Empire of Silver

by Conn Iggulden

  Instead of simply being allowed to see the khan, to talk of the grief and loss they shared, she had been stopped by a Chin official with jowls and soft hands. What was Ogedai thinking in using such perfumed courtiers in his own palace? What sort of message of strength would that send to those less benign than Sorhatani?

  The courtier had stopped her once, but today all four of her sons were with her. She would see Ogedai today! No matter his sorrow, she could share it. The khan had lost a brother, but she had lost her husband, the father to her sons. If there had ever been a time when Ogedai could be persuaded of anything, it was then. The idea was intoxicating. A man with as much power as Genghis lay in his rooms like a broken reed. The palace was full of rumours that he hardly even spoke or ate. Whoever reached him could surely have whatever they wanted, yet he had given orders to keep visitors away. Well, she would tell him how the insult had hurt her and begin the negotiations with that. One last corner lay ahead in the labyrinth of the palace corridors. She passed under painted murals without looking up, her concentration focused on more important things.

  The final corridor was a long one and in the stone halls the footsteps of her group echoed back. Though she saw there were men and Guards in front of the polished copper door, Sorhatani stormed on, forcing her sons to keep up. Let the fat little courtier sweat when he heard her coming. The khan was her brother-in-law, ill and weak in sadness. How dare a Chin eunuch bar her entry to her own family?

  As she approached, she looked in vain for the brightcoloured silks the man preferred. She almost missed a step as she saw Yao Shu was there in his place. There was no sign of the man with whom she had argued that very morning. Yao Shu had turned to face her, his attitude clear from his stance. Sorhatani revised her plan as she went, shedding anger like a snakeskin with every step.

  By the time she reached the shining metal door, she was walking at a normal pace and smiled as sweetly as she knew how at the khan’s chancellor. Still, she seethed to have another Chin stop her at the door, especially one with such authority. Yao Shu could not be browbeaten into submission, nor threatened. She did not have to look at her younger sons to know they were cowed by the man who had tutored them. At one time or other, Yao Shu had thrashed all four of the boys for some transgression. He had beaten Kublai like a rug when the boy put a scorpion in the chancellor’s boot.

  Now he faced her, his face as forbidding as the Guards at his sides.

  ‘The khan is not receiving visitors today, Sorhatani. I am sorry you came across the city. I did send a runner at dawn to warn you not to come.’

  Sorhatani hid her irritation behind a smile. Giving her a house well away from the palace was another sign of voices other than Ogedai’s at work. The khan would have given her rooms in the palace if he knew she had come, she was certain.

  Sorhatani rose to the challenge in Yao Shu’s impassive face.

  ‘What plot is this?’ she hissed at him. ‘Have you murdered the khan, Yao Shu? How is it that only Chin men seem to roam the corridors of Karakorum these days?’

  As Yao Shu took a breath in shock, she spoke to her sons without looking away from the chancellor.

  ‘Ready your swords, Mongke, Kublai. I do not trust this man any longer. He claims the khan will not see the wife of his beloved brother.’

  She heard the jingle of metal behind her, but more importantly, she saw the sudden doubt come into the faces of the Mongol Guards on either side of Yao Shu.

  ‘The khan has an army of servants, scribes, concubines and wives.’ she said. ‘Yet where is his wife Torogene? Why is she not here to tend him in his illness? How is it that I can find no one who can say they have seen him alive for days, even weeks?’

  It thrilled her to see Yao Shu’s unnatural control crack at the accusations. He was immediately flustered, off balance as her words struck.

  ‘The khan has been very ill, as you say,’ he replied. ‘He has asked for quiet in his palace. I am his chancellor, Sorhatani. It is not up to me to say where his family has gone, or to discuss it in a corridor.’

  She saw that he was truly struggling with difficult orders and she pressed on, sensing the weak point of the man’s essential kindness.

  ‘You say the family have gone, Yao Shu? Guyuk is with Tsubodai. I do not know Ogedai’s daughters, or the children of other wives. Torogene is not here then?’

  His eyes flickered at the simple question.

  ‘I see,’ she went on. ‘The summer palace perhaps, on the Orkhon river. Yes, that is where I would have sent her if I intended to steal power in this city, Yao Shu. If I intended to murder the khan in his bed and replace him with who? His brother Chagatai? He would be here in an instant. Is that your plan? What lies beyond this door, Yao Shu? What have you done?’

  Her voice had risen, louder and higher. Yao Shu winced at the strident tone, but he was at a loss. He could not have the Guards take her away by force, not with her sons ready to defend their mother. The first one to lay a hand on Sorhatani would lose it, that much was obvious. Mongke in particular was no longer the sullen boy he had known. Yao Shu deliberately kept his eyes on Sorhatani, but he could feel Mongke staring coldly at him, daring him to meet his gaze.

  ‘I must follow the orders I have been given, Sorhatani,’ Yao Shu tried again. ‘No one is to pass through this door. No one is to be granted an audience with the khan. He does not have to answer to you and neither do I. Now please, spend the day in the city, rest and eat. Perhaps he will see you tomorrow.’

  Sorhatani tensed as if to attack him. Yet Yao Shu had not been made weak with his duties. Her sons had told her how he snatched an arrow from the bowstring in the palace gardens. It seemed an age ago, when her husband was still alive. She felt tears start in her eyes and blinked them away. This was a time for anger, not sorrow. She knew if she let herself start weeping, she would not pass the door that day.

  She took a deep breath. ‘Murder!’ she shouted. ‘The khan is in danger! Come quickly!’

  ‘There is no danger!’ Yao Shu shouted over her. The woman was insane! What did she hope to gain, yelling like a scalded cat in his corridors? He heard running footsteps coming closer and cursed her under his breath. The night before Ogedai had become khan was still a painful memory among the Guards. They reacted to any perceived threat with a massive show of force.

  In just a few heartbeats, the corridor was blocked at both ends by sprinting warriors. They were led by minghaans in black and red lacquered armour, their swords already drawn. Yao Shu held up both hands with palms clearly open and empty.

  ‘There has been a mistake…’ he began.

  ‘No mistake, Alkhun,’ Sorhatani snapped, turning to the senior man.

  Yao Shu groaned to himself. Of course she knew the officer’s name. Sorhatani had a prodigious memory for such things, but it was probably part of her plan to learn the names of the officers of the watch. The chancellor struggled for words that would rescue the situation.

  ‘The lady is distraught,’ he said.

  The minghaan officer ignored him and spoke to Sorhatani directly. ‘What is the difficulty here?’

  Sorhatani looked down, shaking her head. To Yao Shu’s irritation, there were tears showing in her eyes.

  ‘This Chin official claims the khan cannot be seen by anyone. For days now, there has been no word. He speaks suspiciously, Alkhun, I do not trust his word.’

  The soldier nodded, a man of quick thought and action, as would be expected for one of his rank. He turned to Yao Shu.

  ‘You’ll have to stand aside, chancellor. I need to check on the khan.’

  ‘He gave orders,’ Yao Shu started, but the officer merely shrugged.

  ‘I will see him. Step aside, right now.’

  The two men stood very still, glowering at each other as if they were the only ones in the corridor. Yao Shu had been put in an impossible position and Sorhatani saw there could be a brief and bloody struggle in the corridor at any moment. She spoke to break the deadlock.

 
‘You will accompany us, of course, Yao Shu,’ she said.

  His head snapped round towards her, but she had given him a way out and he took it.

  ‘Very well,’ he said, his expression tight with anger. He turned to Alkhun. ‘Your concern does you credit, minghaan. However, you are not to allow armed men such as these into the presence of the khan. All must be searched for weapons first.’

  Sorhatani began to protest, but Yao Shu was adamant.

  ‘I insist,’ he said, reclaiming the balance of power.

  ‘They will remain here,’ Sorhatani said, rather than lose the moment. In truth, she did not mind that her sons were to remain outside, with their armour and blades. They had served their purpose by backing her at the door. She did not need them to hear everything after that.

  With a grimace, Yao Shu lifted the small bar of brass that made the central lock. It was an ornate piece, carved and marked like a dragon curled around the centre of the door. Yet another sign of the Chin influence on the khan, Sorhatani thought as the door opened. A rush of wind chilled them all as she followed Yao Shu and Alkhun inside.

  There were no lamps lit, but dim light came from one open window. The shutters had been thrown back with such force that one of them lay askew, a hinge broken. Long silk curtains billowed into the room, rustling and snapping at the walls with each gust.

  The room was incredibly cold and their breath showed instantly as white mist. The outer door closed behind them and Sorhatani shivered as her eyes fell on the figure on a couch in the centre of the room. How could Ogedai withstand such a chill wearing only a thin silk tunic and leggings? His arms were bare and his feet looked bluish as he lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling.

  He had not acknowledged them and Yao Shu had a moment of dread that they had found the khan’s body. Then he saw pale mist rise from the still figure and he breathed again.

  For a moment, none of them were sure how to proceed. The minghaan officer had seen that the khan still lived. His task was at an end, though his dignity forbade him from simply leaving, at least until he had apologised for invading the khan’s privacy. Yao Shu too was quiet, guilty that he had failed in his orders. Sorhatani had manipulated them all.

  Of course she was the first to speak.

  ‘My lord khan,’ Sorhatani said. She pitched her voice to carry over the noise of the wind, but Ogedai did not react. ‘I have come to you in my grief, my lord.’

  Still there was nothing and Yao Shu watched with interest as she firmed her jaw, visibly controlling irritation. The chancellor motioned for her to be taken away and the officer raised a hand to take her arm.

  Sorhatani shrugged off the touch. ‘My husband gave his life for you, my lord. How will you use his gift? Like this? Waiting for death in a frozen room?’

  ‘That is enough,’ Yao Shu said, horrified.

  He took Sorhatani’s arm in a firm grip and turned her back towards the door. All three froze as they heard a creak behind them. The khan had risen from his couch. His hands shook slightly as they turned to face him and his skin was a sickly yellow, his eyes bloodshot.

  Under that cold gaze, the senior minghaan of the khan’s Guards knelt and dipped his head to the floor.

  ‘Rise, Alkhun,’ Ogedai said in a hoarse whisper. ‘Why are you here? Did I not say I was to be left alone?’

  ‘My lord khan, I am sorry. I was led to understand you might be ill or dying.’

  To his surprise, Ogedai smiled mirthlessly. ‘Or indeed both, Alkhun. Well, you have seen me. Now get out.’

  The officer moved with great speed to leave the room. Ogedai stared at his chancellor. He did not yet look at Sorhatani, though he had risen at her voice.

  ‘Leave me, Yao Shu,’ Ogedai said.

  His chancellor bowed deeply, then tightened his hold on Sorhatani’s arm as he began to guide her out.

  ‘My lord khan!’ she cried out.

  ‘Enough!’ Yao Shu snapped, yanking her. If he had released his grip, she would have fallen, but instead she swung around, helpless and furious.

  ‘Take your hands away,’ she hissed at him. ‘Ogedai! How can you see me attacked and do nothing? Did I not stand with you on the night of knives, in this very palace? My husband would have answered this insult. Where is he now? Ogedai!’

  She was in the doorway when the khan replied.

  ‘You are dismissed, Yao Shu. Let her approach.’

  ‘My lord,’ he began, ‘she…’

  ‘Let her approach.’

  Sorhatani shot a look of pure venom at the chancellor as she rubbed her arm and stood straight. Yao Shu bowed again and left the room without looking back, his face cold and emotionless. The door clanged softly behind him and she breathed slowly, hiding her delight. She was in. It had been close and even dangerous, but she had won through to the khan, alone.

  Ogedai watched her come. He felt guilt, but he met her eyes. Before she could speak again, footsteps sounded, and a clinking of glass and metal. Sorhatani paused at the sight of the khan’s manservant Baras’aghur carrying a tray into the room.

  ‘I have a visitor, Baras,’ Ogedai murmured.

  The servant stared at Sorhatani with open hostility.

  ‘The khan is not well. You should come back another time.’

  He spoke with the confidence of a trusted man, his service to the khan beyond dispute. Sorhatani smiled at him, wondering if he had taken on a more motherly role during the khan’s illness. He certainly seemed happy fussing around Ogedai.

  When she did not move, Baras’aghur tightened his lips and set the tray down by his master with a gentle clinking. Then he faced her.

  ‘The khan is not well enough for visitors,’ he insisted, a little too loudly.

  Sorhatani saw his growing indignation, so she spoke louder still. ‘Thank you for the tea, Baras’aghur. I will serve the khan in your place. You do remember your place?’

  The servant spluttered for a moment, looking to Ogedai. When the khan said nothing, Baras’aghur bowed with icy dislike and left the room. Sorhatani added a sprinkling of brown salt to the steaming golden liquid, salt that was so precious for life. Finally, she added milk from a tiny jug, its surface smooth in her hands. Her fingers were quick and sure.

  ‘Serve me,’ Ogedai said.

  Gracefully, she knelt before him and held out the cup, bowing her head.

  ‘I am yours to command, my lord khan,’ she said.

  She shivered slightly at the touch of his hands as he took it from her. He was like ice in that room where the wind blew constantly. From under lowered eyelids, she could see his face was mottled and dark, as if there were bruises deep within. Up close, his feet were veined like marble. His eyes were pale yellow as they regarded her. He sipped the tea, the plume of steam whipped away in the breeze.

  Sorhatani settled herself, kneeling at his feet and looking up into his face.

  ‘Thank you for sending me my son,’ she said. ‘It was a comfort to me to hear the worst from him.’

  Ogedai looked away from her. He changed the cup from one hand to another as its heat burned his frozen flesh. He wondered if she knew how beautiful she was, kneeling with her back so straight and the wind snatching at her hair. It looked like a living thing and he watched in silence, mesmerised. Since his return to Karakorum, he had not spoken of Tolui’s death. He could feel Sorhatani edging towards the subject and he shrank back physically on the low couch, cradling the cup as his only warmth. He could not explain the lassitude and weakness that beset his days. Months fled from him without his notice and the challenges of the khanate went unanswered. He could not rouse himself from the dim dawns and sunsets. He waited for death and cursed its slowness in coming.

  Sorhatani could hardly believe the changes in Ogedai. He had left Karakorum full of life, constantly drunk and laughing. Fresh from the triumph of becoming khan, he had gone with his elite tumans to secure the Chin borders, thriving on a difficult task in the field. Recalling those days was like looking back on youth. The man
who had returned had aged visibly, deep wrinkles appearing on his forehead and around his eyes and mouth. The pale eyes no longer reminded her of Genghis. There was no spark there, no sense of danger in the quiet gaze. It would not do.

  ‘My husband was in good health,’ she said suddenly. ‘He would have lived for many years, seen his sons grow into fine men. Perhaps he would have had other children, taken more wives. In time, he would have been a grandfather. I like to think of the joy he would have taken in those years.’

  Ogedai shrank back as if she had attacked him, but she went on without hesitating, her voice firm and clear so that he could hear every word.

  ‘He had a sense of duty that is too rare today, my lord khan. He believed the nation came before his health, his life. He believed in something greater than himself, or my happiness, or even the lives of his sons. Your father’s vision, my lord, that a nation can spring from the tribes of the plains, that they can find a place of their own in the world. That they deserve such a place.’

  ‘I…I have said that he…’ Ogedai began.

  Sorhatani interrupted him and, for an instant, anger showed in his eyes before it faded.

  ‘He threw his future into the wind, but not just for you, my lord. He loved you, but it was not just for love. It was also for his father’s will and dreams; do you understand?’

  ‘Of course I understand,’ Ogedai said wearily.

  Sorhatani nodded, but went on. ‘He gave you life, a second father to you. But not just for you. For those who come after you, in his father’s line, for the nation to come, the warriors who are children yet, the children who will be born.’

  He gestured with his hand, trying to fend off her words. ‘I am tired now, Sorhatani. Perhaps it would be best…’

  ‘And how did you use this most precious gift?’ Sorhatani whispered. ‘You send your wife away, you leave your chancellor to roam an empty palace. Your Guards are left to make trouble in the city on their own, untended. Two of them were hanged yesterday – did you know that? They murdered a butcher for a haunch of beef. Where is the breath of the khan on their necks, the sense that they are in the nation? Is it in this room, in this freezing wind, while you sit alone?’