I bowed my head to his superior wisdom.

“The empire must continue to expand,” he went on. “That was the true genius of the original High Khan. He saw clearly that these barbarian tribes must continue to move outward, to find enemies that must be conquered, or else their empire will collapse. These horse warriors are utterly brave; they live for war. If there were no enemies beyond their borders, they would fall back to their old ways and begin fighting among themselves. That was the way they lived before Timujin welded the warring tribes of the Gobi into the mightiest conquering army the world has ever seen.”

“That is why the empire continues to expand,” I said.

“It must expand. Or collapse. There is no middle way. Not yet.”

“And as the empire expands, the Mongols slaughter helpless people by the tens of thousands and burn cities to the ground.”

He nodded his head.

“And you help them to do it? Why? You are a civilized man. Why do you help the people who invaded your land?”

Ye Liu Chutsai closed his eyes for a moment. It made his old, lined face look like a death’s mask in the flickering firelight.

When he opened his eyes again, he said, “There is but one true civilization in the world, the civilization of the land that you call Cathay, or China. I am a son of the Chin, the Chinese. I serve the Mongol High Khan so that civilization may be extended to the four corners of the world.”

I felt confused. “But the Mongols have conquered Cathay. Kubilai Khan rules in Yan-king now.”

The old man smiled. “Yes, and already Kubilai — who was born in a felt yurt on the grasslands not far from this very spot — already he is more Chinese than Mongol. He wears silk robes and paints beautiful landscapes and deals with the intrigues of the court as delicately as any grandson of a mandarin.”

His meaning became clear to me. I leaned back and drew in a deep breath of understanding. “The Mongols are the warriors, but the Chinese will be the true conquerors.”

“Exactly,” said Ye Liu Chutsai. “The Mongols are the sword arm of the empire, but the civilization of the Chin is its brain.”

Agla spoke up. “Then the Mongols are serving you, aren’t they?”

“Oh no, by my sacred ancestors, no, not at all!” He seemed genuinely upset by such an idea. “We are all serving the High Khan, Ogotai. I am his slave — willingly.”

“But only because the High Khan is paving the way for a Chinese empire that spans the world,” Agla insisted.

Ye Liu Chutsai went silent again, and I realized that he was arranging his thoughts so that he could present them to us as clearly as possible.

“Timujin,” he said softly, as if afraid someone would hear him use the revered name, “hit upon the idea of conquest as a means to keep the tribes of the Gobi from annihilating each other. It was a stroke of genius. But it requires that the Mongols constantly expand their empire.”

“Yes, you told us that,” Agla said.

“Of what use is all this bloodshed and misery, however?” the mandarin asked. “What purpose does it serve, other than keeping these nomadic warriors from each other’s throats?”

Neither Agla nor I had an answer for that.

“On the other hand,” he went on, “here is the civilization of the Chin, the highest civilization the world has ever seen. It is not warlike, so it has no way of spreading the fruits of its culture to other lands.”

“The Mongols invade Cathay,” I took up, “but the Chinese civilization conquers them, eventually.”

“It takes a generation or two,” Ye Liu Chutsai said, agreeing with me. “Sometimes longer.”

“So your task is to keep the Mongol empire growing, so it won’t collapse, for a long enough time to allow it to evolve into a Chinese empire, ruled by civilized mandarins who will control the entire known world.”

He nodded. “A single, unified empire that girdles the entire world, from sea to sea. Think of what that would mean! An end to war. An end to the bloodletting. A world of peace, ruled by law instead of the sword. It is the goal to which I have devoted my entire life.”

A Chinese empire, carved out by Mongol warriors, ruled by silk-robed mandarins. Ye Liu Chutsai saw the highest civilization in history creating a world of peace. I saw a stifling autocracy that would stamp out individual freedom.

“I share my vision with you,” the mandarin said, “because I want you to understand the problem you have raised for me.”

“Problem?” I asked.

He sighed. “Ogotai is not the man his father was. He is too amiable to be a good ruler, too content with the wealth he has today to understand the need to drive constantly onward.”

“But you said…”

“Fortunately,” he went on, stopping me with one upraised, slender, long-nailed finger, “the dynamics of the empire are still powerful. Hulagu, Subotai, Kubilai and the other Orkhons and princes along the periphery of the Mongol conquests still press onward. Ogotai stays here inKarakorum, content to let the others do the fighting while he enjoys the fruits of their conquests. It is not a healthy situation.”

“But what has that to do with us?” Agla asked.

“Ogotai is a superstitious man,” Ye Liu Chutsai answered. “And his soothsayers have been warning him, lately, to beware of a stranger from the West — because he will attempt to murder the High Khan.”

I said firmly, “I too have a warning for him.”

“You are from the West,” Ye Liu Chutsai said. “So is the one who calls himself Ahriman.”

“He is here!” I blurted.

“You know him?”

“Yes. It is he whom I must warn Ogotai against.”

The mandarin smiled vaguely. “Ahriman has already warned Ogotai against you, the fair-skinned man of great strength from beyond the western sea.”

I sat there on the cushion, wondering where this would lead. My word against Ahriman’s. How could I convince…

“There is something more,” Ye Liu Chutsai added. “Something that makes the problem acute.”

“What is it?”

“A threat to the empire has arisen.”

“A threat?” I echoed.

“What could possibly threaten an empire that has conquered half the world?” Agla asked.

“Earlier today you used the word ‘assassin’ when you spoke to the guards.”

“Yes, after those two men tried to kill me.”

“ ‘Assassin’ is a new word here. It comes from the land of Persia, where a cult — perhaps it is religious, I do not yet know — has sprung up. It is a murder cult, and its members are called assassins. I am told the word stems from a Persian name for a drug these men use: hashish.”

“I don’t understand what this has to do with me,” I said.

“The man who directs this murder cult is as clever as a thousand devils. He recruits young men and promises them paradise if they follow his bidding. He gives them hashish, and no doubt other drugs as well, to show them a vision of the paradise that will be theirs after their mortal bodies perish. Small wonder that the youths are willing to give up their lives to do their master’s will.”

“I know of these drugs,” Agla said. “They are so powerful that a man will do anything to have them.”

Ye Liu Chutsai dipped his head once in acknowledgment. “The addicts are ordered to kill a man. Even though they know that they themselves will be killed as a result, they do so gladly, believing that they will awaken in an eternal paradise.”

I said nothing, even though I knew that what appears to be death is not the end of existence.

“In Persia, thousands of merchants, noblemen, even imams and princes have been… assassinated. The cult has merely to warn a man that he has been marked for death and so great is the terror that the man is willing to pay any price to placate the assassins. Thus the cult grows rich and powerful.”

“In Persia,” I said. The land of Ahriman and Ormazd, and their ancient prophet Zoroaster.

“It has grown far beyond Persia,” replied Ye Liu Chutsai. “All of Islam is gripped by the terror. And I fear that assassins have made their way here, to Karakorum, to kill the High Khan,”