The implication was clear. If Genghis Khan trusted this man, who was I to hesitate?

“I have come,” I said slowly, thinking furiously as I spoke, “to warn the High Khan Ogotai against an evil that could destroy him and the entire Mongol empire.”

Subotai’s dark eyes searched my face, as if to find the truth by sheer force of will. “What evil is that?” he asked.

“There is a man, one who is unlike any other you have ever seen, a man of darkness with eyes that burn with hate…”

“Ahriman,” said the Mongol general.

“You know him?” The breath caught in my throat.

“It was he who prophesied our victory over Jelal ed-Din, and who told Hulagu that he will conquer Baghdad itself and crush the power of the Kalif forever.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, remembering from history the tales of Haroun al-Raschid and the fabulous Baghdad of the Thousand and One Nights. All were obliterated by the Mongol tide, the flower of Islam annihilated by the merciless destructive power of the Mongols. Cities burned, gardens trampled by the hardy little ponies of theGobi, millions massacred, an entire civilization gutted. While the knights of Europe fought their skirmishes against Islam in Spain and the Holy Land, the Mongol invaders were obliterating the heartland of the Moslems, turning the irrigated gardens of the ancient plain of Shinar into an everlasting desert.

“Ahriman is evil,” I said to Subotai. “He will bring destruction to the Mongols.”

The general gave no sign of alarm. Or belief. “Ahriman has brought us victory and good fortune so far.”

“He is in the camp, then?” Perhaps it was Ahriman’s men who had tried to kill me, and not over-zealous servants of the Orkhon Hulagu.

“No,” Subotai answered. “He left two weeks ago.”

“Where did he go?” I was afraid that I knew what the answer would be.

Sure enough, Subotai said, “Like you, he wished to go to Karakorum, to see the High Khan.”

I felt a surge of strength rise in me. “And he left two weeks ago? I must catch up with him.”

Subotai asked, “Why?”

“I told you. He is dangerous. I must warn the High Khan against him.”

The general tugged at the tip of his mustache, the only gesture of uncertainty that I had seen in him. I turned from him to Agla, who had not moved all through our conversation. She was staring at Subotai, waiting for him to come to some decision.

“I will send you to Karakorum,” Subotai said at last, “under my personal protection.”

“He cannot travel yet,” Agla interjected. “His wounds are not sufficiently healed.”

“I can travel,” I insisted. “I’ll be all right.”

Subotai raised his hand slightly. “You will remain here in camp until our healer is willing to let you go. And during this time I will come to you each day. You will tell me everything you know about the kingdoms of the West. I have a great need to learn of them.”

Before I could even start to answer, he got to his feet — a little stiffly. It was only then that I realized this man must have been close to sixty years old, if not older, and that most of those years had been spent in the saddle, winning battles and destroying cities.

Subotai left the yurt. I glared at Agla. “I must leave at once. I can’t let Ahriman reach Karakorum and get to the High Khan.”

“Why not?” she asked.

There was no way to explain it. “I’ve got to. That’s all.”

“But how can this one man be so dangerous?”

“I don’t know. But he is, and my task is to stop him.”

Agla shook her head. “Subotai won’t let you leave camp until you’ve told him everything he wants to know. And I don’t want you to leave either.”

“Are you afraid that your reputation as a healer will suffer if I go away?”

“No,” she said simply. “I… want you to stay with me.”

I reached out both hands to her and she came over and let me fold her in my arms. I held her gently and she leaned her head against my shoulder. I could smell the scent of her hair, clean and natural and utterly feminine.

“What was the name you called me?” she asked in a whisper. “The other name that you said was mine?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “That was far away.”

“What was it?”

“Aretha.”

“There was a woman of that name? You loved her?”

I took a deep breath and reveled in the luxury of her soft, warm body pressing close to me. “I hardly knew her… but, yes, I loved her. Ten thousand miles from here and almost eight hundred years away… I loved her.”

“Was she very much like me?”

“You are the same woman, Agla. I don’t know how it can be, or why, but you and she are the same.”

“Do you love me, then?”

“Of course I love you,” I said, without an instant’s hesitation. “I have loved you through all of time. From the beginning of the world I’ve loved you, and I will love you until the world crumbles into dust.”

She lifted her face up to mine and I kissed her. “And I love you, mighty warrior. I have loved you all my life. I have waited for you since I have been old enough to remember, and now that I have found you, I will never let you go away from me.

I held her tightly and felt both our hearts beating. Deep in the back of my mind, though, was the knowledge that Ahriman was on his way to Karakorum, where I must go, and that he had been living in this camp, even though Agla had told me that she had never seen him.

For three days I told Subotai everything I knew about the Europe of the thirteenth century. Only gradually did I realize that his interest was neither esthetic nor academic, but strictly pragmatic. This general who had led conquering armies for his Khan from the windswept wastes of the Gobi across the grassy steppes all the way to the Ukraine was now intent on pushing farther west. He intended to sweep through Europe and plant the yak-tail standard of the Mongols on the shore of the great ocean that he had never seen.

“But why?” I asked him, at last. “You already share in an empire that stretches from Cathayto the Caspian Sea. Soon Hulagu’s army will take Baghdad and Jerusalem. Why go farther?”

Subotai was a plain, direct man, not given to pretenses. I could imagine the answers I would have gotten to that question if I had asked it of Caesar Augustus, Napoleon, Hitler, or any of the other conquerors whom the Europeans called “civilized.” But as he sat inside his own tent, dressed in leather pants, a rough shirt, and a leather vest studded with steel bolts, Subotai gave me the unvarnished answer of a barbarian.

“Since I was a young man and swore allegiance to the old High Khan, the Perfect Warrior, I have led armies in conquest, it is true. But always for him or for his sons. Now I am an old man and have not many years left. I have seen much of the world, but there is still more that I have not seen. I share in the empire, it is true, but no part of it is my own. The sons of the Perfect Warrior and his grandsons have inherited the lands that I have helped to conquer. Now I wish to have lands of my own, so that my sons will have a place within the empire that is equal to those of Hulagu and Kubilai and the other grandsons of the old High Khan.”

There was no trace of bitterness in his words, no hint of envy or anger. He was merely stating the situation clearly, and more succinctly than any politician ever would.

“Would not the ruling High Khan, Ogotai, give you a share of the empire for your own, so that you could pass it on to your sons?”

“He would, if I asked him for such. But that is not the best way. Better to find new lands and add them to the empire.”

I thought I understood. “That way there would not be jealousy or conflict among the Orkhons, such as Hulagu.”

He gave me a patient sigh. “We have no jealousy or conflict among ourselves. We are ruled by the Yassa, the laws of the High Khan. We are not dogs, to fight with one another over a bone.”