Slowly, Guyuk reached out his hand and gripped Tsubodai's shoulder. The gesture was one he would not have dreamed of making a month before.

'How could I leave you behind, Tsubodai? The general of Genghis Khan, at the time I need him most? Come home with me. You know I cannot allow you to stay. You will come back another year, when there is peace.'

Tsubodai stared at Baidur and his pain was visible to all. Baidur looked away rather than see. When the orlok's gaze swept over Batu, his eyes blazed.

'I am an old man,' Tsubodai said. 'And I saw the beginning of it all, when Genghis himself was young. I will not come back here again. I have spoken to prisoners. There is nothing between us and the ocean, nothing. We have seen their knights, Guyuk, do you understand? They cannot stop us. If we go on, the land is ours to take, sea to sea, for ever. Sea to sea, general. Ours for ten thousand years. Can you imagine such a thing?'

'It is not important,' Guyuk said softly. 'The homeland is where we began. I cannot lose all that for lands here.' He brought his hand back and his voice was steady.

'I will be khan, Orlok Tsubodai. I need you with me.'

Tsubodai slumped slowly in his chair, the energy draining from his face. Even Batu looked uncomfortable at the changes they had wrought in him.

'Very well. I will make them ready to ride home.' Chagatai stood looking out at the river as the sun came up. The room was bare of furniture, the palace itself empty, beyond a few servants who would clean the rooms. He did not know if he would ever come back there again and he felt a pang of loss at the thought. He heard footsteps approaching and turned to see his servant Suntai enter the room. The man's scarred face was welcome, while Chagatai's heart soared with visions.

'It is time, my lord khan,' Suntai said. His gaze fell to the crumpled parchment in Chagatai's hand, read and reread a thousand times since it had come just days before.

'It is time,' Chagatai echoed. He took a last look at the sun rising, lighting the backs of a flight of geese rising from the still waters. In such a mood, he stared straight at the ball of gold on the horizon, daring it to burn him.

'I can be in Karakorum months ahead of him,' Chagatai said. 'I will take the oath of our people as khan, but there will be war when he returns. Unless I take the example of my beloved brother, Ogedai. What do you think, Suntai? Would Guyuk accept my khanate here in exchange for his life? Come, give me your counsel.'

'He may, my lord. After all, you did.'

Chagatai smiled, at peace with the world for the first time in years.

'Perhaps I would be storing up trouble for the future, or for my son, Baidur. I must think of his life now. By the spirits, if Guyuk would just die in his sleep, my path would be clear! Instead, I have sent him a hostage to my goodwill.'

Suntai knew his master well and he smiled as he came to stand behind him.

'Guyuk may believe so, my lord, even Orlok Tsubodai, but will such a hostage truly stay your hand?'

Chagatai shrugged. 'I have other sons. The prize is too great to turn aside for just one. Baidur will have to fight his own way out. After all, Suntai, I gave him my best warriors for his tuman. They have no equal in the nation. If he falls, I will grieve for him, but his fate is in his own hands, as always.'

Chagatai had not noticed Suntai's soft boots in place of his usual sandals. He did not hear the final step. He felt a sting at his neck and choked in surprise, reaching up to his throat. To his astonishment, there was a terrible wrongness there. As he pulled his hand away, he saw it was covered in blood. He tried to speak, but his voice was lost to him and only creaked through the line that striped his skin.

'It is said that the kirpan dagger is so very sharp that little pain attends a death,' Suntai said. 'I have never had the opportunity to ask. Its name translates as "hand of mercy" for that reason.'

The servant leaned closer as he saw Chagatai's lips move, though a low gargling was the only sound he could make. Suntai stood well back as his master sank to one knee, still clutching his throat.

'The wound is mortal, my lord. Try to be calm. Death is coming swiftly.'

Chagatai's head sank slowly to his chest. His right hand came away bloody and reached for the sword on his hip, but he did not have the strength to draw it beyond the first gleaming line of steel.

'I was told to pass on a message to you, my lord, if there was a chance to do so. I have memorised the words. Can you still hear?'

Suntai watched as Chagatai fell forward in a clatter. Someone shouted nearby and Suntai frowned at the thought of what must come.

'The message is from Ogedai Khan, my lord, to be given at the moment of your death: "This is not vengeance, Chagatai. It is for my son. I am no longer the man who let you live. By my hand striking far, you will not be khan."' Suntai sighed. 'I have never been truly your servant, my lord, but you were a fine master. Go with God.'

Chagatai's hands fell limp and his guards came storming into the room, drawing their blades as they saw Suntai kneeling and whispering into the ear of their master. He stood as they rushed towards him, his face peaceful as the swords swung. On a cold, clear morning, Tsubodai mounted his horse and looked back. There were no clouds and the sky was a perfect blue. Seven tumans were waiting in formation, the best warriors of his nation. Behind them, the baggage and carts stretched for miles. He had taken generals, some of them almost boys, and he had shown them their strengths. Despite his flaws, Guyuk would be a better khan because of what he had learned on the great trek. Baidur would be more of a man than his father before him. Mongke would make his father's soul proud. Tsubodai sighed. He knew he would never see such an army again. Old age had crept up on him and he was tired. For a time, he had thought he could ride for ever with the young men, the lure of the sea bringing him further from home than he could once have dreamed. When Guyuk had called a halt, it was like a whisper of death in his ears, an ending. He stared into the distance, imagining cities with spires of gold. He knew their names, but he would never see them: Vienna, Paris, Rome.

It was done. He knew he would take arms if Chagatai challenged for Ogedai's khanate. Perhaps he would see battle one last time. With the princes, he would take the field in glory and show Chagatai why Tsubodai Bahadur had been the general of Genghis Khan.

The thought lifted him for an instant, enough to raise his hand and drop it. At his back, the Mongol tumans began the journey of five thousand miles that would take them home at last.

EPILOGUE

Xuan looked out of the windows in a long cloister as he walked. Each one revealed a view of Hangzhou, with the river leading out into the bay. He had been moved often since coming into Sung lands, as if they could not think what to do with him. On rare occasions, he was even allowed to sail on the river, and he saw his wives and children twice a year, in strained meetings, with Sung officials watching on all sides.

The cloister ran along the spine of yet another official building. Xuan amused himself by timing his steps so that his left foot hit the stone at the centre of each pool of sunlight. He did not expect great news from the summons. Over the years, he had realised the Sung officials delighted in demonstrating their power over him. For too many times to count, his presence had been demanded in some private office, only to find the official had no connection with the court. On two occasions, the men involved had brought their mistresses or children to observe as they fussed with permissions and the allocation of his small income. The meeting itself was irrelevant. They had just wanted to parade the Chin emperor, the Son of Heaven himself, for their wide-eyed dependents.