Steppe

  He did not fool himself that he was anywhere near the success he required, however. All he had done was to survive and grow into manhood, and make the role viable. He remained the young chief of a minor clan: one among many.

  When Temujin was seventeen years old—four Days after Alp assumed the part—he called upon the chief of the Qongirat Mongols. This was another necessary step in his ascension, whatever his personal feelings.

  His three hundred ships suddenly landed at the Qongirat home world, alarming the natives. Frantically they mustered their defensive forces.

  "Peace!" Alp called as Chief Dai-Sechen's worried face appeared on his screen. "I am Temujin—and I come to beg the hand of your lovely daughter!"

  The old man's face broke into a relieved smile. "Welcome, Temujin of the Kiyat! I had not expected to see you thus alive!"

  The girl Borte had been just nine years old when Temujin and Yesugei had visited here last, just prior to Alp's assumption of his role. Temujin, historically, had seen the pretty child and asked for her in marriage, and Dai-Sechen had been pleased to agree. Such a link with powerful Yesugei, Chief of the Kiyat and the important Borjigin tribe, had been an attractive prospect. But almost immediately thereafter, Yesugei had been poisoned by the treacherous Tatars. Temujin had been visiting here when Munlik came to fetch him with the awful news.

  Thus there was important history in this betrothal—but Alp himself had never seen the girl. He had no great expectations—there was no certainty that a pretty child would make a beautiful woman—but now the fortunes of the clans had been reversed, and it was Temujin who needed the alliance, not the Qongirat. So he had come to do his duty: a child-wife was not after all too great a price to pay for success!

  He had a surprise coming! Borte had waited for Days for his coming, and now she was no child of nine but a woman of thirteen—and lovely. She wore a long dress of white felt, with a headdress of pseudo-birch bark covered with precious silk, and the black braids of her hair were entwined with silver coins and tiny statues. Her nose was small, her eyes bright, and she had an elegance of bearing far beyond her years.

  Alp knew it was only a part. But there was something special about her. He saw before him a girl who could have been a true Mongol princess—or even the wife of a Uigur Khagan! Surely the actress had the blood of the historical Steppe in her. Possession of this one would be a delight!

  Dai-Sechen threw a gala wedding party. Alp and his retinue ate until stuffed. No need now to worry about poison; these were Qongirat allies, not Tatar enemies! Then Temujin took off after his bride-to-be, in the time-honored ceremony of the Steppe.

  "You!" he cried suddenly, as if he had just for the first time realized that there was a woman present. He advanced on pretty Borte while the merrymakers chuckled.

  The girl screamed fetchingly and fled from the tent. Alp chased her out onto the surface of the planet, burdened by his monstrous meal and much fine Steppe liquor. She skipped lightly into her own tent, and he lurched after.

  Her sisters and handmaidens lay in ambush inside. They flung themselves on him, and he struggled drunkenly to throw them off and win through to Borte. There was rather pleasant contact of bodies, for these girls were young and healthy and he was not as intoxicated as he pretended; some of the screams were genuine. At last he threw them off and grabbed his bride by her slender waist; she was now laughing too hard to resist. He threw her over his shoulder and bore her triumphantly toward his horse, while her sisters wailed amid their declining chuckles.

  Borte, full-bodied but lithe as a wildcat, halted her supposed struggle for a moment. "You're a strong one!" she murmured in his ear. "Do you exercise regularly?"

  Déjà-vu: the feeling of having been through this before. "You'll find out!" he muttered, swinging her aboard.

  "Are you sorry you betrothed a nine-year-old child?" she inquired mischievously.

  He slapped her on her woman's bottom as he set her down. "It is the sacrifice I make for history," he said, appraising her afresh. She was no child now! "Anyway, that was four years ago."

  "More like four centuries ago!" she said, giving him the direct eye. "Don't you remember?"

  Alp's brain seemed to spin within his skull. "Koka!"

  "That was one part," she admitted. "Kokachin, imitation princess. I had thought it might lead me to adventure, and it did—but more than that, it showed me a man. I have been trying to catch up with you ever since—and I finally made it! Cost me a pretty fee to play opposite you..."

  "But you really were a child! How—?"

  "I was no child, Ko-lo! Haven't you observed the Machine's makeup abilities?"

  He had indeed. He had just never thought to make this particular connection! So the Chinese mock-princess really would have grown to womanhood in four days—had she survived the part! "When I get you to my ger," he promised her seriously, "we shall begin catching up on those four centuries!"

  But there was a brief delay while they loaded her dowry, a precious pseudosable cloak. Then Alp and his party took off for home. It had been a successful mission! He only regretted that there was not space enough, riding double on his horse, to commence that four-century makeup. He was able only to snatch a handful of promise.

  The most powerful ruler of the contemporary Steppe was Togrul, lord of the Kerayit. Alp took a small party and some gifts—including Borte's dowry of sable—and paid a diplomatic call on Togrul at his major planet of Karakorum. This did not match the sophistication of the great Chinese residences but was far more civilized than anything most Mongols knew.

  Togrul was a man of Yesugei's generation, confident in his power. He could muster fifty thousand ships from his own dominions, and more if he drew on his dependencies and alliances. Temujin's forces were pitiful in comparison, yet Alp was not abashed.

  "What brings you here, nephew?" Togrul demanded genially.

  And Alp had his second recent shock of recognition. "Uga!" he exclaimed.

  "Play the part, Alp!" the man muttered, glancing at his retainers nearby.

  Alp played the part. "I merely wanted to renew acquaintance," he said, and there was now a double meaning.

  "Need help, eh?"

  "No, I thought I'd offer you mine."

  Togrul laughed and put his arm around Alp's shoulders. "You're as sharp as your father was! I don't mind admitting, son, Yesugei helped me out of a pinch once. Some fine fighting men in that Borjigin tribe of his! I'm not forgetful what I owe him, even if he's dead now. Why didn't you come to me before?"

  "Didn't have enough of a clan," Alp admitted. And of course he hadn't known this part would be played by his old friend and collaborator Uga!

  "Son, didn't you know I'd have helped you in an instant, for the sake of your father? You didn't have to take any guff off an impostor like Targ!"

  Alp shrugged. "I just like to do things my own way, beholden to none." But that wasn't true; he had debts to Chilaun, who had now joined him for experience, and to Borchu, now his leading lieutenant, and to many others who had befriended him similarly in need. But they accepted his command; Togrul was hardly of that level!

  "Son, you're damn lucky you got out of that cangue! Take my advice: next time you get in a bind, don't fool around with individual heroism! Call on me! And when I'm in a bind, I'll call on you!"

  They both laughed—but the alliance was no joke. Alp had now become a client of the Kerayit leader, and when Togrul made war, Alp could be called to contribute his resources and perhaps his life. He had waited until now so that he could make the alliance honorably, retaining a large measure of independence. His experiences in the Kentei mountains had shown him that in this part more than any other he survived only by luck and sufferance—and he could not afford to depend on either indefinitely. So it was time for well-chosen compacts.

  They entered Togrul's private chambers. "Glad to see you, Alp!" Uga cried. "We're finally at the Mongol times!

  But I thought you'd have a better part!"

  "I was l
ooking for Jenghiz," Alp said. "But I realized—"

  "You know, it came to me that Jenghiz is only a title, a dynasty name! Any leader could fill it, if he had a proper power base. That's why I bought into this one."

  "You—Jenghiz Qan?" Alp asked, surprised.

  "Not yet! But in a few years, why not? I'm not a Mongol—but I have Mongol clients! I could conquer every remaining Mongol tribe tomorrow, if I chose! But that would complicate the picture unnecessarily and get me embroiled in debilitating rivalries. No percentage in that! So when the time comes, I'll simply declare myself a Mongol and assume the title."

  "But I—"

  "But you expected to take Jenghiz yourself. I know. But I looked at it this way: if you got it, fine. But what if you didn't? Should it go by accident to some dumb player we never heard of? Best thing I could do was go for it myself. I came on this scene at a different time than you did, and parts move fast, so I'm not even competing with you."

  "Yes... of course," Alp agreed. It did make sense. Every player had to strive for the best he could do... and he really doubted that Kerayit part could assume Mongol status like that. Meanwhile, he did have a stout ally in Uga, who seemed to have picked up in this part where he had left off as Khagan of the Uigurs, and who was the one man in all the Game who really understood him.

  It was all part of the Game... but Alp could not help himself. He was in love with Borte, player and part. The Game-romance that had started in 841 was a real romance in the late twelfth century, 1184.

  "But it passes so quickly!" he complained after making furious love.

  "Do it again and it will be much slower," she promised him.

  "I mean our marriage. I shall hardly have tested you before you become an old woman!"

  "But what a way to grow old!" she said, laughing. "And there will be other parts for both of us..."

  "All too short! Koka, when the Game is over, will you—"

  She waited expectantly—but he could not say what they both wanted him to say. For his Galactic life was dependent on his Game life; if he did not do extremely well here, there would be no future at all for him. How could he ask her to share that risk? He hadn't even told her of it.

  "Yes I will!" she said. "I don't care what you are in real life, or how well you do in Steppe, or what you look like. You told me before that you weren't married—"

  "I'm not," he said quickly. "But there is something you should know before you decide. I—"

  "I decided four centuries ago," she said. "Then, now, and forever!"

  "But I may not even have any existence outside the—"

  His voice was drowned out by the sound of a ship landing almost on top of the ger. Alp, naked, charged out, his sword flashing. "You crazy fool!" he bawled in good Galactic slang. "This is the camping area!"

  But ships were landing all about, and warriors were dismounting, fully dressed and armed. They were not his men. This was a raiding party!

  Alp fought, but there were too many of them, and his own warriors were not organized.

  There was a scream behind him. "Temujin!"

  Nude Borte was being dragged away by two of the enemy. Half a dozen more warriors stood between them.

  Alp's own men were all occupied.

  Alp charged back toward the tent, laying out warriors right and left. They were Game-players, not true nomads: no match for him individually. He was an energumen with the sword. But there were so many! And more ships were landing!

  In moments his own horse would be stolen. Then he would be truly helpless! He could not reach Borte, who was already being hauled into an enemy vessel. It was a heart-wrenching decision—the same he had made back in life when his wife and child were killed—but the only one; he turned and ran for his steed.

  Even then, it was close. Had he not been bred to the Steppe, he would not have made it. He lost count of the warriors he downed in that mad scramble. But the same chaos that prevented him from saving his wife also inhibited the enemy from reacting to his new thrust. He made it.

  He was not out of it yet! A dozen ships rose with him. For the first time he saw their markings: Markit.

  Markit—the toughest individual fighters of the region. Suddenly he understood. Oelun-eke, mother of Temujin, had been stolen from a Markit chief. It had taken eighteen Days for the Markit revenge to materialize—but the time had been well chosen! Now Temujin's own bride had been stolen in a similar manner!

  There was a certain justice to it that Alp would have admired at another time. Someone among the Markit was a very shrewd player—and the Game Machine would give that man bonus points for that initiative and planning and nicety of execution! Perhaps Alp's own life had been spared intentionally, so that the precise point of the raid would be manifest, in case the Machine had any doubt.

  Beautiful—but they had made one little mistake. They had not taken into account the possibility that the player of the role of Temujin the Kiyat would actually fall in love with the player of Borte the Qongirat, and would go to extraordinary measures to recover her—Game or no Game.

  The real Temujin had had stern pride; Alp knew that, just from the nature of the part. He doubted, now, that Temujin was the one scheduled to become Jenghiz Qan; the boy had the proper qualities, but the elements of the Game were too heavily weighted against him. He would already have been eliminated more than once had not Alp bent the part just enough to gain essential help. Still, it was a decent part—and he was about to stretch it to its limits.

  Let the Game Machine stop him openly, if it had to! Life no longer had meaning without Koka/Borte, and nothing but death would balk him!

  Meanwhile, he had to elude his pursuers. This turned out to be easier than it might have been. Qasar and Borchu had escaped the planet, together with a number of his men. Also, he had posted several ships in orbit. They had not been able to stop the abrupt surprise attack but had evidently given a good account of themselves, and a number survived. These stray forces now closed in and provided cover for his escape. It was a rout, certainly—but they made it safely to the familiar Kentei range.

  Alp did not stay in hiding. The real Temujin might have licked his wounds fatalistically and taken a new wife, but Alp's needs were different and his pride more devious. The moment the enemy cleared out, he took a new steed and went to Togrul the Kerayit. He also sent Borchu and Qasar and Chilaun out to make contact with other Mongol clans, in the hope that some would make common cause with him on this mission. Obviously the Markit would not settle for one prisoner when there was other loot to be taken, and it behooved other Mongols to drive the common enemy out. But of course he wanted more than that; he meant to invade the Markit homespace itself, and that would be no mean undertaking!

  Togrul came through with a small army and led it personally. He seemed eager to discharge his debt to Temujin's father. Alp hoped it would not be too obvious that he and Uga were private friends. By Game logic, now that Alp had cashed in this asset, he should not be able to depend on further help from the Kerayit at a later date, should another emergency arise. That was the seeming foolishness of this mission: he was not doing it for anything important, like vengeance for insult or acquisition of a throne. Just for the recovery of one wife, whose value would surely have been decreased by the uses to which the Markit men would put her in the interim.

  Well, perhaps he would not have to ask for help another time. He hoped so!

  One of the other Mongol clans did respond. Jamuqa, the young chief of the Jajirat, arrived with a welcome complement. Together, the Kiyat, Jajirat and Kerayit elements made a formidable fleet.

  Alp welcomed Jamuqa as soon as the man landed. "Do you know, I was about to choose that part myself!" he admitted.

  "I thought as much," the Jajirat responded with a grin. "Why do you think I came here?"

  "Pei-li!" Alp cried, recognizing his old companion. "I haven't seen you since Khitan days!"

  "Well, I've seen you! When it became evident that the Khitans were not going to be it, I
watched where you headed. I had to abort a going part to do it, but I got in there and snapped up the best prospect!"

  "And Temujin didn't look like much!" Alp finished.

  "Of course I didn't realize you were actually there. But when I saw how Temujin handled himself, I had a suspicion. So the first pretext I had to come and see for myself—"

  "Right!" Alp said, holding no rancor. Pei-li had played it smarter and could not be faulted for that. "Wait till you meet Togrul!"

  "I already have! That was another reason to come. We made a good team once—all the way up to Khagan! I think he has out-maneuvered the rest of us again—but we'll see."

  "Yes," Alp agreed. "These Mongol politics are worse than the Uigur—and China is stronger now."

  Togrul arrived. "But together we can do it!" he said. "It doesn't matter whom Jenghiz Qan derived from historically, so long as he manifests in the Game on schedule. I think the Machine will cover up if one of us pre-empts it. I figure it will happen in the next twenty Days."

  "That makes us potential enemies..." Pei-li said.

  "Stop thinking like a barbarian!" Uga snapped. "It makes us rivals—and we're friends."

  "Still," Pei-li said thoughtfully, "a part that size—"

  "Let the loser support the winner," Uga said. "And let the winner see that the loser has his chance to make a good score too. Jenghiz may be good for a million points—and his chief generals a hundred thousand each."

  It made sense. Uga always did seem to have worked things out properly. Together they had three times the chance to become Jenghiz, and the support of the other two would sway other players toward the eventual winner.

  They could all do well and build this into an even better part than the Machine intended. "Agreed!" Alp said, and Pei-li nodded.