Lords of Grass and Thunder Read Free Page A

your adventures in your own words, with your own commentary.”
    “I know. He asked me about it when we were still in Kungol, but I wasn’t ready then.”
    “And you are now?”
    “I’m not sure.” Tayy paused, brush raised for the next stroke. His vision seemed to turn inward as he thought. “Maybe. Soon.”
    It struck Mergen that the young prince had little experience by which to judge his current feelings, and he offered a bit of his own truth from past wars fought at Chimbai’s side. “There’s always a letdown after battle.”
    “I know. I’m fine.” The next stroke with the brush came down on a raw spot with more force than the horse liked. She tossed her head and sidled a step away from the hurt. “Sorry, sorry, girl,” he said, calming her.
    He seemed unwilling to accept any comfort for himself, however. After a long silent moment, Mergen turned for the command tent. “Come when you are ready,” he said with a glance over his shoulder, and meant many things by that.
    Prince Tayy didn’t look up, but his nod seemed to answer all of them.
    There was nothing left but to go, and so Mergen did.
     
     
     
    Y esugei, the general of his armies in the recent struggle, caught up with him and matched his pace as he made his way across the avenue that divided the camp. The hair caught at the nape of his neck in the long flat braid of a chieftain was scattered with more gray than before the war. Otherwise he showed no signs of aging, but remained broad in the chest, his thick arms still capable with the sword or the spear. He’d been watching the halting conversation between khan and heir, it seemed, and now spoke up with more understanding than Mergen felt comfortable acknowledging: “He’ll be ready when the clans need him.”
    “I know he will.” Mergen had called himself a humble servant of the khan and few knew how deeply felt those words had been. But if he could do this one last service in Chimbai’s name, set Chimbai’s son on the dais, he’d be free. He just had to keep the prince alive and moving forward. It seemed, for the moment, he had. “The boy has survived when others haven’t, a valuable skill in a khan.”
    “In the present khan as well,” Yesugei reminded him. “Where else will a boy learn how to lead?”
    They had reached the command tent. Great Sun had set below the horizon, chased to his sleep by little moons Han and Chen. Great Moon Lun would follow her brothers soon to light the night sky. Now, fire painted the side of Yesugei’s face crimson and gold as he gave one last word before taking his place among the captains and chieftains at the side of the dais.
    “On the dais or whispering in the ear of the heir who takes your place there, your people need you,” he reminded the khan. It would have been impertinent, except that his bow, and the cupped hand outstretched in the gesture of a supplicant, made clear that he spoke not as a friend but as a chieftain. A reminder that the clans had elected their khan to be above them for a reason.
    “I serve at the will of my people,” Mergen answered with a tilt of his head to acknowledge the gentle rebuke. With that he took the dais, calling for his supper so that the others might eat.
     
     
     
    T he road down from the mountains was hard and the recent battle left all the armies that fought in it exhausted and reeling both from the fighting and from the onslaught of wonders they had seen. Mergen-Khan therefore kept the court in attendance only until Great Moon Lun had begun her descent. Then he sent them all to their own tents to sleep as they might until morning. Bekter was not the only one that night to fall like the dead on the sheepskin of his saddle pad, under the warm cover of a low round campaign tent. Qutula, however, remained wide awake, twisting on his own bed in an excess of feverish energy. He wanted someone to talk to—not just anyone, but a brother who shared his interest in bettering their position in the eyes of