Lords of the Bow by Conn Iggulden

of Chin trade caravans, their dress and customs, and, most of all, their weapons and armor. It was true that merchants may not have had the best of guards, but each scrap of information fell upon the desert of Genghis’s imagination like spring water, vanishing deep.
    “Peace has brought you wealth and security,” Genghis said as Barchuk paused to clear his throat with a gulp of tea. “Perhaps you could have approached the king of the Xi Xia to ally against me. Did you consider it?”
    “Of course,” Barchuk replied, disarming him with honesty. “But if I have given you the impression of their friendship, it is false. They trade with us because they have markets for the skins of snow leopards from the mountains, for hard woods, even seeds of rare plants to aid them in their study of healing. In return, they sell us raw iron, carpets, tea, and sometimes a scroll they have already copied many times.” He paused and smiled wryly at the gathering of men. “They bring their litters and their guards into Uighur towns, but their distaste can be read on every face, even those they call slaves.” The memories had brought a flush of irritation to his face and he wiped his brow before continuing. “Since I have learned their language, I know them too well to ask for support. You have to see them to understand, lord. They care nothing for those who are not Xi Xia subjects. Even the Chin regard them as a separate people, though they share many of the same customs. They pay tribute to the Chin emperor and, though under his protection, still consider themselves apart from their powerful neighbor. Their arrogance is colossal, lord.”
    Barchuk leaned forward, reaching out to tap Genghis on his knee. He did not seem to notice the way the surrounding men bristled.
    “We have had their scraps for many generations, lord, while they kept the best meat behind their forts and walls.”
    “And you would see them broken,” Genghis murmured.
    “I would. All I ask is that their libraries are turned over to the Uighur for study. In addition, we have seen rare gems and a stone that is like milk and fire. They do not trade such items no matter what we offer.”
    Genghis watched the khan closely as he spoke. Barchuk knew he had no right to demand spoils from war. The tribes were not paid to fight and anything they won or looted was theirs by tradition. Barchuk asked a great deal, but Genghis could not think of another group who might want the libraries of the Xi Xia. The very idea made him want to smile.
    “You may have the scrolls, Barchuk. My word on it. Anything else goes to the victors and is in the hands of the sky father. I can give you no special claim.”
    Barchuk sat back and gave a reluctant nod. “It is enough, with everything else we will win from them. I have seen my people ridden down in the road by their horses, lord. I have seen them starve while the Xi Xia grew fat on crops they would not share. I have brought my warriors to extract a price for their arrogance and our towns and fields are empty behind us. The Uighur are with you, gers, horses, salt, and blood.”
    Genghis reached out and the two men bound the oath with a quick clasp that hid the seriousness of such a declaration. The tribes waited outside the ger and Genghis would demand a similar oath from them all as soon as he was ready. To offer it in private was a demonstration of support that Genghis did not treat lightly.
    “I ask one thing of you, Barchuk, before we go out to them,” he said.
    Barchuk paused in the middle of rising and his face became a mask as he realized the talk was not over.
    “My youngest brother has expressed an interest in learning,” Genghis said. “Stand, Temuge, where he can see you.” Barchuk looked round at the slender young man who rose and bowed to him. He acknowledged the gesture with a stiff dip of his head before turning back to Genghis.
    “My shaman, Kokchu, will lead him in this, when the time comes, but I would like them