting astride his horse.

The Khagan had descended the stairs from his ger and was fussing with his horse’s bridle. The rest of his entourage had already mounted, and their horses were becoming restless. It was clear to most of the riders that there was nothing wrong with the Khagan’s tack, but no one dared say anything. They all waited, patiently; so did the crowd, but Gansukh could read an undercurrent of boredom creeping into some of the faces around him.

Where is she? He felt fairly certain that Munokhoi would come after him first, a certainty that had only increased in the days since the Chinese attack. The ex-Torguud captain liked to cause others pain, especially those who could not fight back as effectively, and so he knew Munokhoi would wait to deal with Lian. But now, scanning the crowd, he wasn’t so sure. And he was leaving the camp for at least a day. What would Munokhoi do while he was gone?

The Khagan swung himself up in his saddle, finally satisfied that the straps of his reins were not frayed or twisted. Ogedei adjusted his position in his saddle, and raising one arm over his head, he tried to stir the audience’s fervor again. But a little too much time had passed and some of the initial excitement of the Khagan’s hunt had waned; now the crowd’s enthusiasm felt a little forced.

Ogedei brought his hand down sharply and snapped his reins. His white stallion leaped forward with a snort, scattering courtiers who hadn’t been paying close enough attention. Namkhai gave a shout to his Torguud, and the honor guard followed the Khagan in a thunder of hooves. Master Chucai and the trackers followed, the shaman on his tiny pony bringing up the rear.

“Hai!” Alchiq shouted, slapping his reins against his horse’s neck. The gray-haired hunter galloped after the hunting party, leaving Gansukh as the last.

His horse snorted, eager to join the rest, and Gansukh searched for sight of Lian one last time.

Ogedei had given him the sprig to keep safe, and the decision to leave it with Lian had been a sudden one. He had sensed she was worried that he wasn’t coming back, and on one hand, he wasn’t terribly worried about the Khagan’s hunt. The escort would more than protect the Khagan from a rampant bear should things go awry. On the other, there was Munokhoi.

Munokhoi will come after me first. He tried to believe it, but his heart quailed. What if he was wrong? Not only was he was leaving her to die, he had entrusted her with the sprig. Had he just given it to his enemy?

Someone whistled shrilly, and Gansukh caught sight of Lian finally. Her face was drawn-frightened, concerned, steadfast-and her left hand was clenched tightly around the lacquer box that held the sprig. She pointed in the direction of the galloping horses. The fear vanished from her face as she slowly traced her thumb across her throat.

Gansukh was suddenly cold in the warm late-morning sun. He locked eyes with Lian and nodded, understanding what she was telling him. He slapped his reins, encouraging his horse to join the others.

The hunt had begun. It would be finished out there, in the woods.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Uncaged

Hans crouched behind the Black Wall, sheltered by the straining afternoon shadows. He could clearly hear every detail of the battle at the gate; in the chaos of battle, Hans knew, it was all a whirling wind-a thick cloud of noise and violence that deadened the senses and mind with its intensity. It was bad enough hearing it; he didn’t need to see it too. He had had enough of watching men kill one another during the siege of Legnica.