Now that Mongol was strong, he set about the usual business of the giants of Steppe: conquering China. Just for practice he started with Hsi-Hsia, the dwarf in Tibet, who was the weakest of the three Chinese powers. Hsi-Hsia's territory controlled the old Silk Road, and Mongol hankered for more silk underwear, so this was as good a place to begin as any.
But Mongol, for all his skill in open-country battle, was not much good at attacking a castle. He tore up Hsi-Hsia on the field, but when the dwarf hid behind his walls Mongol couldn't get at him. He tried and tried, riding around the castle and shooting arrows at it, but with little success.
Mongol raided Hsi-Hsia's territory several times, then tried to get into the castle by moving the Yellow River away. But he wasn't a very good dam builder either, so that didn't work. Still, he made things so rough for Hsi that the dwarf agreed to be his vassal after all.
Now Mongol turned against Kin, the Tungus giant of north China—the one who had ousted civilized Khitan.
As it happened, Kin was growing a new head. This new head told Mongol to get down on his knees before it.
Mongol's own head, Jenghiz Qan, flew into a rage. "I won't humble myself before this imbecile!" he cried, spitting at Kin.
Mongol made deals with a couple of dwarves in Kin's territory: Ongut, of the Turk family, who guarded the frontier; and Khitan himself, who now lived on the other side. Naturally Khitan didn't have much affection for Kin!
So while Ongut let Mongol in on the northwest, Khitan helped him on the northeast.
In 1211 Mongol began his war with Kin. It actually took him more than twenty Days to finish it, because he still didn't know how to capture a castle. So he would storm in and tear things up and take booty, then go back home. That gave Kin a chance to catch his breath. Also, Mongol was used to getting rid of enemies by chopping them up or eating them whole—but the giants of China were so fat that he couldn't possibly chop up everything or eat it without turning Chinese himself—a fate worse than death! And Kin himself had been a barbarian only a hundred Days ago, so he fought back pretty hard. On top of all that, Mongol was already getting into fights with other dwarves, so he wasn't paying proper attention to Kin. This made it a long campaign.
Actually, Kin had several castles in his large territory, and Mongol did finally capture one, in 1215. He had never been in a castle before, and he just didn't understand it, so he tore it up and then set it on fire. It was really too bad to waste it like that; but the barbarian was merely destroying what he didn't understand.
Mongol turned this battle over to one of his hands, while his head Jenghiz concentrated on the next war. This was with the large dwarf, Black Khitan, derived from a fragment of the old Khitan giant that fled Kin further to the west. But Black Khitan was sick, having lost his old head and grown a new one that he didn't like, and he really was glad to join Mongol and be done with it.
Next west was the small giant Khwarizm, who was another matter. He was new, having only acquired his territory a few Days before, and he had a hot temper. Mongol wanted to trade, since the other end of the Silk Road was in Khwarizm's territory; but the little giant pinched Mongol's fingers and insulted him. So the next Day Mongol rode against him, fully armed.
Khwarizm's fighting strength in that region was greater than Mongol's for he was in his home territory while Mongol had to climb over the mountain between them to get there.
Furthermore, a large part of Mongol was still fighting tough Kin in the east. But Mongol was a tremendous giant now, and extremely well disciplined, and in just a couple of Days he demolished Khwarizm. He was well on the way to mastering the entire world.
In 1227 Mongol lost his head, that had served him so well for over twenty Days.
And Alp was out of the Game. The action continued, both in the galaxy and in cartoon summary, but his role was done. Alp had somewhat over one million points and was the high scorer of the Game to date. It was time to retire; he would never have a better opportunity to obtain Galactic status.
His Audience Quotient had fared well too: average steady viewing had risen to a phenomenal seven million.
Alp no longer cared how many thousands of spectators had watched his every act, whether in battle or with his wives; the important thing was his tremendous success with the part.
"But I am curious about one thing," he said to the Game Machine, who always seemed to have the time for an individual conversation despite its colossal responsibilities elsewhere. "When I sought the documents, you did not interfere because no one complained. But in matters of historical accuracy you do exert control. Why did you permit me to steal the role of Jenghiz Qan?"
"There was no theft," it replied equably. "Temujin was the historical Jenghiz Qan—or Genghis Khan, as it is rendered in some texts."
"But I stretched my part way beyond history! Collusion with Togrul and Jamuqa, and their own assumptions of Qan Titles—"
"No, you followed the script with admirable accuracy, all of you. Jamuqa was indeed Gur-Khan for a time, and Togrul used his Chinese title Wang Khan for years until his death. Jenghiz Qan is a very difficult part to play properly, so the Machine saw to it that a specially qualified man was available. In past renderings of the Game of Steppe there have been distortions because of the inadequacy of Galactic players; people who shied away from the necessities of barbarian power or were unable to scheme in the fashion of the true nomad."
Alp perceived that he owed more to this intelligent Machine than he had thought. His very presence here in the galaxy must have been arranged by it... "Nomad no more," he said. "Now I need to buy my citizenship in the galaxy."
"Why should you wish to do this?"
"You know why, Machine! How do I go about it?"
"There is no need."
"You know there is a need. Death may mean nothing to you, since you're not alive; but if I set foot outside the Game—"
"You have been pardoned your origin," it said.
"...the police will send me back to— what? "
"There was considerable sentiment encouraging your pardon, once the facts were known. You are now a prominent figure in the galaxy, Alp the Uigur. The Galactic Counsel passed a special resolution by unanimous acclaim. Keep your winnings; you are now a rather wealthy Galactic Citizen."
Alp was amazed. "How did they know—?"
"The Game Machine, by permitting your abduction into this framework, assumed a certain responsibility for your welfare. That was the essence of its testimony before the Galactic Council. It must be understood that the purpose of the Machine was not philanthropic; it was merely promoting a more effective, entertaining and educational Game by introducing a genuinely historical figure and providing him with strong motivation to succeed.
You were never actually in danger of extradition—"
But Alp was no longer paying attention. A panel had opened, and there stood Koka/Borte, the Galactic girl with strong nomad ancestry. No doubt the Machine had arranged that too, but Alp didn't care. She was not nine as he had met her, or in her fifties as he had left her. She was her real age, which seemed to be about his own, and she was absolutely lovely.
She smiled at him expectantly. Now he could marry her all over again, dispensing with the need to maintain secondary wives. She would take thousands of days to grow old! No Game part could match that luxury!
"And don't broadcast this, Machine!" he said as she came into his grasp.
Author's Note for TOR edition of Steppe
By this time you probably realize that the history related in Steppe is genuine, whether presented in Game-form or cartoon-form. You have just had a fairly comprehensive course in Central Asian history. History fascinates me, but evidently it doesn't interest publishers, so I had to mask it as space opera. Unfortunately I didn't mask it well enough, and publishers realized that there was educational value here, and shied away. I feel that this is a good way to make history interesting to those who normally find it boring, so I really enjoyed the challenge of this proje
ct. I generally do have more than one level to my writing, for those who care to fathom it. But relevance and serious content can be hazardous to a fiction-writer's career.
1972 was a good year for writing, but a poor year for sales. I completed five novels— Hard Sell, A Piece of Cake (Triple Detente), Kiai!, Steppe, and Ghost—and sold one, Rings of Ice, which I hadn't yet written. That one was my first sale based on a summary; after that I usually did not write novels until they sold, and as a result my rejects diminished and my income tripled. So this was a significant turning point; every novel I have completed from that time on has been sold. But of the five for 1972, only three have been eventually published, and one of those— Steppe—only in Europe. And thereby hangs a tale.
You see, they didn't want Steppe in Europe, either. But a British hardcover publisher was interested in getting into the SF genre, and so was picking up what it could get from the major names—and some lesser ones, such as Anthony. So it solicited and bought an available Anthony novel in 1975. This was Rings of Ice, published in America the year before. That's right: the novel I sold from summary, after sustaining six successive washouts. (Six?
Yes—there was also MerCycle, completed late in 1971.)
Fine for the publisher. But one novel does not a program make. So they (I have never been able to decide whether a publisher is singular or plural) were prevailed upon by my clever British agent to purchase a "new"
Anthony novel—and that was Steppe. They took it in 1975, published it in 1976—and no one else wanted it. But virtue is not necessarily unrewarded. I was pleased with this publisher, so I shunted much stronger material to it: the CLUSTER series. The publisher loved it, published it, and resold it for paperback publication for over £3000 per volume, which was more than I had been paid by the American publisher. Then they stiffed me on my share, and that ended my relationship with that hardcover outfit.
But when they made the deal for CLUSTER they also required the paperback publisher to take Steppe, thus getting this loser off their hands. I understand it went for a nominal fee of £100, or under one-thirtieth of the amount commanded by the others. It was published in paperback in 1980, and also appeared in German translation that year. So Steppe was in print, but was not any phenomenal success.
Meanwhile, Tom Doherty of TOR BOOKS read one of the British editions of Steppe and liked it very much, but perceived no American edition. That was a peculiar situation for an American (actually, an American-naturalized former British) writer. Realizing that the volume had either gone out of print in America or (was it possible?) had never been published in America, he set out in pursuit of it. After all, if this interesting novel was actually begging for an American market, he just happened to have a rather persuasive contact with a prospective publisher.
His lonely quest took him along obscure bypaths, where other Anthony novels languished in Small-Press or Out-of-Print, so he bought these (after all, might as well do something while you're in the boondocks) and kept looking. By the time he finally caught up to Steppe, he had bought a total of ten Anthony books. This got my attention. I did some touching-up on one of them, But What of Earth? , that turned Tom Doherty's hair a shade grayer. He hurried to Florida, where we met and conversed, and TOR became a serious market for my newer work.
Because my new science fiction goes to one publisher, and my new fantasy to another, and I do not break faith with publishers (or anyone else), this meant my projects in other genres, such as Horror or Historical. As it happens, I have been chafing for some time to get into such other genres, but had been balked by, you guessed it, the indifference of publishers, as the publishing history of Steppe demonstrates. So I am satisfied, and in due course there will be material such as has not been seen before from Anthony. And it seems that it all started with Steppe—
the novel that no one but Tom Doherty really wanted.
Now at last Steppe is seeing American print, and you readers will signify your verdict on its merit by buying copies. If the novel sells well, vindicating my judgment in writing it and Mr. Doherty's in publishing it, we shall be pleased, and the likelihood is great that I will proceed to write the sequels I had had in mind at the outset, to cover in similar fashion other segments of human history. (I don't count sequels as "new"; they are continuations of the original work, and go to the publisher of that work. A prolific writer has to make some fairly fine distinctions at times.) Perhaps Northland, in the period of the Vikings, or Desert, in the time of the Egyptian pyramids, or Sea, as in the peoples of the Mediterranean, such as the Romans. That sort of thing. The whole world beckons, from ancient Africa to ancient America. If Steppe flops, then we shall be displeased, and will not inflict any more of this history upon you. Thus the readers, knowing the true nature of this series, will have the final decision. That's very fair, don't you think?
—Piers Anthony
Copyright © 1976 by Piers Anthony
Cover art by Boris Vallejo
ISBN: 0-812-53120-5
Document Outline
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Piers Anthony, Steppe
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