Perhaps it was his example, but Sorhatani stepped aside from her new-found dignity. As Torogene turned to face her, she too bowed deeply.

'Your return is welcome, lady,' Sorhatani said, straightening. 'The khan is on his way to health and he needs you now more than ever.'

Torogene relaxed subtly, a hint of tension vanishing from the way she held herself. As Yao Shu watched in anticipation, the older woman smiled. To his fury, he saw Sorhatani echo the expression.

'I'm sure you'll tell me everything I need to know,' Torogene said, her voice warm. 'I was sorry to hear about your husband. He was a brave man, more so than I ever knew.'

Sorhatani found herself blushing, relieved beyond words that the khan's wife had not snubbed her, or begun hostilities. She bowed again on impulse, overcome.

'Join me on the cart, dear,' Torogene said, fitting her arm through Sorhatani's. 'We can talk on the way to the palace. Is that Yao Shu I see there?'

'My lady,' Yao Shu murmured.

'I will want to see the accounts, chancellor. Bring them to me in the khan's rooms at sunset.'

'Of course, my lady,' he replied.

What trickery was this? He had hoped for two cats spitting rage over Ogedai, and instead they seemed to have assessed each other and found something to like in just a glance and a greeting. He would never understand women, he thought. They were life's great mystery. His hands ached and throbbed from hammering through the door panels and he was suddenly tired. He wanted nothing more than to return to his offices and settle down with something hot to drink. He watched in numb frustration as Sorhatani and Torogene were handed up onto the cart and took seats next to each other, already chattering like birds. The column moved off with cries from the drivers and warriors riding escort. It was not long before he was standing alone on the dusty road. The thought came to him that the accounts were in no state to be perused by anyone apart from himself. He had a great deal of work to do before sunset, before he could rest. Karakorum was far from quiet as the riders and carts made their way through the streets. The khan's own Guards had been brought out from their barracks to man the roads and keep back crowds of well-wishers, as well as those who just wanted to catch a glimpse of Torogene. The khan's wife was seen as the mother of the nation and the Guards were hard-pressed. Torogene smiled indulgently as they wended their way through the streets to the golden dome and tower of the khan's palace.

'I had forgotten there were so many people here,' Torogene said, shaking her head in wonder. Men and women held children out to her in the vain hope that she would bless them with a touch. Others cried her name, or called out blessings of their own on the khan and his family. The Guards linked arms at crossroads, struggling to hold back a tide of humanity.

When she spoke again, Sorhatani could see a faint flush in Torogene's cheeks.

'I understand that Ogedai is much taken with you,' Torogene began.

Sorhatani closed her eyes for a moment of irritation. Yao Shu.

'Looking after him gave me something to do while I bore my own grief,' she said. Her eyes were clear of guilt and Torogene regarded her with interest. She had never been as beautiful, even when young.

'You seem to have offended my husband's chancellor, at least. That says something for you.'

Sorhatani smiled. 'He feels the khan's wishes should have been respected. I…did not respect them. I think I irritated Ogedai into taking a grip on his duties again. He is not fully well, my lady, but I think you will see a change in him.'

The khan's wife patted her knee, reassured by Sorhatani's babbling. By the spirits, the woman had secured her husband's titles with just a few ruffled feathers! If that was not enough, she had nursed the khan back to health, when the man was refusing to see his wife or his chancellor. Some part of her knew Ogedai had chosen to die alone in his palace. He had sent her away with a sort of cold resignation she could not pierce. Somehow, she had thought that to defy him would be to see him break down completely. He had not allowed her into his grief. It still hurt.

Sorhatani had done what Torogene could not and she silently thanked the younger woman, however she had achieved it. Even Yao Shu had been forced to admit Ogedai was in better spirits. It was somehow good to know Sorhatani could be as nervous as a girl. It made her less frightening.

Sorhatani regarded the motherly lady at her side. It had been a very long time since anyone had shown her that sort of affection and she found herself liking the woman more. She could hardly express her relief that there was no bad blood between them. Torogene wasn't the foolish sort to come storming home. If Ogedai had the sense of a marmot, he'd have had her close from the moment he returned. He'd have healed himself in her arms. Instead, he'd chosen to wait for death in a frozen room. He'd seen it as refusing to flinch in the face of death, she knew now. He had tormented himself with past sins and errors until he could no longer move even to save himself.

'I am glad you were there for him, Sorhatani,' Torogene said. The colour in her cheeks deepened suddenly and Sorhatani prepared for the question she knew would come.

'I am not a young girl, a blushing virgin,' Torogene said. 'My husband has many wives…and slaves and servants to attend to every need. I will not be hurt, but I do want to know if you comforted him in all ways.'

'Not in bed,' Sorhatani said, smiling. 'He came close to grabbing me once when I was bathing him, but I hit him with a foot-brush.'

Torogene chuckled. 'That's the way to deal with them, dear, when they get warm. You're very beautiful, you see. I think I would have been jealous of you if you had.'

They smiled at each other, each one realising she had found a friend. Both women wondered if the other valued the discovery anywhere near as much.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Tsubodai moved slowly west over the following spring and summer. Leaving the Russian principates behind, he reached the limits of his maps. His scouts spread out ahead of the tumans, ranging in unknown territory for months at a time as they sketched valleys and towns and lakes, putting together a picture of the land that lay before him. Those who could read and write made notes on the strength of armies they encountered, or the moving columns of refugees fleeing before them. Those who could not write bound sticks in bundles of ten, with each ten representing a thousand. It was a rough system, but Tsubodai was content to move in summer and fight each winter, playing to the strengths of his people. The lords and nobles of these new lands were made weak by such an approach to war. As yet, they had shown him nothing that could threaten his horse warriors.

Tsubodai assumed he would eventually face armies the equal of those wielded by the chin emperor. At some point, the foreign princes would join forces against the sweep west. He heard rumours of armies like clouds of locusts, but he did not know if it was exaggeration. If the foreign lords did not join together, they would be taken one by one and he would not stop, would not ever stop, until he saw the sea.

He rode to the front of a column of the closest two tumans, checking on the supplies Mongke had promised to send after a lucky find. Just keeping so many in the field forced them to move constantly. The horses needed vast plains of sweet grass and the sheer number of ragged foot soldiers was becoming a greater problem every day. They served a purpose when used ruthlessly. Tsubodai's tumans sent them in first, forcing the enemy to use all their bolts and arrows before they met the main Mongol forces. In that way, they were valuable enough, but anything that lived or moved had to be shot to feed the men – not just herds of cattle and sheep, but foxes, deer, wolves, hares and wild birds, anything they could find. They scoured the land, leaving almost nothing alive behind them. He thought the destruction of villages was something like a mercy. Better a quick death than being left to starve, without grain or meat for the winter to come. Time and again, Tsubodai's tumans had found abandoned villages, places filled with ghosts from years back, when plague or starvation had forced the people to leave. It was no wonder they gathered in great cities. In such places, they could pretend they were safe and find comfort in numbers and high walls. They did not yet know how weak those walls were for his tumans. He had brought down Yenking, with the Chin emperor inside it. Nothing he had seen in the west could match that stone city.