Conn Iggulden - Conqueror

It was one more thing she could not discuss with Torogene. The woman still mourned a husband and had set her son to rule the nation. It was not Sorhatani’s place to lay his weaknesses in front of her. Just a week before, Guyuk had refused to see a delegation of princes from Koryo, preferring instead to go hunting with his companions. Sorhatani frowned unconsciously as she recalled the tense meeting with the Koryon men. She had tried to ease the insult of his absence with words and gifts, but she could see their anger in the silent looks between them. When Guyuk had returned days later, he had sent his chancellor, Yao Shu, to hear their requests. She could have done that herself if Guyuk allowed her any authority.

The memory brought angry colour to her cheeks. For once, she had ignored his blustering servants, forcing her way into his presence. She had hoped she could make him see that his life could not be one long feast or endless hunting with his friends. A khan had to rule day by day, to make the decisions they could not make without him.

There had been no contrition in Guyuk when she told him. Instead, he had laughed at her, sending her away in a manner calculated to insult. That, too, she would not mention to Torogene, not just as the woman was leaving, her life’s work done. Sorhatani realised she would miss her friend, but there had always been subjects she dared not raise.

If Sorhatani hadn’t had Kublai, she thought she would have gone mad, surrounded by a nest of fools and lies and alliances. At least her son would listen. He drank up new information, possessing an insight that could still astonish her. Kublai seemed to know everything that went on in the city, until she suspected him of having a ring of spies as accomplished as her own. Yet even Kublai had been troubled in recent days. Guyuk was planning something and orders flowed between the palace and his tumans. His warriors were exercising on the plains each day, practising with cannon until the whole city stank of gunpowder. Sorhatani had a man willing to read the messages on the yam, but they were often sealed. He would open them if she demanded it, but it would mean his life and she would not throw him away lightly. The very fact that something was secret should have told her much, but she felt as if she wandered through fog. Kublai might have learned something, she thought, or at least be better able to guess. She resolved to speak to him that evening.

She and Torogene looked up as they heard the footsteps of Guyuk’s Day Guards. Torogene rose with a sigh, looking into the distance as if she could carry the memory of the city with her. As the Guards stood impassively, she and Sorhatani embraced. Carts, horses and servants waited to take her to the distant palace on the Orkhon river. Summer itself was passing and Sorhatani did not think her friend would be allowed to return. Guyuk had not been able to hide his pleasure at the orders, for all he couched them in fine words and compliments.

‘I will visit you,’ Sorhatani said, struggling with emotion. She could not promise to keep Torogene informed, not with men listening who would report every word said between them. Torogene smiled, though her eyes were shining with tears. She had raised her son to be khan and her reward was exile, no matter what Guyuk called it. Lies and alliances, it was all the city seemed to breed from its arid stones. Sorhatani watched Torogene walk away with the men, a frail, stooped figure against their youth and strength. Sorhatani was suddenly afraid that one of her own protectors had been removed. For all his hunts and debauchery, Guyuk was intent on consolidating his power. She could not find peace when she thought of the future. She could not even return to the homeland, unless Guyuk gave his permission. It was as if she slept with a hungry tiger in the same room, never knowing when it might leap and tear her apart.

In the distance, she heard the crack of cannons firing and she started slightly. Mongke would be out there on the field, supervising his men as they practised the skills of war. Sorhatani sent a silent prayer for her sons to be safe under this new khan.

Guyuk strode through the empty corridors. He knew he was terrifying the palace servants with his order that they stay out of his sight. Days before, he had stumbled over one young woman too slow to get out of his way. He had snapped the command without thinking. They were too used to stately progress: the pace of older men and particularly his father. He had intended to let his new orders stand for just a few days until they had learned to jump when he appeared. Instead, he had found it gave him great amusement to see men and women scurrying away at every turn, convinced their lives were at stake if he so much as glimpsed them.

He increased his pace, grinning as servants darted into side rooms far ahead, word passing quickly that the khan was on the prowl. Without pausing, he pushed open the copper doors and entered his audience room.

Sorhatani was there, as well as Yao Shu, his father’s old chancellor. A dozen others waited their turn and tried not to show that they had been in that room for half a day before the khan bothered to show himself. Guyuk ignored them all and walked across the stone floor to a gilded chair, set with stones of lapis lazuli so that it glittered in the light from the windows. At least the air was freshened by a breeze from outside. He had become accustomed to Chin habits of bathing and the stink of unwashed flesh could make him retch in close rooms.

Sorhatani studied every detail of the entrance he had made, controlling her expression carefully. She could have spoken first, but she and Yao Shu had agreed an order in the hours of waiting. Again, she felt the sting of insult, as if she had no other work than to wait on Guyuk while he played games with servants. None of that could be allowed to show. She had to remember his word was law, that he could take her lands or her life at the first sign of anger in her face. Perhaps it was better that Yao Shu should open the proceedings. The old man had perfected his court manner and it was rare that she could see the emotions beneath it.

‘My lord khan,’ Yao Shu began, approaching Guyuk and bowing deeply. He held a sheaf of parchments and Guyuk eyed them with distaste. ‘There are a great number of things that only the khan can decide.’ Guyuk looked as if he might respond, but Yao Shu went straight on before he could speak. ‘The governor of eastern Koryo requests a tuman be sent to repel the sea thieves who are raiding his coast. This is the third time he has sent emissaries to Karakorum.’ Yao Shu paused for breath, but Guyuk only settled himself more comfortably in the seat.

‘Go on, Yao Shu, what else?’ Guyuk asked pleasantly.

‘We have tumans in the Chin territories, my lord. Shall I send word on the yam that they can go to his aid?’

Guyuk waved a hand. ‘Very well, send two. What else?’

Yao Shu blinked to find Guyuk in this odd mood. He went on quickly, determined to take advantage while he could.

‘The … um, Xi Xia governor claims that taxes have been set too high for his region. There has been a plague in the countryside there and he has lost perhaps half of those who work the fields. He asks for a year without taxes to rebuild.’

‘No, he is my vassal.’

‘My lord, if we could make a gesture, he would be a stronger ally in the future.’

‘And have every small man crying at my doors as a result. I have said no, chancellor. Move on to the next.’

Yao Shu nodded, shuffling his papers quickly.

‘I have more than eighty requests for marriage here, my lord.’

‘Put them aside. I will read them in my chambers. Are there any of special note?’

‘No, my lord,’ Yao Shu replied.

‘Then go on.’