“That all depends on the will of the Khagan,” Chucai said, and Lian bowed her head, a devotional acknowledgment of the Khagan’s magnificent being. “We are ready, though, so as soon as he desires to leave for Burqan-qaldun, we shall.”
Gansukh nodded smartly. “Good. I am looking forward to getting out of this stifling palace and sleeping under the open sky again.” He thumped a fist against the bag, and Lian tried very hard not to flinch, anticipating some sound from the purse of jewelry and coins. “I will not let these become my prison. I am a free man.”
He inclined his head to both of them and wandered off. Chucai and Lian watched as Gansukh and the bag disappeared into the crowd in the direction of the Khagan’s ger. His stride was exaggerated, and he swaggered slightly, as if he had just won a wrestling match.
“Horse boy,” Lian chirped. Privately, she wanted to run after him and kiss him-a fierce urge flushing through her blood, the encounter in the alley still fresh in her mind and body. But to openly expose herself in that way would be to destroy the illusion they were attempting to weave for Chucai. If they had even been successful in doing so-Chucai’s bland expression made it hard to tell.
“He has learned much about life at court, hasn’t he?” Chucai noted. “But for all of our help, he’s still a nomad of the steppes.” He waved a hand toward the palace walls. “Out there, it’s his world.”
Lian gave Chucai one of her alluring yet aloof smiles, hoping he would misread her expression as being disdainful of having to credit Gansukh with any intelligence whatsoever.
Secretly, she was counting on it. He had come to her aid so quickly and so effortlessly. Would it be that easy?
Toregene blocked the inner door to Ogedei Khan’s quarters, barking orders at anyone who dared to come within earshot-servants, guards, the other wives. Ogedei slumped on an enormous chair near the center of the room. Absently, he toyed with a large bone-handled knife in a leather sheath, oblivious to the chaos around him. Occasionally, a servant would wander close, intending to ask for the Khagan’s guidance on the disposition of a piece of furniture or of some robes, but the Khagan only grunted inconclusively-if he answered at all. Toregene would quickly snap at the confused servants, sending them scurrying away, smarting from the lash of her tongue.
Ogedei was ready to leave Karakorum. She could sense his indifference was born from frustration. He knew all the preparations were necessary, that to hurry them would only cause them to take longer, but all he yearned for was to begin the long journey to Burqan-qaldun. The Khagan, like most men, did not like to wait. It was a trait his father had truly mastered; unfortunately, it had not been passed on to any of his sons.
“We are leaving,” she announced in a shrill voice. “If it cannot be readied by the time the Khagan leaves this room, it stays here.” After a moment of shocked silence, the servants and other wives exploded into a frenzy of activity as they frantically tried to stuff more items into already overstuffed trunks.
Ogedei was looking at her, a small smile playing across his lips. He waved her over, and she crossed the room to sit at his feet, tucking her legs beneath her.
“What would I do without you?” he asked.
Her smile was genuine. “Thankfully, it is a question that will never be answered, my Khan. I am yours now and forever.”
Ogedei nodded; then his smile faded. “My wife, I must ask a favor of you.”
Toregene turned to face her husband more fully. “Anything, my Khan.”
“I want you to stay here.”
“What?” She stared at him, unable to fathom the reason for his request. She was First Wife. She was his woman; she was always at his side. That was her right. Why would he not take her with him? His face was impassive; if he suffered any qualms about his request, they did not show.
It is not a request.
“Of…of course, my Khan,” she murmured, dropping her gaze. She put her hand on his knee for a moment, and when he did not move, she let it slip off. “If this is what you want,” she tried. “If…if this is your wish.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Toregene saw that all activity in the room had ceased. The servants were trying to hide behind the trunks they were hauling from the room. The other wives had lost all interest in their final, desperate flurry of packing; Jachin was openly staring at Ogedei and Toregene, and she made no effort to hide her glee.
Toregene couldn’t imagine what offense she had given the Khagan. She tried to calm her thoughts, but Jachin’s delight was only making her angrier.
“Toregene,” Ogedei rumbled. He rested his hand on her head, stroking her hair, and his touch quieted some of her anger. “You are First Wife,” he said, “and there is no one I would rather have as the head of my household.” She leaned against his hand, grasping his arm so that he would not stop touching her hair. He raised his voice so that everyone in the room would hear his words. “I must go on this hunt, and to be successful, I must be able to concentrate. If I have to worry about-”
“You will not have to worry about me,” Toregene interrupted. She hadn’t meant to beg, but the thought of being passed over for Jachin was still too much to bear. “I will be like a shadow at midday. I will-”
He put his hand over her face, his fingers pressing against her mouth. “I need you to stay,” he said. “Someone must watch over my affairs. Someone I can trust.”
Behind her, Jachin gasped, and Toregene blinked heavily as her vision swam. She sagged as he removed his hand, and she tried to steady herself. “My Khan…” she began, but he was no longer sitting in the chair.
His hand resting on the hilt of his father’s knife, Ogedei strode toward the door. “To the hunt,” he cried, and all activity in the room resumed. Guards opened the door as the Khagan approached, and the remaining servants, tottering under overflowing bags, scampered after him.
Toregene caught sight of Jachin’s face as she followed the Khagan. Second Wife was still trying to decide if she should be elated or furious, and Toregene gave her no satisfaction either way. She remained slumped over, her body quivering, until the wives and their servants were gone.
She sat upright and waved over one of the remaining guards. “Find my son,” she said.
“I’m sure he’s with the caravan,” the guard replied.
“Find him,” she snapped. “And his bags.” When the guard hesitated, she explained her desire more plainly. “He isn’t going. If I stay, so does he.”
The guard nodded and, taking another man with him, departed to find Guyuk.
Toregene smoothed her hair back, running her fingers along the ribbons woven into the thick braids. Her blood was still racing, and her hands shook slightly as she worked. Her mind was no longer frozen in shock; in fact, it felt like there was a river in her head. Her thoughts raced and leaped like a torrent of fresh mountain water, released from the cold captivity of winter.
The Khagan had left her in charge. If he didn’t come back…
“Guyuk,” she whispered. My son. The Khagan’s son.
None of Genghis’s progeny had enough patience. Not like she did.
* * *
Master Chucai met Ogedei as he emerged from the palace. His tall advisor bowed deeply, acknowledging the significance of Ogedei’s appearance this morning. The Khagan had left his palace, and as soon as he climbed aboard his magnificent wheeled ger, he would be leaving Karakorum. “The sun shines brightly this morning, O great Khagan,” Chucai said. “It is an auspicious day to begin your journey.”