The Four Khans Return to the Telparthin at Kharakhorin

  After a grueling week of prayer and fasting, the four Khans descended from the mountains. Kaedo welcomed them home. The Telparthin erupted in a lavish feast and wild, raucous dancing. For the extremely urbanized vassals, accustomed to the polite, silk-edged manners and finery of Xanadu, this display was a raw, primal spectacle. The entire ancestral court now prepared for the hunt, the air sharp with anticipation. The following morning, the hunt began.

  During the hunt, Khatun Ulaan rode close to Urduja, paying her special attention. As they rode together through the vast, cold steppes, Ulaan expressed deep interest in Urduja's home, particularly as it is ruled by a woman. She also pressed Urduja about the local wind and wave technology, confessing that should Urduja ever be Queen, Ulaan would like to visit the island chain of the Tawalesi herself.

  "If I am appointed Queen," Urduja replied, a slight smile touching her lips. "All the Bathálikha will turn out to welcome you. I will throw a grand feast!"

  "If?" Ulaan's voice held a sharp edge of disbelief. "Don't you wish to be Queen?" She clearly desired to call the shots.

  "It is a heavy responsibility, Lady Khan," Urduja sighed.

  "But it is glorious! And as Queen, you could bring peace and prosperity to the land."

  "We don't have land, My Khatun. Well, one little beautiful island and a whole lot of rocks. Our Palutangs can latch together and anchor themselves on a rock. But we don't have land large enough for herding. Perhaps for those who are land-based, glory is desired. But the Queen of Tawalesi has neither land nor armies. We have no enemies. For me, my only wish is to catch the Along Malaki, the Big One—to travel on the wind," replied Urduja passionately. "To circumnavigate the world!"

  "Is it fast?" asked Khatun Ulaan, intrigued.

  "Faster than any horse, Lady Khan," Urduja answered with a confident grin.

  Ulaan smiled, an honest, fierce expression. "You have a fine steed. Did you train it yourself?"

  "Yes, Khagan. It took many months."

  "I believe it. The Kharak steppe horse yields only to those who are stubborn enough to wait. You have spirit, little one. Unlike the soft princes of Xanadu," Ulaan said, glancing at Huaizong and Rajiv. "You will need it where you are going. Take this." Ulaan unclasped a small, ornate dagger (khutge) from her belt, the blade etched with Kharakhorin symbols. "A proper weapon. For a true warrior."

  "Thank you, Khatun. This gift I will treasure always."

  Ulaan smiled. "The Malaking Alon goes around the world?"

  "Yes, Khatun. It happens once in a lifetime."

  "Urduja, you must take me there! I have never seen the sea. And you must teach me to ride the waves."

  "It would be my pleasure, My Khatun."

  Also at the Hunt

  Zhenjin found his Uncle M?ngke to discuss plans to ride to Kharkhassus with the vassal heirs.

  "Uncle, I would like to come with you to Kharkhassus and take the vassal heirs along," Zhenjin told his uncle M?ngke.

  "Oh, that's a nice princely thing to do. Conscientious, aren't we?" M?ngke teased.

  "Thank you, Uncle," said Zhenjin, suppressing a laugh.

  "Did you know Hulagu almost threw his three wives in the river? His new mistress is young and beautiful," M?ngke informed him drily.

  "He threw them in the river? Why?" Zhenjin asked, openly upset.

  "Purportedly to marry D?qüz, who is a Messiahnist. They can only have one wife, and a woman is allowed only one husband."

  "But he is Khan. He always has a choice," Zhenjin reasoned.

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  "I think the war is taking too much out of him," M?ngke said.

  "D?qüz? She seems alright," Zhenjin said.

  "Yeah, she'd rather marry a man with multiple wives than marry a murderer,”

  “so it was Hulagu who drowned his wives.”

  Claims he did it for her. And he threw all their manuscripts in the river. Then he threw his wives. Except Doquz who is part of his Kheshig. She is now Queen of Mesopotamia.

  "There are all these new cults. There's Sol the Sun God who died so they will all live again. And there are the Desert People of the Prophet, the Fire God Ahura Mazda... But the Austronesians have Zanahari. Who is more like a banker. He lends you life. Hiram na Buhay. It is not a gift. You don't own life. You may borrow life again," Zhenjin related.

  "And the Buddhists return to nothing," M?ngke said.

  "But in nothing we are reconciled to our primal state. The compartmentalizing ends. All conflicts are resolved. There is no mind. Life is a form of banishment from the ideal state of total peace beyond time, space, and the self. Are you telling me not to proceed to Iran?" Zhenjin was baffled.

  "I am telling you war takes a toll on us all.", concludes M?ngke

  "I want to do right by the vassal heirs. Prince Huaizong, Mahintha, and Master Po are part of my Kheshig now."

  "That's nice. I would do like you if I were crown prince of Xina. Truth be told, I would appreciate the company." M?ngke nodded. "You don't want to be Emperor?"

  "I think Huaizong should be emperor," said Zhenjin.

  "And he doesn't want the Dragon Throne either?" M?ngke asked, surprised.

  "He says that had the universe so desired it, he'd be Emperor already. He claims it's my destiny," Zhenjin sighed. "He claims that Khublai avenged his father and saved his life, respected his grandmother, and buried her as a Yuan. That this is the very definition of gratitude and honor..."

  "I'm glad he feels that way. He'd make a bad emperor. Too much into ladies and too much into theatre and music," opined M?ngke.

  "That sounds like my father," said Zhenjin wryly.

  "It does, doesn't it?" M?ngke observed.

  "Except that Huaizong is a truly talented lyricist and musician," replied Zhenjin.

  "Khan is not," observed M?ngke.

  "He tries."

  M?ngke chuckled. "How are Rajiv's uncles?"

  "Completely miserable, but I'm dragging them along because they wanted to come. I am hoping they learn their lesson to just stay at Xanadu," Zhenjin said, but not too hopefully.

  Still on the Khuriltai Hunt

  At the traditional hunt of the Khuriltai, the four Khans and their Kheshigs were riding together. Some of the bigger herders came to join the four Great Khans. This was a traditional hunt—no trumpets, banners, or courtiers to applaud every move. This was a real hunt. A Kharak hunt, not an orchestrated Xinese hunt.

  "I have something to tell you, Father," Zhenjin began.

  "I have something to ask you first," Khublai interrupted. "On the way here, I received news from a rider that Lady Huyen Tran is to be married to the Cham Agatub. Is that true? We need the Cham Peninsula. If that Cham marries Lady Huyen, we lose our one ally on the sea."

  "Father, the Chams are Vedics. They'll submit Lady Tran to the Suttee," Zhenjin argued. "You must object to the marriage, Father. She is from a royal house."

  Khublai smiled, his gaze sharp. "My son, you are in love! You are finally a man! But I forbid you to marry her. She is old and can give you no heirs."

  "Father, please, she is from a royal house. Like the one you are trying to establish for yourself. She is Buddhist, like you. Object to this marriage, Father."

  "Oh, you want her, do you? Look, son, she is at least thirty years older than the Cham Agatub. She'll die before he does. She won't face the Suttee. You no worry."

  Zhenjin pushed past his father's taunt. "Father, she marries to acquire fighting men because you intend to attack them. If you will not object to this marriage, you can at least forget your plans to invade Annam."

  "No, son, I merely wish to consolidate them with the rest of Xina. They are truly part of the Middle Kingdom. They have the same math and the same writing."

  "Father, it is impossible to take Annam."

  After a prolonged silence, Zhenjin tried a different approach.

  "Father, may I have your permission to send Tan Po to our Embassy at Thanglong?"

  "You can send whomever you like," Khublai scoffed. "Send that half-breed Annamese spy, Tan Po."

  "Master Po is not an Annamese spy. His mother was a Tang Princess. He should have been a vassal heir had he not submitted himself to the temple."

  "His father was Annamese," insisted Khublai.

  "The Tang, the Han, the Sui, the Song, the Laotians, the Goryeons, and the Annamese—they are all cousins, Father. Their math, their writing is so alike. All of them consider themselves Middle Kingdom Xinese. We have an embassy in Annam. Father, you need not invade Annam."

  Khublai's tone darkened. "You keep your nose out of my business. What are you, a monk? Or a Khan? Were you born to serve the temple? Or to rule and conquer? They must pay tribute. They insulted my father. Find your own war."

  "Father, I need to bring your attention to problems closer to home," Zhenjin pressed. "Ariq now calls himself Emperor. Or at least that is what Uncle Kaedo calls him. They are preparing for war."

  "That stupid brother of mine can call himself whatever he likes. Ariq is not your problem."

  Khublai's attention suddenly snapped away. "Oh look! The wild boar has escaped the trap! Ariq needs to be flanked! To the left! The left, you stupid fools!" Khublai roared.

  The hunt consumed their attention. Zhenjin spurred his horse to protect Ariq, whose mount had been badly gored by the giant boar. The beast nearly killed several men and unhorsed Prince Zhenjin. As the boar charged, Zhenjin grabbed a discarded bow and arrow from a wounded rider. Seconds flashed by. Zhenjin hastily strung an arrow and shot the charging boar dead center in the beast's forehead. The beast fell at his feet with a thud.

  There was a split second of silence. Zhenjin took a sigh of relief. Then the Kharaks whooped and cheered, surrounding Zhenjin to congratulate him. Khublai looked on, very proud. His son had proven he had nerves of steel. A true sign of his virility.