Lords of the Bow Read Online Free PDF

think to understand it in a single evening. Your son will heal now, as he would have done if the growth had not begun to writhe in him.” He thought for a moment. He did not know the woman, but surely she would tell Genghis what had happened. To make certain, he spoke again.
    “I must ask that you do not tell anyone of what you have seen. There are still tribes where they kill those who practice the old magic. It is seen as too dangerous.” He shrugged. “Perhaps it is.” With that, he knew the tale would spread right through the camp before he woke the next day. There were always some who wanted a charm against illness, or a curse on an enemy. They would leave milk and meat at his ger, and with power came respect and fear. He longed for them to be afraid, for when they were, they would give him anything. What did it matter if he had not saved a life this time? The belief would be there when another life hung in his hands. He had dropped a stone in the river and the ripples would go far.

    Genghis and his generals were alone in the great ger as the moon rose above the host of his people. The day had been busy for all of them, but they could not sleep while he remained awake, and there would be yawns and bleary eyes the following day. Genghis seemed as fresh as he had that morning, when he had welcomed two hundred men and women from a Turkic tribe so far to the northwest that they could not understand more than a few words of what he said. Still, they had come.
    “Every day brings more of them, with two moons left of summer,” Genghis said, looking round proudly at men who had been with him since the first days. At fifty years of age, Arslan was growing old after the years of war. He and his son, Jelme, had come to Genghis when he had nothing but his wits and his three brothers. Both had remained utterly loyal through hard years, and Genghis had let them prosper and take wives and wealth. Genghis nodded to the swordsmith who had become his general, pleased to see the man’s back as straight as ever.
    Temuge did not attend their discussions, even when he was well. Of all the brothers, he had shown no aptitude for tactics. Genghis loved him, but he could not trust him to lead others. He shook his head, realizing that his thoughts were wandering. He too was weary, though he would not allow it to show.
    “Some of the new tribes have never even heard of the Chin,” Kachiun said. “The ones who came this morning dress like nothing I’ve ever seen. They are not Mongols, as we are.”
    “Perhaps,” Genghis said. “But I will make them welcome. Let them prove themselves in war before we judge them. They are not Tartars, or blood enemies to any man here. At least I will not be called to untangle some grudge going back a dozen generations. They will be useful.”
    He took a draught from a rough clay cup, smacking his lips at the bitterness of the black
airag.
    “Be wary in the camp, my brothers. They have come because
not
to come invites us to destroy them. They do not trust us yet. Many of them know only my name and nothing else.”
    “I have men listening at every fire,” Kachiun said. “There will always be some who seek an advantage in such a gathering. Even as we speak here, there will be a thousand other conversations discussing us. Even whispers will be heard. I will know if I have to act.”
    Genghis nodded to his brother, proud of him. Kachiun had grown into a stocky man with an immense breadth of shoulder from his bow practice. They shared a bond that Genghis could claim with no one else, not even Khasar.
    “Still, my back itches when I walk through the camp. While we wait, they grow restless, but there are more to come and I cannot move yet. The Uighurs alone will be valuable. Those who are already here may test us, so be ready and let no insult go unpunished. I will trust you in your judgment, even if you throw a dozen heads at my feet.”
    The generals in the ger met each other’s eyes without smiling.