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?'

'Sorhatani…'

'You will die here. They will find you stiff and cold. And Tolui's gift will have been thrown away. Tell me then how I will justify what he did for you.'

His face twisted, and in astonishment she saw that he was struggling not to weep. This was not Genghis, who would have sprung up in rage at her words. This was a broken man before her.

'I should not have let him do it,' Ogedai said. 'How long do I have? Months? Days? I cannot know.'

'What is this foolishness?' Sorhatani said, forgetting herself in her exasperation. 'You will live for forty years and be feared and loved throughout a huge nation. A million children will be born with your name, in your honour, if you leave this room and this weakness behind you.'

'You don't understand,' Ogedai said. Only two other men knew of the weakness that plagued him. If he told Sorhatani, he was risking it becoming common knowledge in the camps and tumans, yet they were alone and she knelt before him, her eyes wide in the gloom. He needed someone.

'My heart is weak,' he said, his voice just a breath. 'I truly do not know how long I have. I should not have let him sacrifice himself for me, but I was…' He stumbled over the words.

'Oh, my husband,' Sorhatani said to herself as she understood at last. A sudden upwelling of grief choked her. 'Oh, my love.'

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears. 'Did he know? Did Tolui know?'

'I think so,' Ogedai said, looking away.

He was not sure how to respond. He had learned that his shaman had discussed the weakness of his body with his brother and uncle, but he had not asked Tolui himself. Having surfaced from a dark river, choking and gasping back to life, Ogedai had grasped at anything offered to him. At that time, he would have done anything, just for a day in the light. Now, it was hard to remember that yearning for life, as if it had been someone else The cold room with its billowing silk jarred somehow with the memories. He looked around him, blinking like one awakening from sleep.

'If he knew, it was an even greater sacrifice,' she said. 'And even more reason why you must not waste another day of it. If he can see you now, Ogedai, will he consider he gave his life for something worthwhile? Or will he be ashamed of you?'

Ogedai felt a stab of anger at her words.

'You dare to speak to me in such a way?' he demanded.

He had stopped blinking like a day-old lamb. The gaze he fixed on her had a touch of the old khan in it. Sorhatani welcomed it, though she still reeled at what she had heard. If Ogedai died, who would lead the nation? The answer followed on the question, without a pause. Chagatai would be back in Karakorum in just days, riding in triumph to accept the beneficent will of the sky father. She ground her teeth at the very thought of his pleasure.

'Get up,' she said. 'Get up, my lord. If you do not have long, there is still much to do. You must not waste another day, another morning! Take hold of your life with both hands and crush it to you, my lord. You will not have another in this world.'

He began to speak and she reached out and pulled his head towards her, kissing him hard on the mouth. His breath and lips were cool with the scent of tea. When she released him, he lurched backwards, then came to his feet, staring incredulously at her.

'What was that?' he said. 'I have enough wives, Sorhatani.'

'That was to see if you were still alive, my lord. My husband gave his life for these precious days, no matter how long or short they are. In his name, will you trust me?'

He was still dazed, she knew it. She had awoken some part of him, but the fog of despair, perhaps of the Chin drugs, was still weighing heavily, dulling his wits. Yet she saw a gleam of interest in his eyes as he looked at her kneeling before him. He summoned his will like a stick borne aloft on a flood, visible for an instant before vanishing into the depths.

'No, Sorhatani, I don't trust you.'

She smiled. 'That is to be expected, my lord. But you will learn I am on your side.'

She rose and closed the windows, shutting out the moaning wind at last.

'I will call your servants, lord. You will feel better when you have eaten proper food.'

He stared at her as she yelled for Baras'aghur, snapping instructions to the man in a torrent. Baras looked to Ogedai over her shoulder, but the khan just shrugged and acquiesced. It was a relief to have someone else who knew what he needed. The thought sparked another.