Subodai and Gitasi ran to the fire, where Tenaka Khan was quietly finishing his supper.
‘Why?’ asked Subodai. ‘Why did they not kill us?’
Tenaka grinned, then yawned theatrically. ‘I am tired. I will sleep now.’
Out in the valley beyond, Ingis was being asked the same question by his son, Sember.
‘I cannot explain it,’ said Ingis. ‘You would not understand.’
‘Make me understand! He is a half-blood with a rag-tag following of Notas scum. And he did not even ask you to follow him.’
‘Congratulations, Sember! Most of the time you cannot grasp the simplest subtlety, but on this occasion you surpass yourself.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It is simple. You have stumbled on the very reasons why I did not kill him. Here is a man with no chance of success, faced by a warlord with twenty thousand warriors under his banner. Yet he did not ask for my help. Ask yourself why.’
‘Because he is a fool.’
‘There are times, Sember, when I could believe your mother had a secret lover. Looking at you makes me wonder if it was one of my goats.’
19
Tenaka waited in darkness and silence as the sounds of movement in the small camp ceased. Then he lifted the flap of his tent and watched the sentries. Their eyes were scanning the trees around the camp and they were not interested in what went on within. Tenaka slid from the tent, hugging the moon shadows from the twisted trees as he silently edged into the deeper darkness of the woods.
Walking cautiously, he made his way for several miles, as the ground dipped and rose towards the distant hills. He cleared the edge of the wood some three hours before dawn and slowly began to climb. Far below, and to the right, lay the marble-covered tomb of Ulric – and the armies of Knifespeaks and Saddleskull.
Civil war was inevitable and Tenaka had hoped to convince whoever was the Khan that it would be profitable to aid the Drenai rebels. Gold was a scarce commodity on the Steppes. Now things would have to be different.
He continued to climb until he saw a cliff face, pock-marked by caves. He had been here once before, many years ago when Jongir Khan had attended a shamen council. Then Tenaka had sat with Jongir’s children and grandchildren outside the caves while the Khan journeyed into the darkness. It was said that hideous rites were performed in these ancient places, and that no man could enter uninvited. The caves were, the shamen promised, the very gates of Hell where demons lurked at every corner.
Tenaka reached the mouth of the largest cave, where he hesitated, calming his mind.
There is no other way, he told himself.
And entered.
The darkness was total. Tenaka stumbled. He pushed on, hands stretched out before him.
As the caves wound on – twisting and turning, splitting and rejoining – Tenaka quelled the panic rising in him. It was like being in a honeycomb. He could wander lost in this blind gloom until he died of hunger and thirst.
He moved on, feeling his way along a cold wall. Suddenly the wall ended, cutting away at right-angles to his hand. Tenaka walked on, hands outstretched. Cool air touched his face. He stopped and listened. He had the impression of space all around him, but more than that he felt the presence of people.
‘I seek Asta Khan,’ he said, his voice booming in the cavern.
Silence.
A shuffling sound came from left and right of him and he stood still, folding his arms across his chest. Hands touched him, scores of hands. He felt his sword being drawn from its scabbard, his knife from its sheath. Then the hands withdrew.
‘Speak your name!’ commanded a voice as dry and hostile as a desert wind.
‘Tenaka Khan.’
‘You have been gone from us for many years.’
‘I have returned.’
‘Obviously.’
‘I did not leave willingly. I was sent from the Nadir.’
‘For your own protection. You would have been slain.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Why have you returned?’
‘That is not a simple question to answer.’
‘Then take your time.’
‘I came to aid a friend. I came to gather an army.’