“The Yassa commands us to be hospitable to strangers who enter our camp,” he said, his voice suddenly firm and clear. “This man is an emissary from a distant land. He is not to be tested like a freshly broken pony or a newly forged blade of steel.”

Kassar was not satisfied. “But Ahriman warned us…”

“I have spoken,” said the High Khan.

That ended the discussion.

Ogotai leaned back into the mound of cushions. He glanced at the brimming wine goblet by his side but did not touch it. Nodding slightly toward the women at his left, he said, “I was told that you have a woman with you, a healer. Does she please you? Would you like another? Have you enough servants to take care of you?”

“I am quite satisfied, thank you, most generous one,” I replied.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if a flash of pain had suddenly attacked him. When he opened them again, he said, “You are an emissary from the western lands. Subotai’s message said that you know much about the lands beyond the black-earth country. What is your mission here? Why have you come to me?”

Why, indeed? I knew it would be senseless to warn him against Ahriman and get into a finger-pointing contest. Ye Liu Chutsai had warned me that, when in doubt, the Mongols took the easiest way out — by chopping heads in both directions.

It was my turn to search deep into Ogotai’s eyes. I saw pain there, and understanding, and something I had not expected to find in the eyes of a barbarian emperor: friendship. This man who could direct the burning of cities and the slaughter of whole populations had decided, on the strength of my shabby footgear, that I was no threat to him. I liked him. He was willing to trust me, and he was not the drunken fool that Ye Liu Chutsai had led me to believe he would be.

What could I tell him, except the truth?

Lowering my voice, I said, “My lord High Khan, may we speak where others cannot hear? What I have to say to you is for your ears only.”

He thought in silence for several moments before nodding to me. “Later. I will send for you.” Then, raising his voice so that the others could easily hear him, he asked, “How did you make the trip across the Tien Shan in those ridiculous sandals?”

The Mongols laughed and joked among themselves as I launched into a description of riding from Persia without a pair of boots. The night wore on and they asked me about my country and the sea that separated it from Europe. I described the Atlantic Oceanas a wild and tempestuous sea, an unpassable gulf — which, for these horsemen, it truly was.

“Then how did you cross it?” Kassar suddenly asked. “By wizardry?”

The tent went absolutely silent. Even the High Khan looked at me keenly. I had talked myself into a trap.

“Not by wizardry,” I said, desperately trying to find an answer. “You have seen the sailing craft ofCathay, haven’t you?”

Some of the Mongols nodded. Kassar was among those who did not.

“Ships such as those could cross the ocean, if they were lucky enough not to be caught by storms.” I thought of the Vikings, who had made their voyages to Iceland, Greenland, and even Labrador in their open longboats.

“Then why can’t we cross in such vessels?” Kassar demanded.

“A small number of men could,” I said. “But to transport an army would take hundreds of ships. Many of them would be caught by storms or whirlpools or the monsters that come up from the deep.” I silently prayed that my words would not someday reach Spain and delay Columbus. “An entire army could never make the crossing without losing more men than it would lose in many battles.”

Ogotai frowned. “My nephew Kubilai dreams of sending an army across the water to conquer Japan. What do you prophesy about that?”

I hesitated, unwilling to step into another trap. “I make no prophecies, O High Khan. I am an emissary, not a prophet.”

He made a small, grudging grunt. He would have liked to have heard a prediction, but I had no intention of getting in the middle of court politics.

The talk went on for hours, and toward dawn, when even the unmoving Ye Liu Chutsai began to look weary, Ogotai clapped his hands and announced that he was going to his bed. The rest of us got to our feet, bowed, and drifted out of the tent. I noticed that three of the women accompanied Ogotai as he headed for his sleeping tent.

I had barely made it halfway back to my house, though, when a warrior ran up to me and told me that the High Khan wanted to see me. My escort and I made an about-face and followed the warrior to the High Khan’s private tent.

He was sitting on a high bed, his legs dangling over the edge. The tent was lit only by a few candles. The women were nowhere in sight.

The warrior stopped just inside the entrance and bowed. I did likewise.

“Man of the West,” said the High Khan, “I want you to know that there are six armed guards in this tent.”

I peered into the shadows and, sure enough, saw the glint of candlelight on steel helmets and jeweled sword hilts.

“They are my personal guards,” Ogotai went on, “and extremely loyal to me. Each of them is deaf and dumb: they cannot hear or speak. But, at the first sign of danger to me, they will fall upon you and slay you without hesitation or mercy.”

“Most High Khan, you are as wise as your position among men is lofty.”

“Spoken like a true emissary,” he replied, grinning at me. He dismissed the warrior who had accompanied me, and then, pointing to a stool next to the bed, he commanded me to sit.

“Now then, what is this message from the West that must not be heard by anyone except me?”

“My lord High Khan, the truth is that I was sent here to kill a man — the one known as Ahriman.”

“Then you are not an emissary?”

“Oh, I am an emissary. High Khan. I bring you a message from my distant land, a message that explains why I have been sent here. This message holds the key to the future of the great empire that you and your father have created.”

“And my brothers,” he murmured. “They have all done their share. More than I, truly.”

“Great Khan,” I said, “I come from a land that is not only far away in distance, but in time. I have traveled across many centuries to reach you. Seven hundred years from now, the name of the first High Khan will be known and praised throughout the world. The Mongol empire will be known as the greatest empire that ever existed.”

He took the time-travel idea without blinking an eye. “And will the empire still exist in that distant time?”

“In a way, yes. It will have given rise to new nations.Chinawill be strong because you have united the Cathayan kingdoms of the north and south.Russia will be powerful: the lands that you know as those of the Muscovites and the Cossacks, the black-earth country and much of what was once Karesm — all that will be welded together into a nation that calls itself Russia.”

“And the Mongols?” Ogotai asked. “What of the Mongols?”

How could I tell him that his descendants would be a minor satellite of the Soviet Union?

“The Mongols will live here, by the Gobi, on the grasslands that have always been their home. And they will live in peace, unthreatened by any foe.”

His head went back slightly and he made a barely audible hissing sound. I could not tell if he was in pain or if the sound meant satisfaction.

“The Mongols will live in peace,” he whispered, as if talking to himself. “At last.”

Sensing what he wanted to hear, I went on, “There will be no more war among the tribes of the Gobi, no more blood feuds between families. The law of the High Khan, the Yassa, will be revered and obeyed.”

Ogotai nodded happily. “It is good. I am content.”

I wondered what to tell him next, how to get back to the subject of Ahriman and my mission.

“You wonder why I am happy at the thought of peace?” Ogotai asked. “Why the High Khan of a race of warriors does not seek further conquests?”