Genghis: Birth of an Empire by Conn Iggulden Page B

his concern. The bones had been thrown and the future laid out for all of them. A strong man could bend the sky to suit him, but only for himself, Temujin knew. They were on their own.
    He raised a hand in final farewell to his mother and urged Whitefoot into a snorting trot at his father’s side. He did not think he could bear to look back, so he did not. The sounds of the waking tribe and the whinnying calls of horses faded quickly, and after a short time there was just the thud of hooves and jingling harnesses, and their people were left behind.
    * * *
    Y esugei rode in silence as the sun rose ahead of them. Hoelun’s people were closer than they had been in three years, and it would be a journey of only a few days alone with his son. By the end of it, he would know whether the boy had it in him to rule the tribe. He had known with Bekter, after only the first day. His oldest boy was no wild flame, it was true, but the tribe needed a steady hand and Bekter was growing into a fine man.
    Yesugei frowned to himself as he rode. Some part of his mind scanned the land around them for a sight of an enemy or an animal. He could never become lost while every hill was sharp in his mind, and every clipped goat ear showed him the local tribes, like a pattern stretching over the land.
    He had enjoyed the ride with Bekter, though he had taken pains not to show it. It was hard to know how a boy became a leader of men, but Yesugei was certain it was not through being spoiled or kept soft. He raised his eyes to the sky father at the thought of fat Temuge back in the gers. If the little boy had not had so many strong brothers, Yesugei would have taken him away from his mother’s influence, perhaps to be fostered with another tribe. Perhaps he still would, on his return.
    Yesugei shifted in the saddle, unable to maintain his usual drifting thoughts while Temujin rode at his side. The boy was too obviously aware of his surroundings, his head jerking at every new sight. Bekter had been a peaceful companion, but something about Temujin’s silence chafed on his father.
    It did not help that the route to the Olkhun’ut took them near the red hill, so that Yesugei was forced to consider his son’s part in fetching the eagle chicks. He felt Temujin’s eyes on him as he looked at the sharp slopes, but the stubborn boy would not give him an opening.
    Yesugei grunted in exasperation, unsure why his temper was growling on such a fine, blue day.
    “You were lucky to reach the nest at that height,” he said.
    “It was not luck,” Temujin replied.
    Yesugei cursed inwardly. The boy was as prickly as a thorn bush.
    “You were lucky not to fall, boy, even with Kachiun helping you.”
    Temujin narrowed his eyes. His father had seemed too drunk to be listening to Chagatai’s songs. Had he spoken to Kachiun? Temujin was not sure how to react, so he said nothing.
    Yesugei watched him closely, and after a time, he shook his head and thought of Hoelun. He would try again, for her sake, or he might never hear the end of it.
    “It was a fine climb, I heard. Kachiun said you were nearly torn off the rock by the eagle coming back to the nest.”
    Temujin softened slightly, shrugging. He was absurdly pleased that his father had shown an interest, though his cold face hid it all.
    “He forced it down with a stone,” he replied, giving measured praise with care. Kachiun was his favorite brother by far, but he had learned the good sense of hiding likes and dislikes from others, almost an instinct by the end of his twelfth year.
    Yesugei had fallen silent again, but Temujin searched his thoughts for something to break the silence before it could settle and grow firm.
    “Did your father take you to the Olkhun’ut?” he said.
    Yesugei snorted, eyeing his son. “I suppose you are old enough now to hear. No, I found your mother with two of her brothers when I was out riding. I saw that she was beautiful and strong.” He sighed, and smacked his lips, his