Conn Iggulden - Lords of the Bow

"If they have the white tent raised once more, my emperor will pay a tribute to make a hundred kings weep. Silk enough to line the roads back to your homeland, gems, slaves, written works of great magic, science and medicine, ivory, iron, timber…" He had seen Kokchu's eyes flicker at the mention of magic, but did not falter in his list. "… paper, jade, thousands upon thousands of carts laden with wealth. Enough to found an empire if the khan desires it. Enough to build cities of his own."

"All of which he would have anyway when the city falls," Kokchu murmured.

The spy shook his head firmly. "At the last, when defeat is inevitable, the city will be fired from within. Know that I speak truth when I say your khan will have only ashes and two more years of waiting on this plain." He paused, trying and failing to see how his words were being received. Kokchu stood like a statue, barely breathing as he listened.

"Why have you not made this offer to the khan himself?" Kokchu asked.

Ma Tsin shook his head, suddenly weary. "We are not children, shaman, you and I. Let me speak plainly. Genghis has raised his black tent and all his men know that it means death. It would cost him pride to accept the emperor's tribute, and from what I have seen, he would let Yenking burn first. But if another man, one he trusted, could take the news to him in private? He could suggest a show of mercy, perhaps, for those innocents in the city who suffer."

To his astonishment, Kokchu barked laughter at the idea. "Mercy? Genghis would see it as weakness. You will never meet a man who understands fear in war as well as the khan I follow. You could not tempt him with such a thing."

Despite himself, the spy felt anger surface at the shaman's mocking tone. "Then tell me how he can be turned from Yenking, or kill me here for your dogs. I have told you all I know."

"I could turn him," Kokchu said softly. "I have shown him what I can do."

"You are feared in the camp," the spy replied quickly, grabbing his bony arm. "Are you the one I need?"

"I am," Kokchu replied. His face twisted at the other man's relief. "All that remains is for you to name the price for my help in this small thing. I wonder, how much is your city worth to your emperor? What price should I put on his life?"

"Anything you want will be part of the tribute paid to the khan," the spy replied. He dared not believe the man was toying with him. What choice did he have but to follow where the shaman led?

Kokchu was silent for a time then, weighing the man who sat so stiffly erect on the bed.

"There is real magic in the world, slave. I have felt it and used it. If your people know anything of the art, your boy emperor will have it in his precious city," he said at last. "A man cannot learn enough in a hundred lifetimes. I want to know every secret your people have found."

"There are many secrets, shaman: from making paper and silk to the powder that burns, the compass, oil that will not go out. What do you wish to know?"

Kokchu snorted. "Do not bargain with me. I want them all. Do you have men who work these arts in the cities?"

The spy nodded. "Priests and doctors of many orders."

"Have them bind their secrets for me, as a gift between colleagues. Tell them to leave nothing out or I will tell my khan a bloody vision and he will come back to burn your lands all the way to the sea. Do you understand?"

The spy freed his tongue and answered, weak with relief. He could hear raised voices somewhere nearby and he rushed along, desperate to finish. "I will make it so," he whispered. "When the white tent is raised, the emperor will surrender." He thought for a moment, then spoke again. The voices outside were louder.

"If there is betrayal, shaman, everything you want to know will go up in flames. There is enough of the powder that burns in the city to tear the stones to dust."

"A brave threat," Kokchu replied, sneering. "I wonder if your people would truly have the will to do such a thing. I have heard you, slave. You have done your work. Now go back to your city and wait for the white tent with your emperor. It will come in time."

The spy wanted to urge the shaman on, to make him understand that he should move quickly. Caution stopped his mouth with the thought that it would only weaken his position. The shaman simply did not care that the people of the city were dying every day.

"What is happening out there?" Kokchu snapped, disturbed by the shouts and calls outside the ger. He gestured for the spy to leave and followed him out into the moonlight. Everyone around them was staring at the city, and both men turned to gaze at the walls.

The young women walked slowly up the stone steps, wearing white, the color of death. They were skeletally thin and barefoot, but they did not shiver. The cold did not seem to touch them at all. The soldiers on the walls fell back in superstitious dread and no one barred their path. By the thousand, they gathered above the city. By the ten thousand. Even the wind fell to a whisper across Yenking, and the silence was perfect.

The walkway around the city was frozen white and hard, fifty feet below where they stood. Almost as one, the young women of Yenking stepped to the very edge. Some held hands, others stood alone, gazing out into the darkness. For all the miles of wall, they stood there, looking down into the moonlight.

The spy caught his breath, whispering a prayer he had not remembered for years, from before he had forgotten his true name. His heart broke for his people and his city.

All along the walls, figures in white had climbed like a line of ghosts. The Mongol warriors saw they were women and called out to them raucously, laughing and jeering at the distant figures. The spy shook his head to shut out the coarse sounds, tears sparkling in his eyes. Many of the girls held hands as they stared down at the enemy who had ridden right to the gates of the emperor's city.

As the spy watched in frozen grief, they stepped off. The watching warriors fell silent in awe. From a distance, they dropped like white petals and even Kokchu shook his head, astonished. Thousands more took their place on the wall and stepped to their deaths without a cry, their bodies breaking on the hard stones below.

"If there is betrayal, the city and everything in it will be destroyed in fire," the spy whispered to the shaman, his voice thick with sorrow.

Kokchu no longer doubted it.

GenghisLordsoftheBow

A S THE WINTER DEEPENED, children were born in the gers, many of them fathered by men away with the generals or one of the diplomatic groups Temuge had sent out. Fresh food was plentiful after the capture of the supply column, and the vast camp enjoyed a period of peace and prosperity they had never known before. Kachiun kept the warriors fit with constant training on the plain around Yenking, but it was a false peace and there were few men there who did not turn their eyes to the city many times each day, waiting.

Genghis suffered in the cold for the first time in his life. He had little appetite, but he had gained a layer of fat by forcing himself to eat beef and rice. Though he lost some of his gauntness, his cough remained, stealing his wind and infuriating him. For a man who had never known sickness, it was immensely frustrating to have his own body betray him. Of all the men in the camp, he stared most often at the city, willing it to fall.

It was in the middle of a night filled with swirling snow that Kokchu came to him. For some reason, the coughing was worse at night, and Genghis had become used to the shaman visiting him before dawn with a hot drink. With the gers as close as they were, his hacking grunts could be heard by all those around him.

Genghis sat up when he heard Kokchu challenged by his guards. There would be no repeat of the assassination attempt, with six good men around the great ger in shifts each night. He stared into the gloom as Kokchu entered and lit a lamp swinging from the roof. Genghis could not speak to him for a moment. Spasms racked his chest until he was red in the face. It passed, as always, leaving him gasping for breath.