‘There are those who would not see that as a compliment.’
‘Fools! I have no time for fools. How many of these horses do I keep?’ asked the Nadir, scanning the six ponies.
‘All of them,’ said Tenaka.
‘Why so generous?’
‘It stops me having to kill you,’ Tenaka told him. The words moved through Subodai like ice knives but he forced a grin and returned the cool stare of Tenaka’s violet eyes. In them Subodai saw knowledge, and it frightened him. Tenaka knew of his plan to rob and kill him – as sure as goats grew horns, he knew.
Subodai shrugged. ‘I would have waited until after my bond was completed,’ he said.
‘I know that. Come, let us ride.’
Subodai shuddered; the man was not human. He gazed at the ponies – still, human or not, he was growing rich in Tenaka’s presence.
For four days they moved north, skirting villages and communities, but on the fifth day their food ran out and they rode into a village of tents nestling by a mountain river. The community was a small one, no more than forty men. Originally they had been of the Doublehair tribe far to the north-east, but a split had developed and now they were Notas – ‘No Tribe,’ and fair game for all. They greeted the travellers with care, not knowing if they were part of a larger group. Tenaka could see their minds working – the Nadir law of hospitality meant that no harm could come to visitors while they stayed in your camp. But once out on the Steppes . . .
‘Are you far from your people?’ asked the Notas leader, a burly warrior with a scarred face.
‘I am never far from my people,’ Tenaka answered him, accepting a bowl of raisins and some dried fruit.
‘Your man is a Spear,’ said the leader.
‘We were pursued by Pack-rats,’ answered Tenaka. ‘We slew them and took their ponies. It is a sad thing for Nadir to kill Nadir.’
‘But it is the way of the world,’ commented the leader.
‘Not in Ulric’s day.’
‘Ulric is long dead.’
‘Some say he will rise again,’ observed Tenaka.
‘Men will always say that about kings of greatness. Ulric is forgotten meat and dusty bones.’
‘Who leads the Wolves?’ asked Tenaka.
‘Are you Wolfshead then?’
‘I am what I am. Who leads the Wolves?’
‘You are Bladedancer.’
‘Indeed I am.’
‘Why have you come back to the Steppes?’
‘Why does the salmon swim upstream?’
‘To die,’ said the leader, smiling for the first time.
‘All things die,’ observed Tenaka. ‘Once the desert in which we sit was an ocean. Even the ocean died when the world fell. Who leads the Wolves?’
‘Saddleskull is the Khan. So he says. But Knifespeaks has an army of eight thousand. The tribe has split.’
‘So, now it is not only Nadir who kills Nadir, but Wolf who rends Wolf?’
‘The way of the world,’ said the leader once more.
‘Which is the nearest?’
‘Saddleskull. Two days north-east.’
‘I will rest here with you tonight. Tomorrow I will go to him.’
‘He will kill you, Bladedancer!’
‘I am a hard man to kill. Tell that to your young men.’
‘I hear you.’ The leader rose to leave the tent but stopped at the flap. ‘Have you come home to rule?’
‘I have come home.’
‘I am tired of being Notas,’ said the man.
‘My journey is perilous,’ Tenaka told him. ‘As you say, Saddleskull would desire my death. You have few men.’
‘In the coming war we will be destroyed by one or other faction,’ said the man. ‘But you – you have the look of eagles about you. I will follow you, if you desire it.’
A sense of calm settled over Tenaka. An inner peace seemed to pulse from the very earth at his feet, from the distant blue mountains, to whisper in the long grass of the Steppes. He closed his eyes and opened his ears to the music of silence. Every nerve in his body seemed on edge as the land cried out to him.
Home!
After forty years Tenaka Khan had learned the meaning of the word.