Genghis snorted at that, then bent over his saddle in a fit of coughing that left him gasping for air.

Kachiun spoke again as if he had not seen the weakness. "We cannot just bury the gold, brother. We should do something with it."

When Genghis was able to respond, he had lost the sharp reply he would have made. "You and I have walked down streets of Chin houses, Kachiun. Do you remember the smell? When I think of home, I think of clean streams and valleys soft with sweet grass, not a chance to pretend we are Chin nobles behind walls. Have we not shown that walls make you weak?" He gestured to the train of carts still coming out of Yenking to make his point. More than a thousand had left the city, and still he could see the line stretching back along the gate road inside.

"Then we will have no walls," Kachiun said. "Our walls will be the warriors you see around you, stronger than any construction of stone and lime paste."

Genghis looked at him quizzically. "I see Temuge has been persuasive," he said.

Kachiun looked away, embarrassed. "I do not care for his visions of market squares and bathhouses. But he talks of places of learning, of medicine men trained to heal the wounds of the warriors. He looks to a time when we are not at war. We have never had such things, but that does not mean we never should."

Both men stared at the lines of carts for a time. Even with every spare horse from the tumans, they would be hard pressed to move such a hoard. It was natural to dream of the possibilities.

"I can barely imagine peace," Genghis said. "I have never known it. All I want is to return home and recover from this illness that plagues me. To ride all day and grow strong again. Would you have me building cities on my plains?"

Kachiun shook his head. "Not cities. We are horsemen, brother. It will always be so. But perhaps a capital, one single city for the nation we have made. The way Temuge told it, I can imagine great training grounds for our men, a place for our children to live and never know the fear we knew."

"They would grow soft," Genghis said. "They would become as weak and useless as the Chin themselves, and one day someone else will come riding, hard and lean and dangerous. Then where will our people be?"

Kachiun looked over the tens of thousands of warriors who walked or rode through the vast camp. He smiled and shook his head. "We are wolves, brother, but even wolves need a place to sleep. I do not want Temuge's stone streets, but perhaps we can make a city of gers, one that we can move whenever the grazing has gone."

Genghis listened with more interest. "That is better. I will think about it, Kachiun. There will be time enough on the journey home, and as you say, we can hardly bury all this gold."

Thousands of slaves had come out with the carts by then, standing miserably in lines. Many were young boys and girls, given as property by the young emperor to the conquering khan.

"They could build it for us," Kachiun said, indicating them with a jerk of his hand. "And when you and I are old, we would have a quiet place to die."

"I have said I will think about it, brother. Who knows what lands Tsubodai, Jelme, and Khasar have found to conquer? Perhaps we will ride with them and never need a place to sleep that is not on a horse."

Kachiun smiled at his brother's words, knowing not to push him any further. "Look at all this," he said. "Do you remember when it was just us?" He did not need to add details. There had been a time for both of them when death was just a breath away and every man was an enemy.

"I remember," Genghis said. Against the images of their childhood, the plain with its carts and swarming warriors was awe inspiring. As he gazed across the scene, Genghis saw the figure of the emperor's first minister trotting toward him. He sighed to himself at the thought of another strained conversation with the man. The emperor's representative pretended goodwill, but his distaste for the tribes was evident in every shuddering glance. He was also nervous around horses and made them nervous in turn.

As Genghis watched, the Chin minister bowed deeply to him before unrolling a scroll.

"What is that?" Genghis asked in the Chin language before Ruin Chu could speak. Chakahai had taught him, rewarding his progress in inventive ways. The minister seemed flustered, but he recovered quickly.

"It is the tally of the tribute, my lord khan."

"Give it to my brother, Temuge. He will know what to do with it."

The minister flushed and began to roll the scroll into a tight tube. "I thought you would want to check the tribute is accurate, my lord," he said.

Genghis frowned at him. "I had not considered that anyone would be foolish enough to hold back what was promised, Ruin Chu. Are you saying your people have no honor?"

" No, my lord…" Ruin Chu stammered.

Genghis waved a hand to silence him. "Then my brother will look it over." He thought for a moment, staring over the minister's head to the line of laden carts.

"I have not yet seen your master to offer formal surrender, Ruin Chu. Where is he?"

Ruin Chu grew even redder in the face as he considered how to answer. General Zhi Zhong had not survived the night, and the portly minister had been called to his apartments at dawn. He shuddered at the memory of the body's stripes and marks. It had not been an easy death.

"General Zhi Zhong has not survived these difficult times, my lord," he said at last. Genghis looked blankly at him. "What do I care for another of your soldiers? I have not seen your emperor. Does he think I will take his gold and ride away without ever laying eyes on him?"

Ruin Chu's mouth worked, though no sound came out.

Genghis stepped closer to him. "Go back to Yenking, Minister, and bring him out. If he is not here by noon, all the riches in the world will not save your city."

Ruin Chu swallowed, visibly afraid. He had hoped that the Mongol khan would not ask to see a seven-year-old boy. Would little Xuan survive the meeting? Ruin Chu could not be sure. The Mongols were cruel and nothing was beneath them. Yet there was no choice and he bowed even deeper than before.

"Your will, my lord."

As the sun rose in the sky, the great train of treasures was halted to allow the emperor's litter out onto the plain. With him came a hundred men in armor, walking at the side of the box borne by matching slaves. They came in grim silence and the Mongols too fell quiet at the sight, beginning to drift in after the group as they made their way to where Genghis waited with his generals. No special tent had been raised for the emperor, yet Genghis could not help a twinge of awe as the ranks marched toward him. It was true that the boy had played no part in the history of the tribes. Yet he was the single symbol of everything they had come together to resist. Genghis dropped his hand to the hilt of one of Arslan's swords at his waist. When it had been forged, he had been khan of less than fifty men in a camp of snow and ice. He would hardly have dared dream then that the emperor of the Chin would one day come at his command.

The litter shone in the sun as it was lowered with incredible gentleness. The slaves straightened from the poles, staring straight ahead. Genghis watched in fascination as small curtains were lifted aside by Ruin Chu and a small boy stepped onto the grass. He wore a long, jeweled green jacket over leggings of black. A high collar made the boy hold his head up. His eyes were not afraid as they met those of the khan, and Genghis felt a touch of admiration for the child's courage.

Genghis took a step forward and sensed the hard gaze of the soldiers on him. "Have these men stand back, Ruin Chu," he said softly.

The minister bowed his head and gave the order. Genghis stood stiffly as the officers glared at him before retreating a grudging distance. The idea that they could protect the little boy in the heart of the Mongol camp was ludicrous, but Genghis could feel the fierce loyalty in them. He did not want them startled into an attack. Once they had moved, he thought no more of their presence and approached the emperor.