The Tiger Queens (50 page)

Güyük hesitated, and I could almost hear him mulling this over in his
mind. “The winds will destroy that old tent in the months to come. You may do as you wish with it.”

I neglected to mention that my sons and I repaired Borte’s felts every spring and cleared away its spider webs, and would do so for Toregene’s as well. A third tent would soon join those two, but Güyük need not know about that either.

“You are a great and noble Khan,” I said through gritted teeth. “The Golden Family and your people are already speculating over which lucky woman you shall make your Khatun.”

The Great Khan leaned back against his throne. I had been a great beauty when I first married Tolui, but now Güyük’s eyes appraised my flat breasts and thickening waist, the hips that had carried my sons and the gray that had spread from my temples to cover most of my hair. His lip quivered with disgust, but a slow smile spread across his lips. “I could still marry you, Sorkhokhtani Beki. Absorb your lands into my own.”

I’d sooner die than let that happen. Better yet, I’d see him die.

I answered with a frown. “You would gain nothing save an old woman in your bed, for I’d come to you empty-handed. My sons are no longer children; they rule their father’s lands and provide for their widowed mother.”

Güyük stood and descended the dais stairs, bringing the parchment with him with its dark outline of the Goryeo peninsula. Perhaps he thought to continue the conquests of his father, first attack Goryeo and then move against the territories of the Golden Family.

“You may be right, Sorkhokhtani Beki, and I’ve no need of a withered old woman in my bed,” he said. “Not when I might have my pick of any ripe young woman the empire over. I could take as many wives as I’d like, and install Oghul Ghaimish as Khatun.”

I shook my head. “Her mind is unstable. I fear she would anger your enemies and alienate your supporters. Better to leave the Khatun’s headdress empty than to let Oghul Ghaimish wear it.”

Güyük stroked his chin. “Then I’ll take another wife to be Khatun.”

I feigned nonchalance. “My son Möngke would be delighted at the idea of a union between our two branches of the family.”

Güyük practically salivated at the idea, whether gaining power over my
dead husband’s lands or marrying a fresh young girl. Or both. Of course, no one in my family would let him come within a day’s ride of any of my granddaughters. However, I needed to assure Güyük of our family’s loyalty, at least for now.

“Your proposition may prove favorable,” Güyük said, flicking his wrist to indicate my audience was at an end. “I shall guarantee you safe passage across the steppes and you may depart with my permission to broach the subject with your eldest son. Of course, you’ll speak to Batu first.”

“All you ask shall be done,” I promised, taking the oblong copper medallion he proffered. The slanting script down its center read,
By the order of the Eternal Blue Sky, Güyük, the Khan of Khans, decrees that all Mongols shall submit to the bearer of this medallion.

If only things were that easy. I tucked the medallion into my sleeve, made my obeisance, and backed out of the Great Khan’s presence for what I hoped was the last time.

I hoped never to see Güyük again. At least not alive.

I was eager to be gone from Karakorum, to return home and surround myself with my music, my prayers to the god of the cross, and my sons. My plan to topple Güyük must succeed, lest I find myself dragged back here to repeat Fatima’s fate.

On my way from the Golden Ordu, I passed the open door to Oghul Ghaimish’s tent. Güyük’s wife wore jewel-studded hairpins shinier than a fly’s body and her white silks from the
khurlatai
, but the underarms were stained from many days’ use, and around her neck she wore a tangled necklace of yellow horse vertebrae.

“Sorkhokhtani,” she said, offering me a gap-toothed smile and pulling me into her
ger
. The stench of stale urine and the pile of bowls with fluffs of gray mold growing out of clumps of curdled milk almost made me void my stomach again. Yet among the filth was also beauty: a porcelain lion figurine glazed in a pale blue that matched the sky and a polished copper mirror inscribed with two antlered stags standing under the sun. “I didn’t realize you’d returned to Karakorum.”

“Briefly,” I said, trying not to breathe. I recalled the rape of the Oirat girls, that Ogodei had plucked Oghul Ghaimish from their number and
ordered his son to marry her. For a moment, my heart surged with pity for this broken woman, but her next words robbed me of my breath.

“You missed Fatima’s execution.” Oghul Ghaimish pouted, rubbing her forefinger over the bones in her necklace. She hissed in pain when one sharp edge sliced open her finger, and she sucked away the blood before pushing her matted hair behind her shoulder. A fresh set of golden stitches ran along the ruined seam of the garment’s neckline, the crisscross pattern an exact match of the jagged stitches on Fatima’s face.

I swayed on my feet at the remembrance of Fatima’s tortured body, her lips and eyes . . .

“The Rose of Nishapur deserved to die.” Oghul Ghaimish grinned, her teeth streaked with blood. “I helped lure Toregene away from her and watched her breathe her last.”

I’d thought Güyük had acted alone, but Oghul Ghaimish had helped torture Fatima. She continued to grin, a child proud of her accomplishments.

“Güyük was pleased with my role during the interrogation,” Oghul Ghaimish said, her fingers—the same delicate fingers that had sewn golden thread through human skin—fluttering at her neck. “I wish she could have died a thousand deaths.”

“You are indeed a dedicated wife.” I blew a puff of air between my lips, my next words weaving a snare I knew Oghul Ghaimish couldn’t help but stumble into. “I’d hoped to offer my congratulations upon your ascension to Great Khatun, but it’s unfortunate that Güyük doesn’t wish for you to wear the
boqta
.”

My words had the desired effect.

“But I’ve earned the green headdress!” She stomped her foot and began to pace, then whirled upon me, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Is that why you’re here?” She picked at the skin of her throat above the mended collar. “Has he offered to take you as his wife again?”

I shook my head ruefully, my mind racing. “I’m an old woman now. My only worth is my grown sons and their many children.” I offered a reassuring smile, although my heart felt as cold as fresh snow. “I return to them now, and leave you to your husband.”

She gave a wet sniff and her eyes shone bright, tears threatening to overflow.

I turned to go, then snapped my fingers. “I almost forgot,” I said, pressing Fatima’s gift into her hand while keeping some back for myself. “I wished to leave these with you.”

She opened her palm, her breath heavy and foul. “What are they?”

“The bulbs of a rare flower,” I said. “The poet’s narcissus.”

“I care little for flowers,” she said, turning away.

I kept my voice light. “Plant them if you wish,” I said. “The blossoms are exquisite although the bulbs are sometimes mistaken for garlic. Fatima once told me they can kill a grown man if eaten.” I gave a girlish giggle. “I certainly wouldn’t want to be responsible for anyone’s accidental poisoning.”

I strode from her tent then, not daring to look back. It was only after the door closed that I heard the lilt of a woman’s smothered laughter.

The sweet sound of victory.

*   *   *

I hitched the black camels to a cart and directed Shigi’s silent slaves as they finished loading it with the felts and poles from Toregene’s
ger
. Even the animals seemed eager to leave, braying and pulling on their harnesses. I would ride straight for Batu and then my sons, following the path of the arrow messengers and pausing along the way to let the camels graze. There was only one stop I would make, a debt to be paid.

Flicking the reins to urge the camels on, I cursed myself at least a hundred times each day as the cart crawled toward my nephew’s lands. I’d have preferred to ride by horseback, but that was impossible with the felts and disassembled poles of the two
gers
I pulled behind me. I was on the road for only two days when I noticed a disturbance on the horizon behind me, in the direction of Karakorum, and instinctively touched the medallion hidden in my sleeve.

My thoughts flew to Güyük, that perhaps he’d changed his mind and decided to have me arrested. I traced the bulges in my pocket, a gift from a brave woman. I would carry the narcissus bulbs with me until Möngke’s rule was assured. I’d sooner die than fall into Güyük’s clutches.

I spurred the camels on, but the cart and its precious cargo weighted us down like a boulder. The disturbance on the horizon grew nearer until I could discern two mounted riders when I glanced over my shoulder. I almost cried out in relief when I recognized them.

Shigi and Alaqai reined in their horses on their approach, both animals beginning to lather and their riders wearing thick coats of dust along with the swords strapped to their waists. I stepped down from the cart on unsteady legs as Alaqai dismounted. She pulled me into a tight embrace, and I breathed deeply of the familiar scents of horse and leather. “Shigi told me about Toregene and Fatima,” she murmured. “I wish I’d known—I’d have ridden a hundred horses into the earth to get there in time.”

“They’re finally at peace,” I said. “That’s all that matters now.”

“We’re in this together, Sorkhokhtani,” she said, releasing me with a fearsome grin that might have been stolen from her father. “Come what may.”

Tears stung my eyes, but I tilted my chin. “I would be honored if you would help me raise their
ordus
.”

She stood back, blinked several times, and drew a ragged breath. “Of course. Then together we shall travel to Batu’s lands and gather your sons. It shall fall to Möngke and his brothers to unite this empire once again.”

“So it will,” I said. “And so they shall.”

I turned to Shigi. “You’ve done well, Shigi. Thank you.”

He bowed, his face grizzled from time and grief but still regal. Shigi had served Genghis Khan and Borte, then Alaqai, Toregene, and Fatima, and now me. He was a greater treasure to our family than Karakorum’s Silver Tree with its fountains of wine and
airag
, a man whose name should be venerated around hearth fires for generations.

He felt in his saddlebags and withdrew a heavy book bound by a blue leather cover, the Eternal Blue Sky and its clouds brought to earth. I recognized it as one Fatima had carried with her almost everywhere, her pen scratching over the pages during Ogodei’s
khurlatai
and Toregene’s assumption of the throne.

“Fatima’s history of the Golden Family,” I murmured, and Shigi nodded.

“I saved it from her chambers before I left Karakorum,” he said. “Her
final entry was a description of Güyük’s
khurlatai
.
I give it to you now, that it may always be safe.”

I flashed a wry smile. “Keep it for a while longer, my friend. Our story is not yet done, and I would have you write its ending.”

He hesitated, then bowed again. “As you wish, Sorkhokhtani Beki.”

Beki.
Unlike Borte and Toregene, I, like Alaqai, would never be Khatun. Instead, my sons would mend this empire and ensure our family’s rule for generations to come. That would be my legacy.

It took many more days for us to close the distance to Borte’s lonely
ordu
. Once there, we spent the afternoon with only the howling wind for company, raising Toregene’s Great White Tent to the east, and next to it, a more diminutive tent for Fatima. I wondered what the proud Persian would think to know that her final monument in this life was a plain Mongol
ger
on the outside, the inside bedecked with sumptuous silk carpets and wall hangings from her homeland.

I stood alone inside Toregene’s tent after I had finished securing the felts with river rocks around the base. The rope that controlled the smoke hole dangled listlessly and the hearth lay dark and empty. The cold breath of air that made me shiver might have been Toregene’s spirit, the shadow cast in the corner her shade.

I breathed deeply, imagining the scent of the herbs that always clung to Toregene’s felts and wishing I had a fragment of her soul to carry with me. Instead, I had only memories.

I shut Toregene’s tiger door quietly behind me, pausing for a moment to trace the snarling wooden face. Angry gray clouds had followed us from Karakorum, but now the dappled sun shone down upon the three
gers
and illuminated the door’s vivid greens and reds, bringing the tiger to life.

Alaqai straightened in front of Fatima’s
ordu
and brushed the dirt from her hands. I’d given her two of the remaining narcissus bulbs, knowing that Fatima would have appreciated seeing a piece of Nishapur blooming outside her tent each spring. Shigi sat in the grass near the camel-cart, writing in the blue-and-white history book. From the way he paused now and again to wipe his eyes, I guessed he was recounting the recent tragedies since Güyük’s
khurlatai
.

Alaqai fell into step beside me and we entered Borte’s tent together, the ancient felts still stained with the black smoke of her hearth fires. I wondered what message the divining bones would hold if she could scry for us now, if she would see our victory or our ruin.

“Give us your strength,” I whispered to the spirits of the three
ordus
as Alaqai clasped my hand.

“They’ll watch over us,” she whispered. “As they always did in life.”

I prayed she was right.

*   *   *

The night sky was black when I made out the fires of Batu’s new capital of Sarai on the horizon, like the dull embers of charcoal. We had traded the camel cart for fresh horses at one of the
ortoo
messenger posts, and now I urged more speed from my stallion, flanked by Alaqai and Shigi. Together, we drove to the outskirts of the Golden Horde’s capital, following the ruts of wagons come before us and passing between larch trees and two colossal tablets bearing the laws of Genghis Khan. Batu had once murdered a Rus prince who had refused to do obeisance to the tablets and a statue of Genghis, thus earning my nephew the further respect of every Mongol from Persia to Goryeo. I bowed my head to Genghis’ scowling statue and continued down the newly laid streets, halting outside the largest tent as scouts recognized us and ran to alert their khan. I hesitated before dismounting, muttering curses against my stiff joints and sore bones.