EELUK SAT AND STARED into the flames, thinking of the past. In the four years since he had left the shadow of Deli’un-Boldakh and the lands around the red hill, the Wolves had prospered, growing in numbers and wealth. There were still those in the tribe who hated him for abandoning the sons of Yesugei, but there had been no sign of an evil fate. The very first spring of the following year had seen more lambs born than anyone could remember, and a dozen squalling infants had come into the gers. Not a single one had been lost in birth, and those who looked for signs were satisfied.

Eeluk grunted to himself, enjoying how his vision dimmed and blurred after the second skin of black airag. The years had been good and he had three new sons of his own to run around the camp and learn the bow and the sword. He had put on weight, though it was more a thickening than an excess of fat. His teeth and eyes were still strong and his name was feared among the tribes. He knew he should have been content.

The Wolves had ranged far to the south in those years, until they reached a land so infested with flies and wet air that they sweated all day and their skins grew foul with creeping rashes and sores. Eeluk had longed for the cool, dry winds of the northern hills, but even as he had turned the Wolves back on their old paths, he’d wondered what had become of the family of Yesugei. Part of him still wished he had sent a bondsman back to make a cleaner end to it, though not from guilt, but from a nagging sense of unfinished work.

He snorted, tilting back the skin and finding it empty. With an idle gesture, he signaled for another and a young woman brought it to his hand. Eeluk looked appreciatively at her as she knelt before him with her head bowed. He could not remember her name through the blurriness of the airag, but she was slim and long-legged, like one of the spring colts. He felt desire stir and he reached out to touch her face, raising it so that she had to look at him. With deliberate slowness, he took her hand and pressed it into his lap, letting her feel his interest. She looked nervous, but he had never minded that and a khan could not be refused. He would pay her father with one of the new ponies if she pleased him.

“Go to my ger and wait for me,” he said, slurring, watching as she crept away from him. Fine legs, he noticed, and considered going after her. The urge faded quickly and he went back to staring at the flames.

He still remembered how the sons of Yesugei had dared to stare at him as he left them behind. If it had been that morning, he would have cut them down himself. Four years before, he had barely placed his hands on the reins of the tribe and did not know how much they would stand from him. Yesugei had taught him that much, at least. The tribes would bear a great deal from those who led them, but there was always a point to watch for, a line not to cross.

Surely the first winter had taken those skinny children and their mother? It was a strange thing to be moving back into an area with so many memories. The camp for that night was a temporary one, a place to let the horses grow fat again on good grass. In a month or so, they would be moving back to the lands around the red hill. Eeluk had heard the Olkhun’ut too had returned to the area, and he had brought the Wolves north with more than a few half-formed dreams of conquest. The airag heated his blood and made him itch for a fight, or the woman waiting in his ger.

Eeluk drew in a deep breath, reveling in the frozen air. He had lusted after cold on the humid nights in the south, when his skin was red with bites and strange parasites that had to be cut out with a knife tip. The air in the north felt cleaner and already the coughing sickness had dwindled among the tribe. One old man and two children had died and been left on the hills for the hawks, but the Wolves were lighthearted as they traveled back to lands they knew.

“Tolui!” Eeluk called, though the idea was only part formed. He glanced to one side, where his bondsman rose from a crouch to stand by his shoulder. Eeluk watched the massive figure as he bowed, and felt the same sense of satisfaction as when he looked over their swelling herds. The Wolves had done well in the last great gathering of tribes, winning two of the short races and only losing the longest by a single length. His archers had been honored and two of his bondsmen had wrestled their way to the final rounds of the competition. Tolui had reached the fifth bout and was given the title of Falcon, before being beaten by a man of the Naimans. Eeluk had made him a bondsman as a reward, and with a year or two more to grow his strength, he would wager on Tolui to beat all comers. The powerful young man was fiercely loyal and it was no coincidence that Eeluk called on one who had been raised up by his own hand.

“You were just a boy when we last rode in the north,” Eeluk said. Tolui nodded, his dark eyes without expression. “You were there on the day we left the old khan’s children and his wife.”

“I saw it, but there was no place for them,” Tolui replied, his voice deep and sure.

Eeluk smiled. “That is it. There was no place for them any longer. We have grown rich since we came south. The sky father has blessed us all.”

Tolui did not respond and Eeluk let the silence grow as he considered what he wanted done. It was nothing more than ghosts and old wounds, but he still dreamed of Hoelun and woke, sweating. Sometimes she would be writhing naked under him and then he would see her bones jutting through the flesh. It was nothing, but the lands around the old mountain brought the past back from ashes.

“Take two men you can trust,” Eeluk said.

Tolui grew tauter as he loomed over his khan, eager to please him.

“Where will you send us?” he said, waiting for an answer while Eeluk filled his mouth with the airag and swallowed.

“Return to the old hunting grounds,” he said at last. “See if they still live, any of them.”

“Should I kill them?” Tolui asked.

There was nothing but simple curiosity in his voice, and Eeluk rubbed his swollen stomach while he thought. At his side was the sword that had once belonged to Yesugei. It would be fitting to end his line with a few swift cuts from that blade.

“If they have survived, they will be living like animals. Do what you want with them.” He paused for a time, remembering the defiance of Bekter and Temujin as he watched the flames. “If you find the oldest boys, drag them here, to me. I’ll show them what the Wolves have become under a strong khan before we give them to the birds and spirits.”

Tolui bowed his heavy head and murmured, “Your will,” before turning away to gather his companions for the ride. Eeluk watched him go in the firelight, seeing how he walked with firm, certain steps. The tribe had forgotten the children of Yesugei. Sometimes he thought he was the only one who remembered.

Tolui rode out from the camp with Basan and Unegen. Both of his companions were approaching thirty years of age, but they were not men born to lead as he was. Tolui reveled in his strength, and though he had seen only eighteen winters, he knew they feared his temper. For the powerful young bondsman, it was something he kept only barely under rein, enjoying the nervous glances he earned from older men. He saw how they moved with care in the coldest months and how they favored their knees. Tolui could come from sleep and leap up ready to work or fight, proud of his youth.

Only Eeluk had never shown the slightest hesitation, and when Tolui had challenged him to wrestle, the khan had thrown him so hard he had broken two fingers and a rib. Tolui took a perverse pride in following the only man who could match his strength, and there was no one more loyal among the Wolves.