Free Lords of the Bow by Conn Iggulden Page B

interior.
    Genghis was ready for them, his young messenger still panting at his side.
    “Where are the scouts?” he demanded, taking in their serious expressions.
    “Dead, brother. And the pass is guarded by a wall of black stone as high as a hundred gers, maybe more.”
    “We saw perhaps fifty archers drawn out,” Kachiun added. “They were not skilled, as we know it, but they could hardly miss. The wall lies at the end of a narrow pass, a gorge between steep sides of rock. I could not see a way to flank them.”
    Genghis frowned, rising from his seat. He made a clicking sound in his throat as he stepped across the ger and passed out into the bright sun. Khasar and Kachiun followed him out, hardly noticing the wide-eyed Tsubodai on their heels.
    Genghis stood on the blue-green sand below them, looking up. He held a stick in his hands and gestured with it, drawing a line on the ground.
    “Show me,” he ordered.
    It was Kachiun who took the stick and drew in neat strokes. Khasar watched in fascination as his brother re-created the canyon he had seen a few hours before. To one side, Kachiun drew a copy of the arched gate and Genghis rubbed his chin in irritation.
    “We could tear the carts up to make wooden shields to get men close,” he said doubtfully.
    Kachiun shook his head. “That would bring us to the gate against their shafts, but once we were there, they could drop stones on us. From that height, a few planks would be smashed to pieces.”
    Genghis raised his head, gazing over the ranks of the families to the treeless expanse of the desert in all directions. They had nothing with which to build.
    “Then we will have to draw them out,” he said. “A staged retreat, with valuable items left in our wake. I will send in men in the best armor and they will survive the arrows, but be driven back by them in panic, with much shouting.” He smiled at the prospect. “It will teach our warriors a little humility, perhaps.”
    Kachiun rubbed his boot along the edge of the drawing. “It might work if we could know when they open the gate, but the canyon twists. As soon as we are out of sight, we’ll have no way of knowing when they come out. If I could get a couple of boys onto the crags at the sides, they could signal to us, but it is a vicious climb and there’s no cover on those rocks. They would be seen.”
    “May I speak, lord?” Tsubodai said suddenly.
    Khasar started in indignation. “I told you to be silent. Can you not see this is important?” The gaze of all three men turned on the young warrior, and he blushed darkly.
    “I am sorry. I thought of a way we might know when they come out.”
    “Who are you?” Genghis asked.
    Tsubodai’s voice wavered as he bowed his head. “Tsubodai of the Uriankhai, lord.” He caught himself in embarrassment. “Of the nation, lord, I—” Genghis held up a hand. “I remember. Tell me what you are thinking.”
    With a visible effort, Tsubodai swallowed his nervousness and told them. It surprised him that they had not thought of it. The gaze of Genghis in particular seemed to bore into him, and he ended staring away into the middle distance.
    Tsubodai suffered in silence while the three men considered. After an age, Genghis nodded.
    “That could work,” he said, grudgingly. Tsubodai seemed to grow a little taller.
    Khasar flashed a smile at the younger man, as if he were responsible for his cleverness.
    “See to it, Kachiun,” Genghis said. He grinned at Tsubodai’s pride. “Then I will ride to see this place you describe.” His mood changed as he considered destroying some of the carts that had carried the families across the desert. With wood so scarce, each one was much mended and handed down through the generations. There was no help for it.
    “Take the first ten carts you see and join the wood into a barricade that can be held and moved.”
    He saw Kachiun’s gaze drift over the khan’s ger at his back and snorted.
    “Begin with the next cart you