Wolf of the Plains. Conn Iggulden

of a lesser family. With a frown on his face, Koke was forced to wait for his guests, or arrive at his destination without them. Temujin might have applauded the subtle way his father had turned the little game of status to his advantage. Instead of hurrying along after the younger man, they had made the trip a tour of the Olkhun’ut gers. Yesugei even spoke to one or two of the people, but never with a question they might not have answered, only with a compliment or a simple remark. The Olkhun’ut stared after the pair of Wolves and Temujin sensed his father was enjoying the tensions as much as a battle.

      By the time they stopped outside a ger with a bright blue door, Koke was irritated with them both, though he could not exactly have said why.

      ‘Is your father well?’ Yesugei said.

      The young warrior was forced to pause as he ducked into the ger. ‘He is as strong as ever,’ Koke replied.

      Yesugei nodded. ‘Tell him I am here,’ he said, looking blandly at his nephew by marriage.

      Koke coloured slightly before disappearing into the darkness within. Though there were eyes and ears all around them, Temujin and Yesugei had been left alone.

      ‘Observe the courtesies when we go in,’ Yesugei murmured. ‘These are not the families you know. They will notice every fault and rejoice in it.’

      ‘I understand,’ Temujin replied, barely moving his lips. ‘How old is my cousin Koke?’

      ‘Thirteen or fourteen,’ Yesugei replied.

      Temujin looked up with interest. ‘So he is alive only because you shot his father in the hip and not the heart?’

      Yesugei shrugged. ‘I did not shoot for the hip. I shot to kill, but I had only an instant to loose the shaft before your mother’s other brother threw an axe at me.’

      ‘Is he here as well?’ Temujin asked, looking round.

      Yesugei chuckled. ‘Not unless he managed to put his head back on.’

      Temujin fell silent as he considered this. The Olkhun’ut had no reason to love his father and many to hate him, yet he sent his sons to them for wives. The certainties he had known among his own people were vanishing and he felt lost and fearful. Temujin drew on his determination with an effort, composing his features into the cold face. Bekter had withstood his year with the tribe, after all. They would not kill him and anything else was bearable, he was almost certain.

      ‘Why has he not come out?’ he murmured to his father.

      Yesugei grunted, breaking off from staring at some young Olkhun’ut women milking goats.

      ‘He makes us wait because he thinks I will be insulted. He made me wait when I came with Bekter two years ago. No doubt he will make me wait when I come with Khasar. The man is an idiot, but all dogs bark at a wolf.’

      ‘Why do you visit him first, then?’ Temujin said, dropping his voice even lower.

      ‘The blood tie brings me safe amongst them. It galls them to welcome me, but they give your mother honour by doing it. I play my part, and my sons have wives.’

      ‘Will you see their khan?’ Temujin asked.

      Yesugei shook his head. ‘If Sansar sees me, he will be forced to offer his tents and women for as long as I am here. He will have gone hunting, as I would if he came to the Wolves.’

      ‘You like him,’ Temujin said, watching his father’s face closely.

      ‘The man has honour enough not to pretend he is a friend when he is not. I respect him. If I ever decide to take his herds, I will let him keep a few sheep and a woman or two, perhaps even a bow and a good cloak against the cold.’

      Yesugei smiled at the thought, gazing back at the girls tending their bleating flock. Temujin wondered if they knew the wolf was already amongst them.

      The inside of the ger was gloomy and thick with the smell of mutton and sweat. As Temujin ducked low to pass under the lintel, it occurred to him for the first time just how vulnerable a man was as he went into another family’s home. Perhaps the small doors had another function apart from keeping out the winter.

      The ger had carved wooden beds and chairs around the edges, with a small stove in the middle. Temujin felt vaguely disappointed at the ordinary look of the interior, though his sharp eyes noticed a beautiful bow on the far wall, double curved and layered in horn and sinew. He wondered if he would have the chance to practise his archery with the Olkhun’ut. If they forbade him weapons for the full turn of seasons, he might well lose the skills he had worked so hard to gain.

      Koke stood with his head respectfully bowed, but another man rose as Yesugei came to greet him, standing a head shorter than the khan of the Wolves.

      ‘I have brought another son to you, Enq,’ Yesugei said formally. ‘The Olkhun’ut are friends to the Wolves and do us great honour with strong wives.’

      Temujin watched his uncle in fascination. His mother’s brother. It was strange to think of her growing up around this very ger, riding a sheep, perhaps, as the babies sometimes did.

      Enq was a thin spear of a man, his flesh tight on his bones, so that the lines of his shaven skull could be easily seen. Even in the dark ger, his skin shone with grease, with just one thick lock of grey hair hanging from his scalp between his eyes. The glance he gave Temujin was not welcoming, though he gripped Yesugei’s hand in greeting and his wife prepared salted tea to refresh them.

      ‘Is my sister well?’ Enq said as the silence swelled around them.

      ‘She has given me a daughter,’ Yesugei replied. ‘Perhaps you will send an Olkhun’ut son to me one day.’

      Enq nodded, though the idea did not seem to please him.

      ‘Has the girl you found for my elder son come into her blood?’ Yesugei asked.

      Enq grimaced over his tea. ‘Her mother says that she hasn’t,’ he replied. ‘She will come when she is ready.’ He seemed about to speak again and then shut his mouth tight, so that the wrinkles around his lips deepened.

      Temujin perched himself on the edge of a bed, taking note of the fine quality of the blankets. Remembering what his father had said, he took the bowl of tea he was offered in his right hand, his left cupping his right elbow in the traditional style. No one could have faulted his manners in front of the Olkhun’ut.

      They settled themselves and drank the liquid in silence. Temujin began to relax.

      ‘Why has your son not greeted me?’ Enq asked Yesugei slyly.

      Temujin stiffened as his father frowned. He put aside the bowl and rose once more. Enq stood with him and Temujin was pleased to find he was the man’s equal in height.

      ‘I am honoured to meet you, uncle,’ he said. ‘I am Temujin, second son to the khan of Wolves. My mother sends you her greetings. Are you well?’

      ‘I am, boy,’ Enq replied. ‘Though I see you have yet to learn the courtesies of our people.’

      Yesugei cleared his throat softly and Enq closed his mouth over whatever he had been going to add. Temujin did not miss the flash of irritation in the older man’s eyes. He had been plunged into an adult world of subtlety and games and once more he began to dread the moment when his father would leave him behind.

      ‘How is your hip?’ Yesugei murmured.

      Enq’s thin mouth tightened as he forced a smile. ‘I never think of it,’ he replied.

      Temujin noticed that he moved stiffly as he took his seat once more and felt a private pleasure. He did not have to like these strange people. He understood that this too was a test, like everything else Yesugei set his sons. He would endure.

      ‘Is there a wife for him, in the gers?’ Yesugei asked.

      Enq grimaced, draining the dregs of his tea bowl and holding it out to be refilled.

      ‘There