could he ask her to share that risk? He hadn't even told her of it.
'Yes I will!' she said. 'I don't care what you are in real life, or how well you do in Steppe, or what you look like. You told me before that you weren't married—'
'I'm not,' he said quickly. 'But there is something you should know before you decide. I—'
'I decided four centuries ago,' she said. 'Then, now, and forever!'
'But I may not even have any existence outside the—'
His voice was drowned out by the sound of a ship landing almost on top of the
But ships were landing all about, and warriors were dismounting, fully dressed and armed. They were not his men. This was a raiding party!
Alp fought, but there were too many of them, and his own warriors were not organized.
There was a scream behind him. 'Temujin!'
Nude Borte was being dragged away by two of the enemy. Half a dozen more warriors stood between them. Alp's own men were all occupied.
Alp charged back toward the tent, laying out warriors right and left. They were Game-players, not true nomads: no match for him individually. He was an energumen with the sword. But there were so many! And more ships were landing!
In moments his own horse would be stolen. Then he would be truly helpless! He could not reach Borte, who was already being hauled into an enemy vessel. It was a heart-wrenching decision—the same he had made back in life when his wife and child were killed—but the only one; he turned and ran for his steed.
Even then, it was close. Had he not been bred to the Steppe, he would not have made it. He lost count of the warriors he downed in that mad scramble. But the same chaos that prevented him from saving his wife also inhibited the enemy from reacting to his new thrust. He made it.
He was not out of it yet! A dozen ships rose with him. For the first time he saw their markings: Markit.
Markit—the toughest individual fighters of the region. Suddenly he understood. Oelun-eke, mother of Temujin, had been stolen from a Markit chief. It had taken eighteen Days for the Markit revenge to materialize—but the time had been well chosen! Now Temujin's own bride had been stolen in a similar manner!
There was a certain justice to it that Alp would have admired at another time. Someone among the Markit was a very shrewd player—and the Game Machine would give that man bonus points for that initiative and planning and nicety of execution! Perhaps Alp's own life had been spared intentionally, so that the precise point of the raid would be manifest, in case the Machine had any doubt.
Beautiful—but they had made one little mistake. They had not taken into account the possibility that the player of the role of Temujin the Kiyat would actually fall in love with the player of Borte the Qongirat, and would go to extraordinary measures to recover her—Game or no Game.
The real Temujin had had stern pride; Alp knew that, just from the nature of the part. He doubted, now, that Temujin was the one scheduled to become Jenghiz Qan; the boy had the proper qualities, but the elements of the Game were too heavily weighted against him. He would already have been eliminated more than once had not Alp bent the part just enough to gain essential help. Still, it was a decent part—and he was about to stretch it to its limits.
Let the Game Machine stop him openly, if it had to! Life no longer had meaning without Koka/Borte, and nothing but death would balk him!
Meanwhile, he had to elude his pursuers. This turned out to be easier than it might have been. Qasar and Borchu had escaped the planet, together with a number of his men. Also, he had posted several ships in orbit. They had not been able to stop the abrupt surprise attack but had evidently given a good account of themselves, and a number survived. These stray forces now closed in and provided cover for his escape. It was a rout, certainly—but they made it safely to the familiar Kentei range.
Alp did not stay in hiding. The real Temujin might have licked his wounds fatalistically and taken a new wife, but Alp's needs were different and his pride more devious. The moment the enemy cleared out, he took a new steed and went to Togrul the Kerayit. He also sent Borchu and Qasar and Chilaun out to make contact with other Mongol clans, in the hope that some would make common cause with him on this mission. Obviously the Markit would not settle for one prisoner when there was other loot to be taken, and it behooved other Mongols to drive the common enemy out. But of course he wanted more than that; he meant to invade the Markit homespace itself, and that would be no mean undertaking!
Togrul came through with a small army and led it personally. He seemed eager to discharge his debt to Temujin's father. Alp hoped it would not be too obvious that he and Uga were private friends. By Game logic, now that Alp had cashed in this asset, he should not be able to depend on further help from the Kerayit at a later date, should another emergency arise. That was the seeming foolishness of this mission: he was not doing it for anything important, like vengeance for insult or acquisition of a throne. Just for the recovery of one wife, whose value would surely have been decreased by the uses to which the Markit men would put her in the interim.
Well, perhaps he would not have to ask for help another time. He hoped so!
One of the other Mongol clans did respond. Jamuqa, the young chief of the Jajirat, arrived with a welcome complement. Together, the Kiyat, Jajirat and Kerayit elements made a formidable fleet.
Alp welcomed Jamuqa as soon as the man landed. 'Do you know, I was about to choose that part myself!' he admitted.
'I thought as much,' the Jajirat responded with a grin. 'Why do you think I came here?'
'Pei-li!' Alp cried, recognizing his old companion. 'I haven't seen you since Khitan days!'
'Well, I've seen
'And Temujin didn't look like much!' Alp finished.
