Arslan nodded. He motioned to one of the warriors supporting Jelme and took his place, pulling his son's arm around his neck like an embrace. With the other man, he began walking Jelme between the gers, talking to him as he went.

The growing crowd of warriors, women, and children did not move. They would not go back to sleep until they were certain their khan would live. Kokchu turned from them, filled with the need to make a paste of charcoal that could soak up whatever poison Jelme had taken in. It would be little use to Genghis, but he would bring a second bowl for him as well. As he approached the ring of staring faces, they gave way before him and it was then that he saw Temuge pushing his way through to the front. Malice sparkled in Kokchu's eyes.

"You are too late to help the khan," Kokchu said softly as Temuge came close. "His brothers killed the assassin and Jelme and I kept him alive."

"Assassin?" Temuge exclaimed, staring around at the misery and fear on so many faces. His gaze passed over the dark-clad figure lying sprawled on the ground, and he swallowed in horror.

"Some things must be handled in the old ways," Kokchu told him. "They cannot be counted or put into one of your lists."

Temuge reacted to the shaman's scorn as if he had been struck. "You dare to speak so to me?" he said.

Kokchu shrugged and strode away. He had not been able to resist the barb, though he knew he would regret it. That night, death had walked the camp and Kokchu was in his element.

The crowd became thicker as late arrivals pressed forward, desperate for news. Torches were lit across the camp as they waited for dawn. The body of the assassin lay crushed and broken on the ground, and they stared at it in simple dread, unwilling to come too close.

When Kokchu returned with two bowls of thick black liquid, he thought they resembled a herd of yaks on a day of slaughter, miserable and dark-eyed but unable to understand. Arslan held his son's jaw and tilted his head as Kokchu forced the bitter liquid into him. Jelme choked and coughed, spattering black drops onto his father's face. He had regained some awareness in the time it had taken to grind the charcoal, and Kokchu did not linger with him. He pressed the half-empty bowl into Arslan's free hand and went on with the other. Genghis could not die, not in the shadow of Yenking. Kokchu was filled with a cold dread as he considered the future. He crushed his own fear as he entered the tiny ger, dipping his head to pass under the lintel. Confidence was part of his trade and he would not let them see him so shaken.

As dawn approached, Khasar and Kachiun came out, blind to the thousands of eyes that fastened on them. Khasar retrieved his sword from where it had stuck in the dead man's chest and kicked the lolling head before sheathing the blade.

"Does the khan live?" someone called.

Khasar cast a weary gaze over them, not knowing who had spoken. "He lives," he said. His words were repeated as a whisper until they all knew.

Kachiun picked up his own blade from where it had fallen and raised his head at the sound. He was helpless to aid his brother in the ger, and perhaps that was why his temper kindled at the sight of them.

"Will our enemies sleep while we are gathered here?" Kachiun snapped. "They will not. Go home to your gers and wait for news." Under his fierce gaze, the warriors turned away first, pressing through the throng of women and children. They too began to drift away, staring backwards as they went.

Kachiun stood with Khasar as if they guarded the ger where Genghis lay. The khan's second wife, Chakahai, had come, her face a mask of pale fear. All the men had looked to Borte to see how she would react, but she had only nodded to the Xi Xia woman, accepting her presence. In the silence, Kachiun could hear the drone of Kokchu's chanting in the ger. For a moment, he did not want to return to the fetid interior, packed with those who loved his brother. His own grief felt undermined somehow by the presence of the others. He breathed deeply in the cold air, clearing his head.

"There is nothing more we can do," he said. "Dawn is not far off and there are things we must discuss. Walk with me, Khasar, for a little while."

Khasar followed him to where they would not be heard. It was a long time before they were clear of the camp, their footsteps crunching on frozen grass.

"What is it? What do you want?" Khasar said at last, stopping his brother with a hand on his arm.

Kachiun turned to him, his face darkly furious. "We failed tonight. We failed to keep the camp safe. I should have considered that the emperor would send assassins. I should have had more guards watching the walls."

Khasar was too tired to debate the point. "You cannot change it now," he said. "If I know you, it will not happen again."

"One time could be enough," Kachiun snapped. "If Genghis dies, what then?"

Khasar shook his head. He did not want to think of that. As he hesitated, Kachiun gripped him by the shoulders, almost shaking him.

"I don't know!" Khasar replied. "If he dies, we will return home to the Khenti mountains and lay him out for the hawks and vultures. He is a khan; what would you expect me to say?"

Kachiun let his hands fall. "If we do that, the emperor will claim a great victory against us." He seemed almost to be speaking to himself and Khasar did not interrupt. He could not begin to imagine the future if Genghis were not there.

"The emperor would see our army retreat," Kachiun went on grimly. "In a year, every Chin city would know we had been turned back."

Khasar still said nothing.

"Can't you see, brother?" Kachiun said. "We would lose everything."

"We could return," Khasar replied, yawning. Had he slept at all? He wasn't sure.

Kachiun snorted. "Within two years, they would be attacking us. The emperor has seen what we can do and he will not make the same mistakes again. One chance we have made for ourselves, Khasar. You cannot wound a bear and run. It will chase you down."

"Genghis will live," Khasar said stubbornly. "He is too strong to fall."

"Open your eyes, brother!" Kachiun replied. "Genghis can die like any other man. If he does, who will lead the tribes, or will we see them splinter apart? How easy would it be then for the Chin army when they come hunting?"

Khasar saw the first pink light of dawn behind Yenking in the distance. He welcomed it in a night he'd thought would never end. Kachiun was right. If Genghis died, the new nation would break apart. The old khans would assert their authority over the quarreling tribes. He shook his head to clear it.

"I understand what you are saying," he told Kachiun. "I am not a fool. You want me to accept you as khan."

Kachiun stood very still at that. There was no other way, but if Khasar could not see it, the new day would begin with bloodshed as the tribes fought to leave or remained loyal. Genghis had bound them together. At the first hint of weakness, the khans would taste freedom and fight to keep it.

Kachiun took a deep breath, his voice calm. "Yes, brother. If Genghis dies today, the tribes will need to feel a strong hand on their necks."

"I am older than you," Khasar said softly. "I command as many warriors."

"You are not the man to lead the nation. You know it." Kachiun's heart was racing with the strain of making Khasar understand. "If you think you are, I will take an oath to you. The generals will follow my lead and carry the khans with them. I will not fight you for this, Khasar, not with so much at stake."

Khasar knuckled the tiredness out of his eyes as he thought it through. He knew what it must have cost Kachiun to make the offer. The thought of leading the tribes was intoxicating, something he had not dreamed of before. It tempted him. Yet he was not the one who had seen the dangers to the fragile nation. That remained like a thorn in his flesh to worry him. The generals would come to him expecting him to solve their problems, to see a way through difficulties that they could not. He would even have to plan battles, with triumph or failure resting on his word.