Genghis could find nothing to criticize in their bearing as he looked them over. Jochi wore new armor, a little large on his frame. Chagatai still had the set he had been given. Only Ogedai wore the traditional padded deel robe, too small at ten to warrant a man's armor, even with the amount they had captured at the Badger's Mouth. The little boy regarded the cup of airag with some misgiving, but sipped it with the others, showing no expression.

"My little wolves," Genghis said with a smile. "You will all be men by the time I see you again. Have you spoken to your mother?"

"We have," Jochi replied. Genghis glanced at him and wondered at the depth of hostility in the boy's eyes. What had he ever done to deserve it?

Returning Jochi's dark gaze, Genghis spoke to them all.

"You will not be princes away from this camp. I have made that clear to your generals. There will be no special treatment for my sons. You will travel as any other warrior of the people, and when you are called to fight, there will be no one to save you because of who you are. Do you understand?"

His words seemed to suck the excitement out of them, their smiles fading. One by one, they nodded. Jochi drained his cup and put it down on the blanket.

"If you are raised to be officers," Genghis continued, "it will only be because you have shown yourselves to be quick thinking, skilled, and brave beyond the men around you. No one wants to be led by a fool, even a fool who is my son."

He paused, letting this sink in as his gaze fell on Chagatai.

"However, you are my sons and I expect to see the blood run true in each of you. The other warriors will be thinking of the next battle, or the last. You will be thinking of the nation you could lead. I expect you to find men you can trust and bind them to you. I expect you to push yourselves harder and more ruthlessly than anyone else ever could. When you are frightened, hide it. No one else will know and whatever causes it will pass. How you held yourself will be remembered."

There was so much to tell them. It was gratifying to have even Jochi hang on every word, but who else could tell them how to rule if not their own father? This was his last duty to the boys before they became men.

"When you are tired, never speak of it, and others will think you are made of iron. Do not allow another warrior to mock you, even in jest. It is something men do to see who has the strength to stand against them. Show them you will not be cowed, and if it means you must fight, well, that is what you must do."

"What if it is an officer who mocks us?" Jochi said softly.

Genghis looked sharply at him. "I have seen men try to deflect such things with a smile, or dipping their head, or even capering to make the others laugh all the harder. If you do that, you will never command. Take the orders you are given, but keep your dignity." He thought for a moment.

"From this day, you are no longer children. You too, Ogedai. If you have to fight, even if it is a friend, put him down as fast and hard as you possibly can. Kill if you have to, or spare him-but beware putting any man in your debt. Of all things, that causes resentment. Any warrior who raises his fist to you must know he is gambling with his life and that he will lose. If you cannot win at first, take revenge if it is the last thing you do. You are traveling with men who respect only strength greater than theirs, men harder than themselves. Above everything else, they respect success. Remember it."

His hard gaze swept across them and Ogedai shivered, feeling the cold of the words. Genghis did not smile to see it as he went on.

"Never allow yourself to become soft, or one day there will be a man who will take everything away from you. Listen to those who know more than you and be the last in every conversation to speak, until they wait on you to show them the way. And beware of weak men who come to you because of your name. Choose those who follow you as carefully as wives. If I have only one skill that has brought me to rule our people, it is that. I can see the difference between a blustering warrior and a man like Tsubodai, or Jelme, or Khasar."

The ghost of a sneer touched Jochi's mouth before he looked away, and Genghis refused to allow his irritation to show.

"One more thing before you go. Be wary of spilling your seed." Jochi flushed then and Chagatai's mouth dropped open. Only Ogedai looked confused. Genghis went on.

"Boys who spend each night playing with their parts become weak, obsessed with the needs of their body. Keep your hands away and treat desire as any other weakness. Abstinence will make you strong. You will have wives and mistresses in time."

As the three boys sat there in embarrassed silence, he untied his sword and scabbard. He had not planned it, but it seemed right and he wanted to do something they would remember.

"Take it, Chagatai," he said. He slapped the scabbard into his son's hands. Chagatai almost fumbled it in amazed pleasure. Genghis watched as the boy held the wolf's-head hilt up to catch the sun, then slowly drew the blade his father had carried for all his young life. The eyes of the others were on the shining metal, bright with envy.

"My father, Yesugei, wore it on the day he died," Genghis said softly. " His father had it made at a time when the Wolves were the enemy of every other tribe. It has taken lives and seen the birth of a nation. Be sure you do not dishonor it."

Chagatai bowed where he sat, overcome. "I will not, lord," he replied.

Genghis did not look at Jochi's white face. "Now go. When you return to your generals, I will sound the horn. We will see each other again when you are men and we can meet as equals."

"I look forward to that day, Father," Jochi said suddenly.

Genghis raised his pale gaze to him, but said nothing. The boys did not speak to each other as they galloped away on the hard ground and they did not look back.

When Genghis was once again alone with Kachiun, he felt his brother's stare.

"Why did you not give the blade to Jochi?" Kachiun asked.

"To a Tartar bastard?" Genghis snapped. "I see his father looking back at me whenever we meet."

Kachiun shook his head, saddened that Genghis could be so blind in this one thing and see so far in all the rest.

"We are a strange family, brother," he said. "If you leave us alone, we grow weak and soft. If you challenge us, make us hate, we grow strong enough to strike back." Genghis looked at him questioningly and Kachiun sighed.

"If you truly wanted to weaken Jochi, you should have given him the sword," Kachiun said. "Now he will think of you as an enemy and he will make himself iron, just as you did. Is that what you intended?"

Genghis blinked, astonished at the idea. Kachiun saw things with painful clarity and he could not find a response.

Kachiun cleared his throat. "It was interesting advice, brother," he said, "especially the bit about spilling their seed."

Genghis ignored him, watching the distant figures rejoin the squares of warriors.

"It didn't seem to do Khasar any harm," Kachiun said.

Genghis chuckled, holding out his hand for Kachiun's horn. He rose to his feet then and blew a long deep note across the plain. Before it had died away, the tumans rumbled into movement, his people riding to conquer. He ached to be with them, but he would yet see Yenking fall.

Temuge groaned as his servant massaged the cares of the day from his shoulders. The Chin people seemed to have an idea of civilization that no one among the tribes could match. He smiled sleepily at the thought of a warrior being asked to work the muscles of his calves with oil. The man would either take it as an insult or pound them like a woolen fleece.

At first he had regretted the loss of his first servant. The man had rarely spoken and indeed knew nothing of the Mongol tongue. Yet he had introduced Temuge to a structured day, so that events seemed to flow around him without tension. Temuge had become accustomed to waking after dawn and bathing. His servant would then dress him and prepare a light breakfast. He would read the reports of his men until late morning, then begin the proper business of the day. Losing such a man to an assassin's blade had seemed a tragedy at first.