6.

  ?gedei was dreaming.

  Seeing Batu—now grown so like his eldest brother, Jochi—pulled him back to that distant time, when the world had been nothing more than his parents and his brothers.

  Near the felt pavilion of B?rte, wife of Chinggis Khan, three small boys were crossing wooden swords.

  They were Chinggis’s sons.The youngest, no more than five years old, was ?gedei. With a desperate look on his face, he threw himself again and again at his elder brother Jochi.The other brother, Chagatai, stood with his arms folded, watching the two closely.

  Jochi deflected the blows with ease, his voice gentle as he gave instruction.

  “Step in more.”

  ?gedei swung again and again, his face flushed red, sweat soaking his hair. At last, Jochi raised a hand.

  “That’s enough for today.”

  He took a sip of kumis and grinned.

  “You’re getting better.”

  Chagatai nodded, hands on his hips.

  “Your second strike was solid.”

  “You wobbled a bit, though,” Jochi teased.

  “Even you must have felt that one,” Chagatai replied evenly.

  “Really? Brother!”

  “Yes,” Jochi said, patting ?gedei on the back. “I did. Just a little.”

  The youngest felt his chest swell until it might burst.That he had made his brother feel even a moment of unease filled him with pride.

  At that moment, their mother appeared from the pavilion, attendants following behind her.

  “Mother,” Jochi said, “?gedei is growing stronger. Once his body fills out, he’ll make a fine warrior.”

  “He fights with his head,” Chagatai added. “Not like us.”

  “That’s true,” Jochi laughed. “At this rate, the two of us might lose to him someday.”

  Chagatai laughed with him.

  Praised so openly, ?gedei did not know what to do with himself. B?rte beckoned him closer and drew him into her arms. She smelled sweet and familiar.

  Drawn by the noise, their father, Chinggis, stepped out of the pavilion.

  “You may be getting another brother,” he said.

  “Truly? Mother?” the boys cried together.

  Chinggis rested a hand on ?gedei’s head.

  “You’ll be an older brother too.”

  “Yes!”

  Their father and mother were both smiling. The two elder brothers threw their arms around each other’s shoulders, laughing as they jabbed at each other’s sides.

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  Watching them, the youngest felt his chest fill completely.

  —There was nothing in the world happier than this.

  As servants prepared him for sleep, ?gedei spoke breathlessly of the day, hardly pausing to breathe.

  How he had made his eldest brother feel uneasy. How his second brother had praised him for fighting with his head. And the news that another brother might be born—so wonderful his heart felt ready to burst.

  One of the maids, smoothing the bedding, murmured under her breath.

  “…How arrogant.”

  ?gedei blinked.

  “Arrogant?”

  The maid turned, her face perfectly calm.

  “That one who is not of Lord Chinggis’s blood behaving arrogantly toward you, my lord.”

  “What does that… mean?”

  “Stop it,” another maid cut in sharply. “There. Everything is ready. Lie down.”

  ?gedei was guided into the bedding. The lamps were extinguished.

  “Good night.”

  When the maids left, the pavilion fell suddenly silent.

  It felt as though an unseen stone had been placed upon his chest.

  —Not Father’s blood?—Brother Jochi?

  The meaning of the words was still vague to his young mind. Only a nameless unease tightened around his heart.

  ?gedei squeezed his eyes shut. Exhausted from the day, he soon fell asleep.

  That was the first drop.

  At the time, he could not have imagined that the bitterness he would taste again and again thereafter was something he would one day seek out himself.

  There had been a time—undeniably—when ?gedei believed the world was simple: the strong eldest brother would succeed their father; the clever and just second brother would support him and the empire; and he himself would protect the family.

  The real world—including his own place within it—was far more complex.

  When his younger brother Tolui reached the age of five, his hair-cutting ceremony was held, followed by a great celebration.

  The whole family gathered. Food and gifts filled their father’s great pavilion, and relatives and generals arrived bearing offerings. Tolui adored ?gedei, trailing after him wherever he went, dear beyond measure.

  “Now the House of Chinggis is secure,” the visitors said one after another.“Jochi the brave. Chagatai the wise. And Tolui—how sharp he is, how strong.”

  ?gedei thought that once, those words had been spoken of him.

  By the tradition of youngest-son inheritance, Tolui would succeed the house. Between two outstanding brothers and a younger one born already burdened with duty, ?gedei felt his own presence growing faint.

  What would become of him? Did he even belong here?

  Once more, the rumors surrounding his eldest brother’s birth rose in his mind. Lately they surfaced often enough to distract him from training and daily duties alike.

  Suddenly, Chagatai rose and stepped outside. Without thinking, ?gedei stood and followed him.

  “What is it? ”Chagatai’s face seemed sterner than before, yet around his eyes there lingered something of the gentleness ?gedei remembered.

  “Brother… did you know?” ?gedei forced himself to ask. “That Brother Jochi did not inherit Father’s blood?”

  Chagatai’s expression changed. ?gedei realized at once. His brother had not known.

  “Who told you?” Chagatai said. Then, more quietly, “No—there’s no need to ask. Such things find their way to one’s ears.”

  ?gedei lowered his gaze.

  “Is it true?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Only then did ?gedei understand that what he had hoped for was a simple answer: Brother is brother.But such words would never come from this earnest, straightforward man.

  “We must ask Mother,” Chagatai said, glancing back toward the pavilion they had just left.

  ?gedei could not stop him. He felt certain that the happiness he remembered was about to shatter.

  The next morning, Batu requested an audience with the Empress at once.

  The matter of the water source could not be ignored. Overseeing all of Karakorum was the Empress’s responsibility; she needed to be informed. Such harassment from the Chagatai side could not be allowed to trample her efforts—or her authority. A formal complaint to the House of Chagatai was in order as well.

  Yet the reply, delivered through a maid, was curt: the kuriltai was underway, and the Empress was busier than usual receiving guests. She could not grant an audience, but she was aware of the matter.

  It was astonishing That he, head of the House of Jochi, should be treated so lightly.

  Though a new water source was assigned and the immediate problem resolved, Batu could not shake his frustration. He had never imagined himself so ineffectual. For the first time, he wondered whether he could truly defend the honor of Jochi’s house.

  As he tended the livestock, trying to steady himself, a retainer approached and delivered his message.

  “Lady Sorghaghtani of the House of Tolui wishes to pay her respects. She would also like to speak of memories of your late father, and asks that you visit her pavilion.”