Conqueror: The Complete 5-Book Collection. Conn Iggulden

so far to the north-west that they could not understand more than a few words of what he said. Still, they had come.

      ‘Every day brings more of them, with two moons left of summer,’ Genghis said, looking round proudly at men who had been with him since the first days. At fifty years of age, Arslan was growing old after the years of war. He and his son Jelme had come to Genghis when he had nothing but his wits and his three brothers. Both had remained utterly loyal through hard years and Genghis had let them prosper and take wives and wealth. Genghis nodded to the swordsmith who had become his general, pleased to see the man’s back as straight as ever.

      Temuge did not attend their discussions, even when he was well. Of all the brothers, he had shown no aptitude for tactics. Genghis loved him, but he could not trust him to lead others. He shook his head, realising that his thoughts were wandering. He too was weary, though he would not allow it to show.

      ‘Some of the new tribes have never even heard of the Chin,’ Kachiun said. ‘The ones who came this morning dress like nothing I’ve ever seen. They are not Mongols, as we are.’

      ‘Perhaps,’ Genghis said. ‘But I will make them welcome. Let them prove themselves in war before we judge them. They are not Tartars, or blood enemies to any man here. At least I will not be called to untangle some grudge going back a dozen generations. They will be useful.’

      He took a draught from a rough clay cup, smacking his lips at the bitterness of the black airag.

      ‘Be wary in the camp, my brothers. They have come because not to come invites us to destroy them. They do not trust us yet. Many of them know only my name and nothing else.’

      ‘I have men listening at every fire,’ Kachiun said. ‘There will always be some who seek an advantage in such a gathering. Even as we speak here, there will be a thousand other conversations discussing us. Even whispers will be heard. I will know if I have to act.’

      Genghis nodded to his brother, proud of him. Kachiun had grown into a stocky man with an immense breadth of shoulder from his bow practice. They shared a bond that Genghis could claim with no one else, not even Khasar.

      ‘Still, my back itches when I walk through the camp. While we wait, they grow restless, but there are more to come and I cannot move yet. The Uighurs alone will be valuable. Those who are already here may test us, so be ready and let no insult go unpunished. I will trust you in your judgement, even if you throw a dozen heads at my feet.’

      The generals in the ger met each other’s eyes without smiling. For every man they had brought to the great plain, two more had come. The advantage they held was that not one of the strongest khans knew the extent of their support. Anyone riding into the shadow of the black mountain saw a single host and gave no thought to the fact that it was composed of a hundred different factions, watching each other in mutual mistrust.

      Genghis yawned at last.

      ‘Get some sleep, my brothers,’ he said wearily. ‘Dawn is close and the herds have to be moved to new grass.’

      ‘I will look in on Temuge before I sleep,’ Kachiun said.

      Genghis sighed.

      ‘Let us hope the sky father makes him well. I cannot lose my only sensible brother.’

      Kachiun snorted, throwing open the small door to the outside air. When they had all left, Genghis rose, cracking the stiffness out of his neck with a swift jerk of his hands. His family ger was nearby, though his sons would be asleep. It was one more night when he would thump into the blankets without his family knowing he had come home.

       CHAPTER TWO

      Genghis eyed his younger brother with disquiet. Temuge had spent the morning telling anyone who would listen about the cure Kokchu had wrought. The camp was a stifling place despite its size and any news spread quickly. By noon, it would be in the mouths of the newest wanderers off the plains.

      ‘So how do you know it was not a strangled bit of gut?’ Genghis said, watching him. Temuge seemed to stand a little taller than usual in the family ger and his face was lit with excitement and something more. Whenever he mentioned Kokchu’s name, his voice would dip almost to a murmur. Genghis found his awe irritating.

      ‘I saw him pull it out of me, brother! It squirmed and writhed in his hand and I nearly vomited to see it. When it was gone, the pain went with it.’ Temuge touched his hand to the place and winced.

      ‘Not completely gone, then,’ Genghis noted.

      Temuge shrugged. The area above and below the bandage was a mass of purple and yellow, though it was already beginning to fade.

      ‘It was eating me alive before. This is no worse than a bruise.’

      ‘Yet you say there is no cut,’ Genghis said, wonderingly.

      Temuge shook his head, his excitement returning. He had explored the area with his fingers in the darkness before dawn. Under the tight cloth, he could feel a split in the muscle that was still incredibly tender. He felt sure it was from there the growth had been torn.

      ‘He has power, brother. More than any one of the charlatans we have seen before. I trust what I saw. You know the eyes do not lie.’

      Genghis nodded.

      ‘I will reward him with mares, sheep and new cloth. Perhaps a new knife and boots. I cannot have the man who saved my brother looking like a beggar.’

      Temuge winced in sudden doubt.

      ‘He did not want the story to get out, Genghis. If you reward him, everyone will know what he did.’

      ‘Everyone does know,’ Genghis replied. ‘Kachiun told me at dawn and three more have come to talk about it before I saw you. There are no secrets in this camp, you should know that.’

      Temuge nodded thoughtfully.

      ‘Then he cannot mind, or he will forgive if he does.’ He hesitated before going on, nervous under his brother’s gaze.

      ‘With your permission, I will learn from him. I think he would take me as a pupil and I have never felt such a desire to know …’ He broke off as Genghis frowned.

      ‘I had hoped you would resume your duties with the warriors, Temuge. Do you not want to ride with me?’

      Temuge flushed and looked at the floor.

      ‘You know as well as I do that I will never be a great officer. Perhaps I could learn to be competent, but the men will always know I was raised for my blood and not my skill. Let me learn from this Kokchu. I do not think he would be unwilling.’

      Genghis sat perfectly still as he considered. Temuge had more than once been the subject of mirth in the tribes. His archery was abysmal and he won no respect with his red-faced efforts with a sword. He could see his youngest brother was trembling, his face tight with fear that Genghis would refuse. Temuge was out of place in the tribes and there had been many evenings when Genghis had wished for him to find something he could do. Yet he was reluctant to let him go so easily. Men like Kokchu stood apart from the tribes. They were feared certainly, and that was good, but they were not part of the family. They were not made welcome and greeted as old friends. Genghis shook his head slightly. Temuge too had always been outside the tribes, a watcher. Perhaps this was the way his life would go.

      ‘On the condition that you practise with a blade and bow for two hours each day. Give your word on that and I will confirm your choice, your path.’

      Temuge nodded, smiling shyly.

      ‘I will. Perhaps I will be more useful to you as a shaman than I ever was as a warrior.’

      Genghis’ eyes became cold.

      ‘You