Wolf of the Plains. Conn Iggulden

a more normal voice. He wanted to hear her speak again. In the darkness, he had noticed her voice was warm and low, sweeter without the distracting scrawniness and glaring eyes.

      ‘I thought you were escaping,’ she replied.

      She stood and he rose with her, unwilling to lose the closeness, though he could not have explained why.

      ‘I would have thought you’d be pleased to see me run,’ he said.

      ‘I … I don’t know. You haven’t said a kind word to me since you came to the families. Why should I want you to stay?’

      Temujin blinked. In just a few heartbeats they had said more to each other than in the days before. He did not want it to end.

      ‘Why did you stop me? Koke will run back to Enq and your father. When they find we’re gone, they’ll spread out to find us. It will be hard when they do.’

      ‘He is a fool, that one. But killing him would have been an evil thing.’

      In the darkness, he reached out blindly and found her arm. The touch comforted both of them and she spoke again to cover her confusion.

      ‘Your brother beat him almost to death, Temujin. He held him and kicked him until he cried like a child. He is afraid of you, so he hates you. It would be wrong to hurt him again. It would be like beating a dog after it has loosed its bladder. The spirit is already broken in him.’

      Temujin took a slow breath, letting it shudder out of him.

      ‘I did not know,’ he said, though many things had fallen into place at her words, like bones clicking in his memory. Koke had been vicious, but when Temujin thought about it, the older boy had a look in his eyes that was always close to fear. For an instant, he did not care and wished he had brought the stone down, but then Borte reached up and placed her hand against his cheek.

      ‘You are … strange, Temujin,’ she said. Before he could respond, she stepped away from him into the darkness.

      ‘Wait!’ he called after her. ‘We may as well walk back together.’

      ‘They will beat us both,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I will run away instead. Perhaps I will not go back at all.’

      He found he could not bear the thought of Sholoi hitting her and wondered what his father would say if he brought her back early to the gers of the Wolves.

      ‘Then come with me. We’ll take my horse and ride home.’

      He listened for her answer but it did not come.

      ‘Borte?’ he called.

      He broke into a run and passed back into the starlight with a pounding heart. He saw her darting figure already far ahead and increased his pace until he was flying across the grass. A memory came to him of being forced to run up and down hills with a mouthful of water, spitting it out at the end to show he had breathed through his nose in the proper way. He ran easily and without effort, his mind dwelling on the day ahead. He did not know what he could do, but he had found something valuable that night. Whatever happened, he knew he could not let her be hurt again. As he ran, he heard the lookouts sound their horns on the hills all around, calling an alarm to the warriors in the gers.

      The encampment was in chaos as Temujin reached it. Dawn was coming, but torches had been lit, spreading a greasy yellow light that revealed running figures. On the outskirts, he was challenged twice by nervous men carrying drawn bows. The warriors were already mounted and milled around, raising dust and confusion. To Temujin’s eye, there seemed no focus to it, no centre of authority. If it had been the Wolves, he knew his father would be dominating the scene, sending the warriors out to protect the herds from raiders. He saw for the first time what Yesugei had seen. The Olkhun’ut had many fine bowmen and hunters, but they were not organised for war.

      He saw Enq hobbling through the gers and Temujin took him by the arm. With an angry sound, Enq shook himself free, then started, reaching out to hold Temujin in turn.

      ‘He’s here!’ Enq shouted.

      Temujin struck out from instinct, shoving his uncle onto his back to break his grip. He had a glimpse of warriors moving towards him, and before he could run, he was held in strong hands and practically carried across the bare ground. He fell limp then, as if he had fainted, hoping that they would relax their hold for a heartbeat and let him struggle free. It was a vain hope, but he could not understand what was happening and the men who held him were strangers. If he could reach a horse, he had a chance to get away from whatever punishment awaited him. They passed through a pool of torchlight and Temujin swallowed drily as he saw that his captors were bondsmen of the khan, grim and dark in boiled leather armour.

      Their master, Sansar, was a man Temujin had seen only from a distance in his days amongst the families. Despite himself, he struggled and one of the bondsmen cuffed him, making lights flash in his vision. They threw him down without ceremony at the door of the khan’s ger. Before he could enter, one of them searched him with rough efficiency, then propelled him through the opening to land flat on a floor of polished yellow wood, glowing gold in the light of torches.

      Outside, the whinnying of horses and shouts of the warriors continued, but Temujin rose to his knees into a scene of quiet tension. As well as the khan himself, there were three of his bondsmen standing guard with drawn swords. Temujin looked around at the faces of strangers, seeing anger and, to his surprise, more than a little fear. He might have stayed silent, but his gaze fell on a man he knew and he cried out in astonishment.

      ‘Basan! What has happened?’ he said, rising fully. The presence of his father’s bondsman sent a clutch of fear into his stomach.

      No one responded and Basan looked away in shame. Temujin remembered himself and flushed. He bowed his head to the khan of the Olkhun’ut.

      ‘My lord khan,’ he said, formally.

      Sansar was a slight figure, compared with the bulk of Eeluk or Yesugei. He stood with his arms folded behind his back, a sword on his hip. His expression was calm and Temujin sweated under the scrutiny. At last Sansar spoke, his voice clipped and hard.

      ‘Your father would be ashamed if he could see you with your mouth hanging open,’ he said. ‘Control yourself, child.’

      Temujin did as he was told, mastering his breathing and straightening his back. He counted to a dozen in his head, then raised his eyes once again.

      ‘I am ready, my lord.’

      Sansar nodded, his eyes weighing him.

      ‘Your father has been grievously wounded, child. He may die.’

      Temujin paled slightly, but his face remained impassive. He sensed a malice in the khan of the Olkhun’ut and was suddenly determined he would show no more weakness in front of him. Sansar said nothing, perhaps hoping for some reaction. When it did not come, he spoke again.

      ‘The Olkhun’ut share your distress. I will scour the plains for the wanderers who dared to attack a khan. They will suffer greatly.’

      The brisk tone gave the lie to the sentiment. Temujin allowed himself a brief nod, though his mind reeled and he wanted to scream questions at the old snake who could barely hide his pleasure at his distress.

      Sansar seemed to find Temujin’s silence irritating. He glanced at Basan, who sat like a statue on his right.

      ‘It seems you will not complete your year with our people, child. This is a dangerous time, when threats are spoken that are better left unsaid. Still, it is right that you return to mourn your father.’

      Temujin clenched his jaw. He could not keep silence any longer.

      ‘Is he dying, then?’ he asked.

      Sansar hissed in a breath, but Temujin ignored him, turning to look at his father’s bondsman.

      ‘You will answer me when I ask, Basan!’ he said.

      The bondsman met his gaze then and raised his head a fraction, the tension