Chilaun to me!'
The orbit was vacant. Oelun-eke and her children were gone with their remaining ships. Alp knew she would not have deserted him. Had they been driven elsewhere by hunger—or had they been betrayed?
Alp searched the Kentei region, broadcasting his identity on the band he had used to locate Qasar. The odds were that they were gone from the Game, raided and dispatched while he was prisoner—but though he might actually fare better without them, he could not simply write them off. There were other loyalties besides success.
He found them at last, hungry, their horses exhausted and useless. They were in another orbit, ready to quit the Game themselves rather than seek help that could prejudice Temujin's own chances. 'But why did you move?' Alp demanded.
'My responsibility,' Qasar said. 'I feared you had been captured and that Targ's ships would come—'
'You know I would never betray my family!' Alp exclaimed.
Qasar shook his head, thinking it out. He was a fine archer but not bright otherwise. 'That's what Belgutai said. He said you would return—that we should wait. But I thought they would trace us the same way they traced you—'
'Let it drop,' Alp said tiredly. So Belgutai had been loyal!
After that things improved, marginally. The boys grew in size and cunning. Alp was amazed to see how even a few Hours made a difference, as the Machine conditioning faded and allowed the grown men to break free of the boyish cocoons. Qasar developed into a big, broad-shouldered man, and Alp's oldest sister became a buxom woman.
Heartened by the maturing power of his little band, Alp left the sanctuary of the mountains on occasion to make his survival known to his former Kiyat clansmen, and formally demand the chieftain's tithe that was due him. He had little success, but that was not the main point. The idea was to let them know what their obligations were and keep reminding them of an increasingly viable alternative. The young man of fourteen was more formidable than the lad of thirteen... but not yet enough to reclaim his clan.
Still, he acquired several more ships, until he had nine of his own: enough to mount every member of his party including the girls, with one to spare. Targ's warriors no longer prowled in the vicinity; it was too dangerous for small parties and not worth the effort of a large party. Besides, Targ had pretty well consolidated his claim on the Borjigin tribe, so Alp was less of a threat. Alp and Qasar were now able to restock openly at the depots, though they always kept one ship in orbit... just in case.
When Temujin was fifteen, eight of their ships were stolen. They emerged from the supply complex to see them taking off, on slave-circuit to a group of Tay raiders. More mischief by Targ's men!
Belgutai had the ninth horse in orbit. Quickly he landed—but his lone mount could not carry them all. 'I'll go after them!' he volunteered.
'You couldn't handle it,' Qasar said. 'I'll take your horse and go.'
'You'd have no chance either,' Alp said. 'I'll have to do it myself.' He was not the best bowshot, but he was certainly the most cunning fighter of the family group, so this was reasonable. Without those horses they would be confined to the planet, prey to Targ's men.
He left them at the depot, a precarious location but necessary for now. The chase was difficult, for the raiders were better fueled and provisioned than he. He was barely able to keep track of their traces. After fifteen Minutes he was afraid his horse would fail, forcing him to give up. Then he spied a strange ship.
It was chancy but necessary. He hailed it on his screen. 'I am Temujin, chief of the Kiyat. I seek no quarrel with you.'
'I am Borchu of the Arulat,' the other replied immediately. His face on the screen seemed about Alp's own Game-age. 'What do you wish?'
Alp recognized the name: this was the son of another clan chief. This lad could help him—if he chose. 'I need a fresh steed, quickly. I have little but promises to offer in return.'
Borchu considered. 'I have heard the word of Yesugei was good. Not so, that of his enemies.'
So the Arulat would help! 'Word-breaking is hideous in a ruler,' Alp said sincerely. 'Eight horses of mine have been stolen. Help me, and half are yours.'
'Good enough! I will ride with you.'
Borchu gave him a remount, and the two of them set out in fresh pursuit of the bandits. In another fifteen Minutes they caught up.
The Tays had landed on another depot planet, satisfied that they had easily outrun the pursuit. How far could one lad get on a tired horse? The eight ships were parked in the lot, unguarded, while the thieves caroused inside.
It was a simple matter to transfer the reins of the slave circuits and lead the eight away. Alp was reminded of the time, back in his very first part, when the T'ang Chinese had slipped the reins of the Uigur delegation's spare horses.
But Targ's warriors were not entirely napping. In seconds half a dozen of their ships were spaceborne and in hot pursuit. The Tay leader's steed was fresh and swift, and possessed a lariat: a ship-anchored cannon whose shells were magnetic, capable of latching on to a fleeing ship and nullifying its drive, making it easy prey for stunner or tractor beam. The range of the lariat was short—but the enemy was steadily gaining and would soon be near enough.
'Lend me your bow,' Borchu said to Temujin. 'I'll drop back and shoot him down.'
This was a polite figurative way to put it; of course Borchu had his own. He was merely clearing his proposed course of action with his new friend.
'The others might catch up and wound you,' Alp said generously, for he rather liked this man's attitude. 'I'll do it myself.' He looped about, aimed, and loosed an arrow at the Tay horseman. It scored, and the ship went dead. The others reined in as they came up to it. Alp's talents were improving! The threat was over.
