[T]he creator of the Mongol empire was not the ruler of one of the mighty peoples of the Great Steppe, but a vagabond who had been expelled from his own tribe. His name was Temuchin, and he came from the Kiyat-Borjigin clan. He became known to the world as Genghis Khan.
… The stink of corpses coming from the Garden of Dawn and the smell of frying duck wafting from the reactivated kitchens permeated the palace and were carried by drafts into the hall, where they intermingled. The young eunuch standing next to Yeh-liu Chu-tsai wrinkled his nose in disgust. “These worms foul the air. The odor, you must agree, is just awful. We will soon be adding to it. These barbarians don’t even know how to kill people properly, do they.”
Yeh-liu Chu-tsai was listening to his neighbor with only half an ear; all his attention was riveted on the tall, solid Mongol walking past the reception hall surrounded by his keshigs. Yeh-liu Chu-tsai was unable, despite all his self-possession, to restrain a noisy manifestation of admiration. The thought flashed in his mind: The Wall! The Wall is here. It’s happening! He answered the eunuch in a loud, clear voice, “I don’t think it’s very polite to criticize an instrument of life or death.”
The guards stopped. The Mongol standing in the middle of the circle of guards turned his red-bearded face toward the crowd of the doomed, and his pale gaze fastened on Yeh-liu Chu-tsai. An instant later this rust-colored person roared with deafening laughter. The guards moved on; the laughter died down. The eunuch asked, “Who is that steppe worm? He looks like the merry shadow of perishing humanity. Do you know him? It seemed to me that your eyes lit up...”
“That’s Genghis Khan, Conqueror of the Universe.”
… Genghis Khan, dressed in black and astride a black horse, rode silently and gloomily past his generals, advisors, and sons. In the night an arrow had broken on his double mail shirt. Enemies had calculated that the Grand Khan wouldn’t sleep with the young captive girl without taking off his armor. He had stepped out of the tent for a moment in search of a palace draft. The keshigs and yurtaji had not found the would-be assassin. The same thing had happened in the past when he was with a woman and stepped out for a bit of fresh air. It wasn’t the routine attempt on his life, however, but the forthcoming battle that had spoiled his mood. He could not get used to easy victories beyond the Wall, although he was coming to realize that they were the rule. But he kept thinking that there was a dirty trick somewhere…
… Yeh-liu Chu-tsai watched in admiration as his wife, elegant as a Japanese phantom, calmly wiped her swords on the tablecloth and slid them quickly and easily into their scabbards, assumed a pose against an imaginary adversary, and then, receiving her husband’s permission from his glance, slipped into the underground passageway. A moment later she looked back to see Yeh-liu Chu-tsai sitting at his desk, sipping with enjoyment from a delicate porcelain cup as the enemy banged at the door. The cup was translucent in the light of the torches and the oil lamp on the table. That cup alone is worth a fortune. Only the Son of Heaven is worthy of such china. Where did this barbarian get such a marvel? The princess watched in horror as with a short laugh Prince Yeh-liu Chu-tsai hurled the priceless cup at the shaking wall. Can my husband really be so wealthy? Who is he, whose death someone is persistently seeking and whose very gestures cost fortunes?
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