For the first three days, they rode without speaking. The older warriors kept a wary distance from Eeluk’s favorite, knowing how quickly his mood could change. They scouted the land right up to the red hill, noting how the grass had grown thick and sweet for the herds Eeluk would drive before the tribe. It was good land and no other tribe had claimed it for this season. Only a few distant herders spoiled the illusion of being alone on the vast plains.

On the twelfth day, they sighted a solitary ger next to a river and galloped up to it. Tolui called “Nokhoi khor” to have the wanderer herdsmen hold their dogs, then jumped down onto the springy turf, striding to the low door and ducking inside. Basan and Unegen exchanged glances before following him in, their faces set hard and cold. Both men had known each other since they were boys, before even Yesugei had ruled the Wolves. It galled them to have the arrogant young Tolui leading them, but they had both grasped the chance to see what had become of those they had left behind.

Tolui accepted the bowl of milky salt tea in his huge hands, slurping it noisily as he sat on an ancient bed. The other men joined him after bowing their heads to the herdsman and his wife, who were watching the strangers in frank terror from the other side of their home.

“You have nothing to fear,” Basan said to them as he accepted his tea, earning himself a scornful glance from Tolui. The young bondsman cared nothing for those who were not Wolves.

“We are looking for a woman with five sons and a daughter,” Tolui said, his deep voice too loud in the small ger. The herdsman’s wife looked up nervously and Basan and Unegen felt a sudden quickening of their pulses.

Tolui too had noticed the response.

“You know them?” he said, leaning forward.

The herdsman pressed himself backwards, clearly intimidated by the bulk of this strange warrior. He shook his head.

“We have heard of them, but we do not know where they are,” he said.

Tolui held the man’s gaze, his body utterly still. His mouth opened slightly, showing white teeth. A threat had come into the ger and they could all feel it.

Before anything else could be said, a young boy came running through the door, skidding to a stop when he saw the strangers in his parents’ home.

“I saw the horses,” he said, looking around with wide, dark eyes.

Tolui chuckled and before anyone else could move, he reached out and pulled the child onto his knee, turning him upside down and swinging him. The little boy giggled, but Tolui’s face was cold and the herdsman and his wife stiffened in fear.

“We need to find them,” Tolui said over the boy’s laughter. He held him without apparent effort with his arms outstretched, flipping the child over so that he stood upright on Tolui’s knees.

“Again!” the boy said, breathlessly.

Tolui saw the mother begin to rise and her husband grip her arm.

“You know them,” Tolui said, with certainty. “Tell us and we will go.” Once more, he swung their son upside down, ignoring the delighted cries. Tolui tilted his head to watch their reaction. The mother’s face crumpled.

“There is a woman with boys, a day’s ride to the north in a small camp. Just two gers and a few ponies. They are peaceful people,” she said, almost in a whisper.

Tolui nodded, enjoying the power he had over her while her son chuckled oblivious in his arms. When they could not bear it any longer, he set the boy on the floor and pushed him toward his parents. The mother embraced her son, squeezing her eyes shut as she held him.

“If you are lying, I will come back,” Tolui said. The danger was clear in his dark eyes and the hands that could so easily have broken their son. The herdsman would not meet his gaze, staring at his feet until Tolui and his companions had left.

As they mounted outside, Tolui noticed a heavyset dog come ambling out from behind the ger. The animal was too old to hunt and stared at the strangers with whitish eyes that suggested he was almost blind. Tolui bared his teeth at the dog and it responded with a low growl, deep in its throat. He chuckled then, stringing his bow in swift, sure movements. Basan watched frowning as Tolui sent a shaft through the dog’s throat. The animal spasmed, making coughing sounds as they dug in their heels and rode away.

Tolui seemed to be in a fine humor when they cooked a meal for themselves that night. The dried mutton was not too old and the cheese was slightly rancid, sparkling on the tongue as they chewed and swallowed.

“What are the khan’s orders for when we find them?” Basan asked.

Tolui glanced over at the older man, frowning as if the question were an intrusion. He enjoyed cowing other warriors with his glares, backed always by a strength that could knock a pony to its knees with a single blow. He did not answer until Basan had looked away from him and another little struggle had been won.

“Whatever I choose, Basan,” he said, savoring the idea. “Though the khan wants the older boys dragged back. I will tie them to the tails of our mounts and make them run.”

“Perhaps these are not the ones we are looking for,” Unegen reminded the young warrior. “They have gers and ponies, after all.”

“We’ll see. If they are, we’ll bring the mounts back with us, as well,” Tolui said, smiling at the thought. Eeluk had not imagined there could be spoils, but no one would dispute Tolui’s right to take the possessions of the family of Yesugei. Their fate had been shown on the day the tribe left them. They were outside the laws of hospitality, mere wanderers with no khan to protect them. Tolui belched to himself as he pulled his hands inside his deel for sleep. It had been a good day. A man could hardly ask for more.

Temujin wiped sweat from his eyes as he tied the last crosspiece of wood together to make a small corral for their sheep and goats to give birth. The small herd had grown, with only a few mouths to feed, and two years before, the brothers had gone amongst the wanderers to trade wool and meat for felt. They had bartered for enough to make two small gers, and the sight of them never failed to raise Temujin’s spirits.

Khasar and Kachiun were practicing their archery nearby, with a target made from thick layers of felt wrapped in cloth. Temujin stood and stretched stiff muscles, leaning on the fence to watch them and thinking back to the first months when death and the winter stalked every step. It had been hard on them all, but their mother’s promise had been good. They had survived. Without Bekter, the brothers had grown a bond of trust and strength between them as they worked every hour of daylight. It had hardened them all, and when they were not working with the herd or preparing goods for trade, they spent every moment honing their skills with weapons.

Temujin touched the knife at his belt, kept sharp enough to slice through leather. In his ger there was a bow the equal of anything his father had owned, a beautiful weapon with an inner curve of shining horn. It was like pressing a knife edge to the fingers to draw its string back, and Temujin had spent months hardening his hands to bear the weight. It had not yet killed a man, but he knew it would send a shaft straight and true if he needed it.

A cool breeze came across the green plains and he closed his eyes, enjoying the way it dried his sweat. He could hear his mother in the ger with Temuge and little Temulun, singing to both her youngest children. He smiled at the sound, forgetting for a time the struggle of their lives. He did not often find peace, even in fragments. Though they traded with single herdsmen and their families, it had come as a surprise to find there was another society beneath the great tribes grazing across the land. Some of them had been banished for crimes of violence or lust. Others had been born without the protection of a khan. They were a wary people and Temujin had dealt with them only to survive. To one born in a khan’s ger, they were still tribeless men and women, beneath contempt. Temujin did not enjoy being one of their number, and his brothers shared the same frustration. As they grew into men, they could not help but remember the way their lives should have run. A single day had stolen all their futures, and Temujin despaired when he thought of scratching a life with a few goats and sheep until he was old and weak. That was what Eeluk had taken from them. Not just their birthright, but the tribe, the great family that protected each other and made life bearable. Temujin could not forgive those hard years.