the regular Mongol cavalry, spread about so as to lose their Tay connections. In the cartoon parlance, Kiyat had eaten Tay.
But there remained some fight in a few of the lesser Tay officers. The Tay had fought extremely well, and Alp wanted those officers—alive with him, or out of the Game. A group of six detached and fled. Alp recognized the markings of the lead ship. This was the warrior who had shot him down in battle!
Taking two hundred horse, Alp set out after the fugitive. The little band maneuvered cleverly but could not shake the experienced Kiyat pursuit. Twice Alp was sure he had them trapped—and twice he lost them again, shooting down only the lesser warriors while the leader escaped. Alp's fury was mixed with admiration: that was some Tay!
Then the enemy horse lost power. The lone fugitive slowed, and was surrounded by Alp's riders. 'Who are you?' Alp demanded on the screen, close range.
The face of a youngster appeared. The man was no more than twenty, but there was a fire about him that was more than the foolhardiness of youth. 'I am Jebe the Yesut.'
'The Arrow,' Alp mused, translating the name's literal meaning. 'A fitting designation.' For there was no doubt of Jebe's proficiency with the bow!
'You would never have caught me if my horse had been fresh!' Jebe said defiantly.
'True,' Alp agreed, amicable now that he had his man. He wondered, as he did whenever he encountered a valiant warrior, whether there could be original nomad blood in him.
'Give me a fair chance!' Jebe said, and it was a challenge, not a plea. 'Let me have a fresh mount, and I'll fight anyone you name. I want to die honorably.'
Struck by his courage, Alp consented. It was understood that Jebe would not be freed. If he overcame one Kiyat warrior, he would have to meet another. But it was a fitting demise for a brave man. If he took several with him, his honor and his Game-score would be that much greater.
Alp designated a ship with a blaze of white on its nose, and Jebe transferred. The Mongols made a sphere a light-second across, and a volunteer champion entered to take up Jebe's challenge. Contests of this nature were much enjoyed by the players of Steppe, and the screens were alive with private bets on the outcome.
Jebe accelerated toward the Kiyat, but did not fire. He galloped on through the center, gaining speed, and in a quarter-second was up against the containing wall. One of his accurate arrows brought down the ship nearest him; then he struck another with his spear and broke through the hole.
The Kiyats swarmed after him—but Jebe had a full second's start and a fresh horse. They could not catch him. Alp swore violently in Uigur, furious at having been so readily tricked by a mere Galactic. But in a moment his expletives turned to laughter. That Jebe possessed true nomad cunning!
A few Minutes later the white-nosed horse returned. A thousand Mongol ships went out to bring it down—but Alp made them hold their fire. 'What mischief are you up to now, Arrow?' he demanded, suppressing a smile.
'I have only hinted at what I can do,' Jebe said insolently. 'Now I'd like to do it for you, because you gave me my fair chance and you are the most worthy Qan in the Game.'
For a moment Alp hesitated, uncertain whether to blot out this impudence or accept the services of a remarkable player. Jebe might be a Tay agent yet...no, after Alp was through with the Tay clan, there would not be anything there for an agent to serve! Better to trust this man's proffered loyalty, as he had done with others.
'All right, Jebe,' he said. 'I'll give you command of ten horsemen. Show me what you can do
Then Alp proceeded to reduce the Tatars as he had the Tays, massacring the warriors and incorporating their women and children into his own tribe. Jebe did well and was promoted; but Subotai did even better, tricking the Tatars into a poor defensive posture at the outset of that campaign.
Yet another coalition formed against him, led again by Jamuqa. Alp had to campaign continuously against the Markit, Naiman, and fragments of other tribes. More Minutes passed in battle, and though Alp won steadily, he seemed no closer to achieving the nomad unity he sought. But the worst was yet to come.
By 1203 Alp's relations with Togrul the Kerayit—his old friend Uga—had deteriorated. Togrul had undertaken several missions on his own, without advising his ally Temujin, and had failed to split the Game-spoils with him. Once, during a joint engagement against the Naiman, Togrul had decamped in the night, leaving Temujin to extricate himself alone, with great difficulty. Uga later apologized, claiming it was an error, that his runners had been ambushed before reaching Alp with news of his plans. But the circumstance was suspicious, and Alp was forced to wonder just how far the judgment of his old friend could now be trusted. Uga was making too many mistakes.
Still, it was welcome news when a messenger arrived from Togrul with an invitation to a reconciliation feast. Together they could put down Jamuqa once and for all. 'I shall attend at once,' Alp announced.
But no sooner had the Kerayit horseman departed than Alp's screen lighted again. It was old Munlik, his adviser since childhood. While Alp had been carving a Steppe empire Munlik had quietly allied himself most cosily by marrying Temujin's mother Oelun-eke. Alp disliked him no less for that but had to make the best of it. The widow did need a husband. Munlik's seven grown sons had become increasingly obstreperous, now considering themselves to be the equals of Temujin's own brothers: did they not have the same mother? Old Munlik himself was a crafty one—but loyal, now that Alp was Qan.
'What is it, my father?' Alp inquired politely, suppressing the quirk of annoyance he felt at having to use this address.
'Son, listen to me,' Munlik said greasily. 'I served your father when he was invited to a feast. Had he but listened to me then...'
An ugly shock ran through Alp. There was no doubt about what the old man meant—but Alp had heard similar suspicions before. 'Are you implying that my honorable ally Wang Qan would betray me?' he demanded tersely.
'Son, I know you don't like me—but when have I ever misinformed you?' Unctuous but accurate! 'Togrul's son is close to Jamuqa, and he has prevailed on his father to join Jamuqa against you. They have set an ambush to kill you. My spies know this.'
