‘But I can, Great Khan. I will travel to the south, and then journey home. With your permission, of course?’
Jungir’s face darkened, but his expression remained friendly. ‘It would not be advisable, ambassador. The lands of the Steppes are-. . . perilous for outsiders. Many tribes continue to harass . . . foreigners.’
‘I understand, sire. Even within the Middle Kingdom there are bandits and rogues who disobey the Emperor’s will. But I am sure my soldiers will be a match for them. And I much appreciate your concern over the safety of a humble ambassador.’
Jungir gave a tight smile and stepped back to the dais. ‘Quarters will be allocated to you, ambassador, and my chamberlain will furnish you with the guides and supplies you will need for your journey. And now I have matters of state to occupy me.’
Chien bowed – but not low. He straightened. ‘I cannot thank you sufficiently, sire, for the time you have allowed me.’ He backed seven paces, instead of ten, and turned.
As the great doors swung shut Jungir turned to a broad-shouldered warrior at his side. ‘You will guide them south for a week. Then there will be an attack on them. No one survives. You understand, Kubai?’
‘I do, sire.’
‘And see that they do not move around in the palace. I want no one to mention the yellow-faced bitch.’
‘As you wish, Lord Khan.’
*
The chamberlain led Chien through the maze of tunnels to three large, square adjoining rooms. Windows in the west walls looked out over an exquisitely ugly garden of shrubs. In the first room was a bed, four chairs, a table and three lanterns. The second contained only a narrow bed and a single lantern, while the third boasted a metal bath, three barrels of water and several thin towels.
‘It is almost too luxurious,’ said Chien, without a hint of mockery. The chamberlain gave a thin-lipped smile and left. Chien turned to his manservant, Oshi, a wiry ex-slave who had served Chien’s family for forty years. ‘Find the spy-holes,’ ordered Chien, using an obscure Kiatze dialect. Oshi bowed and moved around the room for several minutes.
‘There are none, lord,’ said Oshi finally.
‘Is there no end to their insults?’ snapped Chien. ‘Do they feel I am not important enough to spy on?’
‘They are savages, lord.’
‘Go and find where they have put Sukai and the others. Send Sukai to me.’
‘At once, lord. Or should I prepare your bath first?’
‘I will bathe tomorrow. I would not put it past these Nadir to have urinated in the water-barrels.’ Oshi chuckled and left the room. Chien pulled a linen handkerchief from his pocket and dusted one of the chairs. A dark shape scuttled across the room behind him and Chien swivelled, his hand snapping a small throwing-knife from his sleeve. The blade flashed across the room and the black rat died instantly, almost cut in half.
Minutes later, as Chien stood at the window staring down at the grey-green shrubs in what passed for a royal garden, there came a discreet tap at the door.
‘Enter!’ he commanded.
Sukai marched into the room and bowed as low as his lacquered leather breastplate would allow. The officer carried his iron helm against his chest. He was neither tall nor especially formidable in appearance, yet his skill with the long, curved chantanai blade was known throughout the Middle Kingdom. He had served Chien for eleven years – and not once in that time had Chien seen him without his hair combed, oiled and lacquered. Now it was hanging lank about his shoulders.
‘Why do you come here looking like the basest peasant?’ asked Chien, still using the Kiatze dialect.
‘A thousand apologies, noble lord,’ Sukai replied. ‘I was preparing for my bath – I did not think you would wish to wait for me to dress properly.’
‘You are correct in that, Sukai. But it was improper to prepare to bathe without first ascertaining whether I had need of you. However, in a city of barbarians it is difficult to retain hold of civilised behaviour. Have you checked your room?’
‘I have, lord. There are no passageways hidden, and no secret hearing tubes.’