Conn Iggulden - Lords of the Bow

The final items that Temuge produced were tents of white, red, and black for each general to use. The warriors took heart from seeing those rolled and loaded, tied down with long ropes. As nothing else, the presence of the tents showed their intention to conquer all those who stood against them. Their strength gave them the right.

In addition to the tumans, Genghis had assembled ten groups of twenty warriors to scout new lands. At first he thought of them as raiding parties, but Temuge had persuaded him to give them cartloads of gold and looted gifts. Temuge had spoken to the officer of each group, making sure the man understood his task was to observe and learn, even to bribe. Temuge had called them diplomats, a term he had learned from Wen Chao, many years before. In that, as in so much else, Temuge had created a new thing for the tribes. He could see their value even though they themselves could not. Those men were far less cheerful than the ones who knew they would carry cities before them.

Genghis had removed the bandages on his neck, showing a thick scab over yellow and black bruising. He breathed deeply in the cold air, coughing into his hand over a wave of weakness. He was nowhere near fit, but he too wished he was riding with the others, even those who expected to talk and spy rather than raid. He shot an irritable glance at Yenking at the thought, the city squatting like a toad on the plain. No doubt the Chin emperor was on the walls at that very moment, watching this strange movement of men and horses. Genghis spat on the ground in the direction of the city. They had hidden behind soldiers at the Badger's Mouth, and now they hid behind walls. He wondered how many more seasons they would hold out, and his mood was bitter.

"The men are ready," Kachiun said, riding up and dismounting. "Temuge cannot think of another thing to irritate them, thank the spirits. Will you blow the horn yourself?"

Genghis looked at the polished scout horn hanging around his brother's neck. He shook his head. "I will say goodbye to my sons first," he said. "Bring them to me." He gestured to a large blanket on the ground, with a bottle of black airag and four cups on the cloth.

Kachiun bowed his head and leaped back into the saddle, kicking the animal into a gallop through the squares of waiting men. It was a long way to ride to reach his nephews. Every warrior there had two other horses with him in a vast herd, and the morning was loud with their snorts and whinnying.

Genghis waited patiently until Kachiun returned with Jochi, Chagatai, and Ogedai, his brother standing aside to let the sons approach. Kachiun watched from the corner of his eye as Genghis sat cross-legged and the three boys faced him on the rough blanket. In silence, he poured each a cup of fiery spirit and they took them formally in their right hands, cupping the elbow with their left to show that they held no weapon.

Genghis could find nothing to criticize in their bearing as he looked them over. Jochi wore new armor, a little large on his frame. Chagatai still had the set he had been given. Only Ogedai wore the traditional padded deel robe, too small at ten to warrant a man's armor, even with the amount they had captured at the Badger's Mouth. The little boy regarded the cup of airag with some misgiving, but sipped it with the others, showing no expression.

"My little wolves," Genghis said with a smile. "You will all be men by the time I see you again. Have you spoken to your mother?"

"We have," Jochi replied. Genghis glanced at him and wondered at the depth of hostility in the boy's eyes. What had he ever done to deserve it?

Returning Jochi's dark gaze, Genghis spoke to them all.

"You will not be princes away from this camp. I have made that clear to your generals. There will be no special treatment for my sons. You will travel as any other warrior of the people, and when you are called to fight, there will be no one to save you because of who you are. Do you understand?"

His words seemed to suck the excitement out of them, their smiles fading. One by one, they nodded. Jochi drained his cup and put it down on the blanket.

"If you are raised to be officers," Genghis continued, "it will only be because you have shown yourselves to be quick thinking, skilled, and brave beyond the men around you. No one wants to be led by a fool, even a fool who is my son."

He paused, letting this sink in as his gaze fell on Chagatai.

"However, you are my sons and I expect to see the blood run true in each of you. The other warriors will be thinking of the next battle, or the last. You will be thinking of the nation you could lead. I expect you to find men you can trust and bind them to you. I expect you to push yourselves harder and more ruthlessly than anyone else ever could. When you are frightened, hide it. No one else will know and whatever causes it will pass. How you held yourself will be remembered."

There was so much to tell them. It was gratifying to have even Jochi hang on every word, but who else could tell them how to rule if not their own father? This was his last duty to the boys before they became men.

"When you are tired, never speak of it, and others will think you are made of iron. Do not allow another warrior to mock you, even in jest. It is something men do to see who has the strength to stand against them. Show them you will not be cowed, and if it means you must fight, well, that is what you must do."

"What if it is an officer who mocks us?" Jochi said softly.

Genghis looked sharply at him. "I have seen men try to deflect such things with a smile, or dipping their head, or even capering to make the others laugh all the harder. If you do that, you will never command. Take the orders you are given, but keep your dignity." He thought for a moment.

"From this day, you are no longer children. You too, Ogedai. If you have to fight, even if it is a friend, put him down as fast and hard as you possibly can. Kill if you have to, or spare him-but beware putting any man in your debt. Of all things, that causes resentment. Any warrior who raises his fist to you must know he is gambling with his life and that he will lose. If you cannot win at first, take revenge if it is the last thing you do. You are traveling with men who respect only strength greater than theirs, men harder than themselves. Above everything else, they respect success. Remember it."

His hard gaze swept across them and Ogedai shivered, feeling the cold of the words. Genghis did not smile to see it as he went on.

"Never allow yourself to become soft, or one day there will be a man who will take everything away from you. Listen to those who know more than you and be the last in every conversation to speak, until they wait on you to show them the way. And beware of weak men who come to you because of your name. Choose those who follow you as carefully as wives. If I have only one skill that has brought me to rule our people, it is that. I can see the difference between a blustering warrior and a man like Tsubodai, or Jelme, or Khasar."

The ghost of a sneer touched Jochi's mouth before he looked away, and Genghis refused to allow his irritation to show.

"One more thing before you go. Be wary of spilling your seed." Jochi flushed then and Chagatai's mouth dropped open. Only Ogedai looked confused. Genghis went on.

"Boys who spend each night playing with their parts become weak, obsessed with the needs of their body. Keep your hands away and treat desire as any other weakness. Abstinence will make you strong. You will have wives and mistresses in time."

As the three boys sat there in embarrassed silence, he untied his sword and scabbard. He had not planned it, but it seemed right and he wanted to do something they would remember.

"Take it, Chagatai," he said. He slapped the scabbard into his son's hands. Chagatai almost fumbled it in amazed pleasure. Genghis watched as the boy held the wolf's-head hilt up to catch the sun, then slowly drew the blade his father had carried for all his young life. The eyes of the others were on the shining metal, bright with envy.