Read Online Bones of the Hills by Conn Iggulden - Free Book Online Page B

camp, my lord khan,” Jelme said formally. As he caught the riotous mood of the men who had ridden in, he began to grin. Even his father was chuckling in disbelief as he pulled himself upright and leaned on a stoic young warrior for support.
    “You didn’t stop, then?” Jelme murmured wryly to his father. Arslan shrugged and shook his head, his eyes shining at the memory. “Who could stop? He pulls us all in.”
    Jelme’s ten thousand continued the feast in the wilderness. Even the youngest children were woken and brought to see the Great Khan as he strode through the camp. Genghis made a point of laying his hand on the heads of young ones, but he was distracted and impatient. He had heard horns sound the recall to the flanking riders and knew Chagatai was coming in. He could not fault Jelme for his preparations, but he wanted to see his son.
    Jelme’s servants brought wine and cold food to the newcomers as huge fires of fine Koryon lumber were built and lit, casting pools of gold and darkness. The damp grass was covered in heavy sheets of felt and linen. When he took his place of honor, Genghis sat cross-legged with Arslan on his right hand. Kachiun, Khasar, and Tsubodai joined him in front of the roaring flames, passing a skin of rice wine from one to the other. As the places in the circle filled, Jochi secured a place on Khasar’s right, so that Ogedai was further down the line. The senior men did not seem to notice the way the circle filled, though Jochi thought Kachiun saw everything. The shaman Kokchu gave thanks to the sky father for the conquests Jelme had made and the riches he had brought back. Jochi watched the shaman spin and shriek, throwing drops of airag to the winds and spirits. Jochi felt one droplet touch his face and trickle down his chin.
    As Kokchu sank back to his place, musicians cracked out rhythms across the camp, as if released. The thump of sticks blurred and wailing notes mingled and turned around each other, calling back and forth across the flames. Men and women pounded out songs and poems in the firelight, dancing until sweat spattered off them. Those who had come in with Jelme were pleased to honor the Great Khan.
    The fire’s heat was strong on Jochi’s face, licking out from a heart of orange embers and strange paths to the core. As he sat, Jochi stared at his father’s generals and met Kachiun’s eyes for an instant before sliding away. Even in that brief contact, there had been some communication. Jochi did not look back, knowing that Kachiun would be watching him with sharp interest. The eyes showed the soul and they were always hardest to mask.
    When Chagatai rode in, it was to the yelling accompaniment of hisjagun of warriors. Jelme was pleased to see the waxy look to Chagatai’s skin had vanished with a bit of fast riding. Genghis’s second son looked vital and strong as he jumped down over the horse’s shoulder.
    Genghis rose to greet him and the warriors shouted in appreciation as the father took his son’s arm and pounded him on the back.
    “You have grown tall, boy,” Genghis said. His eyes were glassy from drink and his face was mottled and puffy. Chagatai bowed deeply to his father, the model of a perfect son.
    Chagatai maintained a cool manner as he gripped hands and clapped shoulders with his father’s men. To Jochi’s slow-burning irritation, his brother walked well, his back straight and white teeth flashing as he laughed and smiled. At fifteen, his skin was barely scarred beyond the wrists and forearms and unmarked by disease. Genghis looked upon him with visible pride. When Jochi saw Chagatai welcomed to a seat close to Genghis, he was glad that the great fire hid his flush of anger. Chagatai had glanced at Jochi for an instant of cold recognition. He had not bothered to find words for his older brother, even after three years. Jochi’s face remained calm, but it was astonishing how anger sprang in him from just that glance. For a few heartbeats, he