And slaughtered the ambushers. Thanks to Dai-Sechen, the Mongols and Kerayits had not been caught napping.
Then Jamuqa formed a counter-league, gathering in the remnants of the clans Alp had defeated, as well as elements of the Markit, Oirat, Naiman and Tatars. It was a formidable association, more powerful numerically than Alp's own. At a great assembly in 1201 Jamuqa had himself proclaimed Gur-Qan: the Emperor of Steppe.
Could he get away with that? The historical document had named Jenghiz Qan—but the Game did not follow history precisely. The name meant nothing if the power was not there.
There was nothing to do but meet this threat directly. If Alp dallied, Pei-li would come after him at his own convenience. It would all be very civilized on the personal level, and Alp privately admired the job Pei-li had done for his role of Jamuqa. But there was room for only one overall Qan of Steppe—and Alp had to be that one. Even if he hadn't been playing for the highest stakes—his own life in the real world—he would have responded to the political challenge raised here.
Alp laid his plans carefully. He cemented his pact with Uga, who now had assumed a title of his own: Wang Qan. "We're all competing for the ultimate Qan," Alp said to him, privately shuddering at this unhistorical duplication of the title. "If you and I do not act now, Jamuqa will walk away with it, and both of us will lose. Is that the way you want it?"
"I suppose you're right," Uga said reluctantly. "I don't like to fight against an old friend, but he has been pushing it recently. I really hadn't thought he would show that amount of skill on his own..."
That had surprised Alp, too. Almost as much as Uga's own ineptitude! Circumstance was bringing out new facets...
Together they amassed a great army and set out to meet the current enemy.
A supernova exploded before them.
"The Naiman magicians have raised this storm against us!" Alp exclaimed, frustrated.
Borchu laughed merrily. Alp, embarrassed, shut off his screen. He had forgotten, as he sometimes did: people no longer believed in magic, except when they called it God. He believed in it, of course, but it was not expedient to advertise that among the supposedly sophisticated Galactics.
But the storm was real enough. The fleet had to pick its way through the pelting stellar fragments—and Pei-li's army was just beyond it. What a liability!
Still, the battle, when it came, was a great victory for Alp. He did not catch Jamuqa, but he scattered the forces of the enemy.
Then his "enemy brethren," the Tays, made trouble again despite the loss of their chief Targ, and Alp had to campaign there. He thought it would be routine, but the Tays fought back with inspired ferocity and repulsed his forces. One arrow struck his ship glancingly; his horse was incapacitated and Alp himself was partially stunned.
Helpless, he drifted out of control.
His captain Jelme spotted him and closed with his ship in space. Jelme, at great risk to himself, boarded, found Alp half-conscious, and carried him bodily to his own horse. They limped out of the fray.
"The battle!" Alp cried in more than physical anguish.
"The engagement is more than one attack," Jelme reassured him. "We shall regroup and take the Tay another time. Let Borchu command in your absence. Right now you have to rest; you took a bad stun."
Jelme had risked his own part to fetch Alp out of that mess. Yet Jelme was only one of many Mongol officers, and Alp knew that any of the others would have done the same. "How do I deserve such loyalty?" he asked as his body grew fevered from the pain of stun-recovery. "Real nomads would have let me die..."
"I don't know," Jelme said. "I suppose we are pretty far removed from the original Game plan—but we've got to play by the rules we know. You're the best leader we've had, so we have to stand by you. You seem to have a genuine feel for nomad tactics; you think of things the rest of us don't. Sometimes I wonder just what you do in civilian life."
Discreetly inquired—but Alp wasn't ready to tell others. Every man who learned his secret was a potential Pei-li, rival for the prize. "Nothing," he said with a wry grin.
Borte came to care for him, and soon he felt better.
A few Minutes later—the next day—Alp's forces smashed the Tay. Those surviving who would not swear loyalty to Temujin were systematically massacred; he had had too much of betrayal. The others were worked into the regular Mongol cavalry, spread about so as to lose their Tay connections. In the cartoon parlance, Kiyat had eaten Tay.
But there remained some fight in a few of the lesser Tay officers. The Tay had fought extremely well, and Alp wanted those officers—alive with him, or out of the Game. A group of six detached and fled. Alp recognized the markings of the lead ship. This was the warrior who had shot him down in battle!
Taking two hundred horse, Alp set out after the fugitive. The little band maneuvered cleverly but could not shake the experienced Kiyat pursuit. Twice Alp was sure he had them trapped—and twice he lost them again, shooting down only the lesser warriors while the leader escaped. Alp's fury was mixed with admiration: that was some Tay!
Then the enemy horse lost power. The lone fugitive slowed, and was surrounded by Alp's riders. "Who are you?" Alp demanded on the screen, close range.
The face of a youngster appeared. The man was no more than twenty, but there was a fire about him that was more than the foolhardiness of youth. "I am Jebe the Yesut."
"The Arrow," Alp mused, translating the name's literal meaning. "A fitting designation." For there was no doubt of Jebe's proficiency with the bow!
"You would never have caught me if my horse had been fresh!" Jebe said defiantly.
"True," Alp agreed, amicable now that he had his man. He wondered, as he did whenever he encountered a valiant warrior, whether there could be original nomad blood in him.
"Give me a fair chance!" Jebe said, and it was a challenge, not a plea. "Let me have a fresh mount, and I'll fight anyone you name. I want to die honorably."
Struck by his courage, Alp consented. It was understood that Jebe would not be freed. If he overcame one Kiyat warrior, he would have to meet another. But it was a fitting demise for a brave man. If he took several with him, his honor and his Game-score would be that much greater.
Alp designated a ship with a blaze of white on its nose, and Jebe transferred. The Mongols made a sphere a light-second across, and a volunteer champion entered to take up Jebe's challenge. Contests of this nature were much enjoyed by the players of Steppe, and the screens were alive with private bets on the outcome.
Jebe accelerated toward the Kiyat, but did not fire. He galloped on through the center, gaining speed, and in a quarter-second was up against the containing wall. One of his accurate arrows brought down the ship nearest him; then he struck another with his spear and broke through the hole.
The Kiyats swarmed after him—but Jebe had a full second's start and a fresh horse. They could not catch him.
Alp swore violently in Uigur, furious at having been so readily tricked by a mere Galactic. But in a moment his expletives turned to laughter. That Jebe possessed true nomad cunning!
A few Minutes later the white-nosed horse returned. A thousand Mongol ships went out to bring it down—but Alp made them hold their fire. "What mischief are you up to now, Arrow?" he demanded, suppressing a smile.
"I have only hinted at what I can do," Jebe said insolently. "Now I'd like to do it for you, because you gave me my fair chance and you are the most worthy Qan in the Game."
For a moment Alp hesitated, uncertain whether to blot out this impudence or accept the services of a remarkable player. Jebe might be a Tay agent yet...no, after Alp was through with the Tay clan, there would not be anything there for an agent to serve! Better to trust this man's proffered loyalty, as he had done with others.
"All right, Jebe," he said. "I'll give you command of ten horsemen. Show me what you can do for me, and you will prosper."
Then Alp proceeded to reduce the Tatars as he had the Tays, massacring the warriors and in
corporating their women and children into his own tribe. Jebe did well and was promoted; but Subotai did even better, tricking the Tatars into a poor defensive posture at the outset of that campaign.
Yet another coalition formed against him, led again by Jamuqa. Alp had to campaign continuously against the Markit, Naiman, and fragments of other tribes. More Minutes passed in battle, and though Alp won steadily, he seemed no closer to achieving the nomad unity he sought. But the worst was yet to come.
By 1203 Alp's relations with Togrul the Kerayit—his old friend Uga—had deteriorated. Togrul had undertaken several missions on his own, without advising his ally Temujin, and had failed to split the Game-spoils with him.
Once, during a joint engagement against the Naiman, Togrul had decamped in the night, leaving Temujin to extricate himself alone, with great difficulty. Uga later apologized, claiming it was an error, that his runners had been ambushed before reaching Alp with news of his plans. But the circumstance was suspicious, and Alp was forced to wonder just how far the judgment of his old friend could now be trusted. Uga was making too many mistakes.
Still, it was welcome news when a messenger arrived from Togrul with an invitation to a reconciliation feast.
Together they could put down Jamuqa once and for all. "I shall attend at once," Alp announced.
But no sooner had the Kerayit horseman departed than Alp's screen lighted again. It was old Munlik, his adviser since childhood. While Alp had been carving a Steppe empire Munlik had quietly allied himself most cosily by marrying Temujin's mother Oelun-eke. Alp disliked him no less for that but had to make the best of it. The widow did need a husband. Munlik's seven grown sons had become increasingly obstreperous, now considering themselves to be the equals of Temujin's own brothers: did they not have the same mother? Old Munlik himself was a crafty one—but loyal, now that Alp was Qan.
"What is it, my father?" Alp inquired politely, suppressing the quirk of annoyance he felt at having to use this address.
"Son, listen to me," Munlik said greasily. "I served your father when he was invited to a feast. Had he but listened to me then..."
An ugly shock ran through Alp. There was no doubt about what the old man meant—but Alp had heard similar suspicions before. "Are you implying that my honorable ally Wang Qan would betray me?" he demanded tersely.
"Son, I know you don't like me—but when have I ever misinformed you?" Unctuous but accurate! "Togrul's son is close to Jamuqa, and he has prevailed on his father to join Jamuqa against you. They have set an ambush to kill you. My spies know this."
Was the old man trying to force a wedge between Alp and Uga? Maybe—but he would hardly dare if there were not some element of truth to it, for Munlik knew Alp would check. Munlik had an excellent spy system, and a success of this nature would substantially enhance the house of Munlik in the Mongol hierarchy and assure his sons of increasing power. And Alp knew what Munlik could not: that Uga and Pei-li were old friends who would find collaboration easy. Uga's claim to the leading role had been weakened to the point of uselessness; if he had finally given it up, he might be promoting it for his friend. What quicker way than treachery?
"Show me your evidence," Alp said, curtly.
Munlik did. It was convincing. Alp had to make a pretext to cancel the rendezvous with Togrul, carefully concealing his knowledge of the plot. He was furious and heartsick. His friendship with Uga—and with Pei-li too—
pre-dated every other Game acquaintance, and he had relied on that continuing liaison more than he had realized.
But there was no doubt Uga had turned against him—secretly.
There was nothing to do but prepare for war. Togrul was now an enemy, the worst kind, and had to be eliminated from the Game.
Alp's preparations could not be concealed entirely. Togrul, realizing that his gambit stood exposed, massed an army of his own and moved into Mongol space, hoping to surprise Alp.
The battle was terrific. Never before had Alp fought directly against the Kerayit, and he discovered them to be formidable warriors. The Wang Qan's fleet outnumbered Alp's, and this time no tricks of deployment sufficed to reverse the odds. The Mongol officers wrought seeming miracles of infiltration, planting the banner of the nine yaktails on a planet behind the enemy formation, and they managed to cripple the horse of Togrul's scheming son.
But Borchu was wounded, and so was Temujin's own son Ogodai. Slowly, relentlessly, the Kerayit pressed their advantage.
Alp had to retreat before that disciplined array. He retained the nucleus of his cavalry, but it was now in no condition to match the Kerayit. Togrul's troops followed, and it was all Alp could do to keep out of their clutches.
Never before had a numerically inferior force put up such strong resistance to the mighty Kerayit—but this was little consolation to Alp. He had miscalculated, and Uga had won the day.
It might have been a different matter, had Alp had more time to prepare. But the Steppe cared little for excuses.
Alp had been deceived by his reliance on a friendship carrying over from another part—and had paid heavily for that foolishness. Now the scales were off his eyes—too late.
He came to the region of space frequented by the Qongirat, his wife's clan. Dai-Sechen was sympathetic to Temujin, but his tribe belonged to the enemy alliance. There was little he could do openly. It was a difficult situation.
Borte was still lovely after eighteen Days of marriage, and still Alp's favorite wife—in fact, still the only one he really cared about. He did his duty by his other wives, but didn't even keep track of their sons. Now Borte went among her people, pleading as only a woman could the cause of kinship. She reminded them how well the Qan had treated her, and how he had even gone to war to rescue her from the Markit, and how he honored all her sons without distinction between them, even the first...
It was effective. This was a type of loyalty the Qongirat understood. They joined Temujin and gave his party the help it needed. What a woman he had married!
Still he had to retreat to the cold marches that constituted the northern rim of the galaxy. Winter was longer here and the depots farther apart; few journeyed here from preference. Many of Alp's followers deserted him, making his case even worse.
And he had aspired to be Qan of all Steppe!
He sent a reproachful message to Togrul, reminding him of past services, such as the time he had helped the man recover his Kerayit throne. "Weakened by hunger, you came on like a dying fire. I gave you food, ships, supplies. You were thin; within an Hour I had fattened you again." He did not specifically mention their illicit project to anticipate the thrust of the Game, but he knew Uga would remember. To betray that friendship for the greed of a higher Game score, when he knew what a loss would mean to Alp's Galactic survival...
Was this the reason the Machine had not interfered with their manipulations? There was something about that that he could never quite remember... Had the Machine known that success would split them apart and cost them everything? It was certainly hard to get ahead!
Yet Alp condemned himself, too, for not anticipating this. The Game was nearing its conclusion, surely. Now that they all had Mongol parts in the period of the historical Jenghiz, Uga and Pei-li did not need Alp any more.
They were Galactics, not nomads; they did not share his philosophies. He should have known they were demons at heart, not to be trusted.
He could foresee the logical future. The various conspirators would eliminate each other, and the real Qa-Qan, the "Greatest Ruler," would emerge from the ruin just as history had planned. The Machine had it arranged, after all...
Alp moped only a few Minutes. He had been in tight spots before, in this part and in others and in life itself, and was not going to give it up now. The godlike Machine seemed never to interfere overtly; it followed the rules of the Game in order to mold its history. If Alp overcame all obstacles and managed after all to occupy the spot Jenghiz Qan was scheduled for, the Machine would have to go along with him, rather
than distort a much larger section of history by removing him.
Or so he had to assume. Most Galactics believed it was impossible for a player to beat the Game plan—but Alp was not Galactic. That was the trouble!
Alp spent the summer of 1203 at the very fringe of the galaxy, staring out at the emptiness of intergalactic space. Did they have other Games going on in other galaxies? What were other galaxies? His Galactic knowledge had faded, as Uga once had warned, and he remembered very little outside the Game. Borte would help him in the demon world, if he ever reached it, but still—still it made him profoundly uneasy. Perhaps death was the simplest way out...
This was space madness! He had heard of it now and then in the course of the Game, but not before comprehended it. The universe was large... a wondering whether anything at all had meaning...
For six Hours he endured it; then he had to return to the more familiar, comfortable stamping grounds, no matter what awaited him there. Deep space was not for nomad minds!
The enemy plotters had fallen out among themselves during his absence. Jamuqa had conspired to assassinate the Wang Qan—but Togrul had discovered it in time and driven out his former friend. So Jamuqa the Gur-Qan had taken refuge with the Naiman. One of his associates actually joined Temujin.
Yes, Alp's position had improved materially during his summer's exile, thanks to the dishonor among thieves.
Uga had made a fatal mistake when he practiced to betray Alp. For Alp was a true Steppe nomad, born a Uigur, among whom betrayal was punishable by dismemberment and death. He had kept faith with his friend—but now that Uga had broken faith, he was an enemy. There was no such thing as keeping faith with an enemy. A whole new set of standards prevailed.
When it came to loyalty, the Uigur was absolute. And when it came to deceit, he was a master.
Alp's new campaign had begun with his message of reproach. He continued with a barrage of false pleas for rapprochement with the Wang Qan, Togrul. Temujin's brother Qasar made contact, for Qasar's family had fallen into the power of the Kerayit. Qasar really believed in the mission, so Uga's trick truth-swords could not give him away.