The Tiger Queens Read online

  Temujin turned to me, his eyes warm. “Teb Tengeri traced the sweep of stars on the last new moon and read the blood of a newly slaughtered goat to determine that now was the best time to fulfill my promise to you. I wasn’t taking any chances.”

  The fury at his presumption screamed through my veins, but I turned to stroke the nose of my father’s mare, letting the gentle nuzzle of her lips soothe me. “I still carry the curse I once warned you of,” I finally said. “Would you bring a storm of death onto the steppes?”

  Temujin shrugged. “My strength in battle has already been tested. With you as my wife I will become a great and powerful khan, and our children will multiply and rule from the Great Lake to the Great Dry Sea.”

  I snorted. “Did your shaman tell you that?”

  “He may have.”

  I knew not whether his seer was a fraud, only that my curse still clung to me like a branch of thorns. Temujin moved closer, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin on the inside of my wrist. “I want you by my side, Borte Ujin. I had hoped you might still want me, too.”

  “I don’t want anyone,” I snapped. “Least of all a man who slanders my name from mountains away.”

  “What?” Temujin drew away, his eyes narrowing. “That’s a heavy charge to lay at my feet.”

  “Heavy, but just,” I countered. “My mother and I were the only ones who knew of my curse until I spoke of it to you. Now it’s common knowledge from Lake Balkash to Mount Burkhan Khaldun.” I hoped that I’d been mistaken, but my heart fell as the color drained from his face.

  “I did speak of your prophecy,” he admitted slowly. “But not in the way you think.” I gave him the insult of my back, but he caught my hand and moved so I had no choice but to face him. “Please,” he said. “Listen before you condemn me as the worst sort of villain.”

  I gritted my teeth and yanked my arm away, but I didn’t leave.

  He sighed. “I told my clan your secret after my father’s bones had been returned to the earth. I thought little of the prophecy, but the elders believed differently. They argued that I must renounce the bond with you and your people, but I refused. The next morning they broke camp and left us on the riverbank, unwilling to sully themselves with a future war.”

  My hands trembled so much that I had to clasp them around my elbows. “That’s why you were abandoned?”

  Temujin closed his eyes, as if to shut out a painful memory. “My mother chased them with my father’s Spirit Banner, yelling at them to honor their promise to provide for my father’s widow. A few hesitated, but the elders urged them on. We were left desolate, with only our shadows to stand at our sides.”

  “Your family almost starved that winter,” I said, recalling the travelers’ stories. Numbness spread up my body, the acrid taste of guilt filling my mouth as I touched the wolf-tooth necklace I still wore at my neck. “Because of me.”

  Temujin’s eyes lit when he saw the necklace, and he touched it, brushing the hollow at my throat. “We became experts at catching fish and digging wild onions.” His hand covered mine, square and rough like the rest of him. “But I always hoped it wasn’t all in vain.”

  I struggled then. I’d spent the last seven years watching everyone around me live their lives while my days trickled away like drops of water off melting river ice. I wanted to live, to plunge into the vibrant, ever-changing world I’d always held at bay, but there was still the prophecy, a dark shadow I could never escape.

  Temujin seemed to read my thoughts. “Jamuka has pledged that his clan will support me, and our marriage will enable me to seek an alliance with Ong Khan.” This was no small thing, for among the chiefs of the scattered steppe tribes, Ong Khan was viewed as the strongest leader. “Not long from now,” Temujin continued, “your gift of sight and your father’s herds will be prizes many men will seek to steal. Marrying me will not start the war you fear. In fact, it may avert it.”

  He thought to persuade me, but instead his reminder of my parents made my soul heavy. It was my responsibility to care for my father and mother until they drew their last breaths. But then I recalled my mother’s words as I had tucked a blanket around her bone-thin legs only a few days ago.

  “You worry about us overmuch,” she had said, her voice uncharacteristically soft as she patted my arm. I’d never forget her hands, the wisdom in the brown stains of age and bulging veins gained by years of hard work and sacrifice. “Too much, I think.”

  “I worry because I love you,” I had said, unfastening her braid so I could brush her hair.

  She gave an exasperated sigh and pushed away the bone comb, the wattle under her chin swaying. “Your father and I managed to care for ourselves before I carried you in my womb. I can guarantee that we’ll continue to do so even after you’re gone.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Mother. You know that.”

  She tipped my chin to look at her, her blank eyes still managing to penetrate into my soul. “Your father and I will die warm in our beds, Borte Ujin. You needn’t worry about us.”

  I’d cleared my throat then and blinked to ease the stinging in my eyes. Only now did I realize she’d seen this day and had known the choice I would face. I suddenly yearned to travel to the distant Onan River, to become Temujin’s senior wife and rule over his clan, yet to even wish for such a thing felt like a betrayal of everything I knew.

  “You already have a seer,” I said to Temujin, clinging to my last excuse. “I won’t give up my sight.”

  “Of course you won’t,” Temujin said. “I have great plans, Borte, large enough for at least two seers.”

  I had no more arguments left beneath me, as if I’d been standing on lake ice that had melted out from under my feet. Still, I would not answer him now.

  “Your plans will have to wait,” I said, “until I make my decision.”

  “I’ll wait, then,” Temujin said, his voice so full of happiness that I almost smiled. “As long as it takes.”

  I was tempted to tell him he’d wait seven years as I’d done, but I bit my tongue. I knew not what my answer would be, but he’d have it before the next full moon. Anything longer than that would be a cruelty to both of us.

  * * *

  I spent the next days with my eyes closed, listening for guidance from the spirits in the winds and in the beating of my own heart, but my ears were so full of the chatter and whispers of my clan that I had to put distance between myself and the stifling circle of gers, where Temujin’s hearty laugh rang out too often for my liking. I left then to sleep under the stars and read the omens of the Eternal Blue Sky, taking with me only an old horse blanket and a felt satchel of dried horsemeat and a waterskin my mother packed for me.

  I camped on the banks of a river swollen with spring meltwater, relishing the peace and tranquility of the rushing waters and the occasional jump of a silver trout. One night it rained, soaking through my blanket so I smelled of wet sheep the next morning, shivering and alone.

  And I knew then that I didn’t wish to face an eternity of lonely days.

  I didn’t love Temujin, but he intrigued me, and my anger at him had faded since I’d realized the accident of his betrayal of me. He and I had both suffered while we were apart; perhaps together we might be stronger than we were on our own.

  And so I packed the remnants of my mother’s food in the faded blanket and hiked all morning back to camp. Along the way was a deep lake, one still covered with a thick sheet of ice that wouldn’t break until the hillsides were carpeted with fresh green. Two figures glided along the ice’s dull surface, and I squinted, recognizing Temujin’s solid form and then Jamuka’s tall silhouette. They moved over the ice with polished bones strapped to the bottoms of their boots, a common winter pastime for children. The sight of two grown men skating together brought an unbidden smile to my face. A peal of Temujin’s laughter rang out, and for a moment I imagined them as boys shortly af
ter Temujin’s father died, sensed a bond that went deeper than their taking each other’s blood into their mouths during their anda ceremony. I pulled my hat tighter over my ears and hurried on my way, not wishing to be seen.

  I stopped by my mother’s ger first, where she proceeded to fill my ears with arguments against my decision. My father was easier to persuade, for Temujin had wordlessly taken my place caring for our herds during my absence. My cheeks flushed at that, for I’d given little thought to who would assist my father while I was at the river. Finally, I retraced my steps and went in search of Temujin. I found him seated by the lake, whittling what appeared to be a fishing pole from a bare birch branch.

  “There are no fish this time of year,” I said, scowling first at him and then at the ice.

  Temujin’s hand jerked at my voice, and he almost dropped the pole. “You’ve returned, Borte Ujin.”

  “I have,” I said, sitting down next to him and stretching my legs before me. The bone skates he’d worn earlier lay discarded by his feet, but there was no sign of Jamuka.

  “I hate fish,” I said, casting a glance at his pole.

  He smiled. “I’d never eaten them until after my father died. They’re not so bad, especially cooked with a little sheep fat.”

  I cringed then, for I’d forgotten that Temujin and his family had barely survived that first winter after Yesugei’s death. Without fish from the creeks and roots dug from the riverbeds, Temujin would be only a pile of bones and dust now.

  The question was plain on his face, but I refused to answer it. Instead, I closed my eyes, feeling the caress of the breeze and hearing the cry of a hawk far off. I opened my eyes to the softness of Temujin’s expression, reminding me of the young boy I’d once made a promise to under the stars, and I drew a deep breath, knowing that this decision could only be my own. “I’ve decided to keep my promise,” I said.

  Temujin’s eyes sparked, sudden flecks of silver in the gray. “Does that mean you’ll become my wife?”

  He didn’t need my consent, only my father’s, but perhaps Temujin was more considerate than I gave him credit for. I could only nod my answer—the words were too heavy to speak again—but Temujin gave a sudden whoop of joy and lifted me to my feet, spinning us around until I was laughing with him.

  He kissed me then, a kiss full of impatience for life. My body responded against my will, and I recalled the power this man had possessed even as a child, the ability to draw people to him. I wondered for a moment if perhaps he had managed to cast that net over me, but the heady pleasure at being wanted eclipsed my worry.

  Then Temujin broke the kiss and looked at me with a new emotion in his eyes. It took me a moment to recognize the desire there, laid bare for all to see. “Jamuka was right when he said I’d be lucky to win you a second time,” he murmured.

  I stiffened at the mention of Jamuka, but Temujin didn’t notice.

  “I am indeed blessed by the Eternal Blue Sky and the Golden Light of the Sun,” he said, cupping my face as if I was something precious. “Today I gain not only a wise and beautiful wife, but also an alliance with the greatest khan on the steppes.”

  Temujin stood to gain all. And yet I wondered if perhaps there was much we might still lose.

  * * *

  We lingered only until the new moon, an auspicious occasion for new beginnings, but scarcely enough time to prepare for the new life that awaited me. Although the ground under our feet changed as we migrated with the seasons, my mother’s ger was the only home I’d ever known. Now I was to leave it behind, a thought that made my hands tremble and forced the air from my lungs.

  My mother would travel with us, but my father was too ill to manage the entire journey. He would turn back at the river border of our spring camp, returning to our empty ger and the colts Temujin had offered as my bride-price. I breathed deeply of the woodsmoke of my father’s soul, memorizing each wrinkle of his face and the flecks of copper in his eyes.

  “Bayartai, Borte Ujin,” my father said.

  Good-bye.

  Those words were uttered only when someone was dying or leaving on a journey from which they would never return. We both knew this was the last time we would be together until we greeted each other on the crest of the sacred mountains. Suddenly it was difficult to swallow.

  “You have made me proud every day since you fell from your mother’s womb,” he continued, pressing his wrinkled forehead to mine. “You’ll make me prouder still in the days to come.”

  He released me then, inclining his head to the man standing a respectful distance behind me. “Take care of her,” he said to Temujin, offering him a single feathered arrow, carved by his own hands and symbolic of the fact that Temujin would be head of my family now.

  “I will.” Temujin clasped the quarrel to his heart and held out his hand for me. I lingered for a moment, longing for nothing more than to remain in the protective circle of my father’s arms.

  But we all must face our futures. I squeezed my father’s hand one final time and turned to the man who would become my husband, lifting my eyes to the east and the new life that awaited me.

  Chapter 5

  W e traveled with Temujin and his men for many days, my mother and I falling exhausted into our bedrolls each night and rising with the sun every morning. This was a stark land, where winter ice still covered the Sengur River, the forests were mere clumps of trees, and the grasses became more sparse the closer we traveled to Temujin’s homeland. We arrived to find the gers of his clan nestled at the base of the Burgi cliff, close enough to the river to draw water but far enough away to avoid any unseasonable ice floes that might be pushed overland as the river broke apart. I counted only ten people in all as we dismounted our horses, including his mother, Hoelun, and his father’s faded second wife, Sochigel, whose only remaining beauty was the exquisite moccasins beaded by her own hands. I would soon discover that Sochigel had fallen silent when her eldest son died, refusing to speak now that the light had gone out of her life.

  Hoelun enjoyed a happy reunion with my mother, then circled me and smacked her lips, revealing several missing teeth.

  “A plain face, but with fire in her eyes,” she said, echoing the words of her husband from long ago.

  That wasn’t the first time I wished the spirits had gifted me with eyes like mud.

  A hunchbacked crone shuffled to my side, bringing a whiff of stale urine that made me cringe. A childless widow since her only son was killed in a raid, Mother Khogaghchin had been alone on the steppes when Hoelun found her and took her into her own tent. The old woman wore a leather girdle to keep from wetting herself, having long ago lost the power to control her waters. Her grin revealed gums as pink as a newborn’s and a whiff of the foulest breath I’d ever smelled. “She has good hips, too,” she said. “We’ll get plenty of foals from this one.”

  “My daughter is more valuable than a broodmare.” My mother’s tone was biting as she first felt and then cut the ropes of the pack her horse had carried all this way. Temujin’s clan gave a collective gasp as she shook out a stunning black sable coat, a fur more valuable than a herd of the fastest horses. She held it up to the Eternal Blue Sky and then held it out in Temujin’s direction. “Dei the Wise and his wife, Chotan, wish to offer this sacred gift to the husband of our daughter, Borte Ujin.”

  Temujin stared at her for a moment and reached out to touch the fur, its black hairs quivering in the breeze. He shook his head. “This is too rich a prize, even for such a woman as Borte Ujin,” he said. “I cannot accept such a gift from those who have already given so much.”

  My mother pressed the fur closer. “You must take it, to give to Ong Khan.”

  Temujin lifted his gaze to mine. This was no gift, then, but the price of peace. Ong Khan would never refuse such a gift and would pledge to protect Temujin and his clan, come what may. This exquisite gift might be enough to keep my prophecy
at bay.

  “Chotan is right,” Jamuka said. “It is a fitting gift, and one that will bring you renown and a glorious alliance with the khan.”

  Still Temujin hesitated, but Teb Tengeri finally dismounted his silver-white horse and hobbled over, inspecting the fur while leaning heavily on his cane. “This gift shall indeed bring you good fortune,” he said.

  I scowled at the crippled shaman. Teb Tengeri had separated himself from us during the journey, riding alone and sharing Jamuka’s fire at night. Only now, surrounded by the familiar curve of the river and the stark outline of the mountains he knew so well, did the holy man with the withered leg feel safe enough to assert himself. It was then that I knew Teb Tengeri for the coward he was and first recognized the hunger for power in his soul.

  I recognized it because now that I’d seen the camp I would rule one day, I felt its foreign teeth gnawing at my heart as well.

  I shifted, blocking Temujin’s view of his shaman, and said, “Good fortune matters naught. This is a fitting gift for the man who has pledged to protect me, despite what storms may wait on the horizon.”

  Temujin took my meaning and finally accepted the fur. “I am humbled,” he said to my mother. “I swear to you that I shall shelter Borte Ujin from any storm, and the steppes shall bask in the warmth of her smiles.”

  My mother narrowed her eyes at him in such a way that my skin prickled with dread, for despite her blindness, it was as if she was seeing him for the first time. “You shall fail her, Temujin of the Borijin,” she said, her voice coming from far away. “Yet without you, she cannot become the woman she was meant to be.”

  There was a stunned breath of silence before my mother heaved a great sigh, listing dangerously. I caught her arm, frightened by the way she leaned on me. “My mother is weary from the long journey,” I said. “Is there somewhere she can rest?”

  Temujin nodded, although he didn’t meet my eyes. “She can remain in my mother’s ger until I’ve built her tent.”