Temuge swallowed nervously as he dropped his robe to the floor. It was as filthy as he was and he did not relish the idea of being scrubbed by strangers. He closed his eyes as the buckets were poured over his head, then kept them firmly closed as rough hands seemed to pummel his body, swaying him from side to side. The last buckets were freezing and he gasped.

Temuge stepped gingerly into the hot water. He felt the muscles in his back and thighs relax as he found a stone seat beneath the surface, and he grunted in appreciation. The feeling was exquisite. This was how a man should live! Behind him, Khasar slapped away the hands of the attendants as they reached out with their cloths. They stood frozen at his action, before one of them tried again. Without warning, Khasar snapped a fist into the side of the man's head, knocking him reeling onto the hard tiles.

Chen Yi roared with laughter. He called out an order and the slaves stood back. The one who had been felled rose warily, with his head bowed, as Khasar took up a cloth and wiped at his body until the rag was black. Temuge did not look as Khasar raised a leg onto a stone ledge along the wall to rub his genitals clean. He finished the process by upending a bucket over his own head, all the time glaring at the man he had struck.

Khasar handed the bucket back and murmured something that made the slave tense and set his jaw. Ho Sa endured the process with less fuss and they entered the water together, Khasar swearing in two languages as he lowered himself in.

The four men sat in silence for a time, before Chen Yi rose and plunged into the other pool. They copied him in silent frustration, tired of the routines and delays. In the second pool, Khasar hissed out a breath at the cold, plunging his head under the water and coming up roaring as new energy filled him. Neither of the Mongols had ever known hot water, but a cold dip was no worse than the rivers at home. Temuge looked longingly back at the steaming bath he had left, but did not return to it.

By the time they had settled themselves, Chen Yi was out and being dried by the towel slaves. Khasar and Temuge did not linger and climbed out after him, Khasar blowing like a beached fish. The two slaves did not approach Khasar a second time, instead handing him a large, rough piece of cloth to dry himself. He did so vigorously, his skin showing a fresh bloom. He had removed the string that held his hair, and it whipped around in long black strands.

Temuge looked at the sorry pile of soiled cloth that was his robe and was reaching for it when Chen Yi clapped his hands and the attendants brought in fresh ones. There was pleasure in losing the stink of the boats, Temuge thought, running his hands over the soft material. He could only guess what Chen Yi had in mind for them as they walked back to eat.

The food was plentiful, though Khasar and Temuge looked in vain for mutton among the dishes.

"What is this?" Khasar asked, picking up a piece of white flesh in his fingers.

"Snake in ginger," Chen Yi replied. He pointed to another bowl. "You will know dog, I am sure."

Khasar nodded. "When times are hard," he replied, dipping his fingers into a soup to search for another morsel. Showing no sign of distaste, Chen Yi took up a pair of wooden sticks and showed the Mongols how to grasp a piece of food between them. Only Ho Sa was comfortable and Chen Yi grew slightly flushed as both Khasar and Temuge dropped pieces of meat and rice on the cloth. Once more he showed them, this time putting the pieces onto the plates in front of the Mongols so that they could pick them up with their fingers.

Khasar held his temper. He had been scrubbed, dipped, and given clothes that itched. He was surrounded by strange things he did not understand, and anger simmered underneath the surface. When he gave up on the strange sticks and shoved them upright into a bowl of rice, Chen Yi actually clucked under his breath, removing them with a sharp gesture.

"To leave them so is an insult," Chen Yi said, "though you could not have known."

Khasar found a plate of skewered crickets easier to handle, biting into the line of fried insects with evident pleasure.

"This is better," he said, his mouth working busily. Temuge was prepared to copy whatever Chen Yi did and dipped balls of fried dough into salt water before chewing them. When the crickets were all gone, Khasar reached for a pile of oranges, taking two. After spitting out a piece of skin, he peeled the first with his thumbs and relaxed visibly as he pulled the flesh apart and ate it. He and his brother waited for Chen Yi to speak, their impatience obvious and growing.

When they had all finished, Chen Yi eyed Khasar's efforts with the orange, then placed his chopsticks on the table and said nothing as his slaves removed all evidence of the meal. When they were alone again, he sat back on his couch. His eyes lost their hooded look and gained once more the sharpness of the river master they knew.

"Why have you come to Baotou?" he said to Temuge.

"Trade," Temuge replied immediately. "We are merchants."

Chen Yi shook his head. "Merchants do not carry a Mongol bow, nor shoot one as your brother does. You are of that people. Why would you be here in the lands of the emperor?"

Temuge swallowed painfully as he tried to think. Chen Yi had known for a long time and not given them away, but he could not bring himself to trust the man, especially after so much strangeness and confusion.

"We are of the tribes of the great khan, yes," he said. "But we have come to open trade between our people."

"I am a trader. Make your offers to me," Chen Yi replied. His face gave nothing away, but Temuge could sense the little man's fierce curiosity.

"Ho Sa asked who you were to have so much wealth," Temuge said slowly, choosing the words. "You have this house and slaves, but you took the role of a smuggler on the river, bribing guards and staging a diversion at the city gate. Who are you that we should trust you?"

Chen Yi's gaze was cold as he studied them. "I am a man who is uncomfortable at the thought of you blundering around his city. How long would it take for you to be captured by Imperial soldiers? How long after that before you told them everything you have seen?"

He waited while Temuge translated for his brother.

"Tell him if we are killed or kept as prisoners, Baotou will be burned to the ground," Khasar said, tearing the second orange in two and sucking out a ragged half. "Genghis will come for us next year. He knows where we are and this little man will see his precious house in flames. Tell him that."

"You would do well to be quiet, brother, if we are to get out of here with our lives."

"Let him speak," Chen Yi said. "How would my city be burned if you are killed?"

To Temuge's horror, Chen Yi spoke in the language of the tribes. His accent was rough, but clear enough. He froze as he considered all the conversations Chen Yi had overheard in the weeks it had taken to reach Baotou.

"How do you know our tongue?" he demanded, forgetting his fear for a moment.

Chen Yi laughed, a high-pitched sound that did nothing to settle the men at the table.

"Did you think you were the first to travel to Chin lands? The Uighurs have ridden the silk road. Some have stayed." He clapped his hands and another man came into the room. He was as clean as they were and dressed in a simple Chin robe, but his face was Mongol and the breadth of his shoulders showed one who had been raised with the bow. Ho Sa and Temuge remained seated, but Khasar rose to greet him, clasping his hand and beating him on the back with his fist. The stranger beamed at the welcome.

"It is good to see a real face in this city," Khasar said.

The man seemed almost overcome to hear the words. "And for me," he said, glancing at Chen Yi. "How are the plains? I have not been home for many years."