Fong felt more secure in his relationship to Kaidu than ever before, because Teb-Tengri was out of favor: The arrogant shaman had offended once too often. Nonetheless there was still a hostile factor that had influence with Kaidu: Achikh. After Nils had left, Fong had no difficulty reading Achikh telepathically. Thus he knew what Nils had told the warrior: that he, Fong, had put a spell on Kaidu, and manipulated his mind.
Achikh would surely tell his brother that, and while Kaidu might not believe it—in fact, Fong had seeded just that disbelief—others might readily be convinced. For there were more than a few who distrusted the emperor’s envoy, or were jealous of his obvious influence. And these men had their own influence with Kaidu. While Fong, in turn, had to leave Kaidu largely independent, self-determined, or the man would lose his force, his charisma and credibility.
Thus what Fong whispered in Kaidu’s mind—for the Chinese psi master had hypnoconditioned the chief to receive his silent suggestions—what Fong whispered was that Achikh might covet the chieftaincy. Why else had he returned? And that he might well be conspiring to gain it.
He put it no more strongly than suggestions. For the connection between Kaidu and his younger brother clearly grew from more than brotherhood. Fong suspected they’d been comrades in arms in earlier lives, fighting beside each other, perhaps dying together. Ties from such lives were strong. And Kaidu was a strong-willed man, and Fong’s power over him less than absolute. Thus his suggestions had to seem reasonable, the sort of notions that might occur to Kaidu independently, were it not for past-life ties.
The suggestions had taken root, and Kaidu became curt with Achikh, regarding him with distrust. Achikh felt this, as indeed others did, and he thus avoided Kaidu, spending most of his time training for war. In this he became popular, for he had learned techniques from Orc drill masters that were new and interesting to the tribesmen.
The Buriats had voted Kaidu to be their Great Khan, and the clans had dispersed to their own territories. Kaidu and his household and herds remained near Urga, however, it being the traditional location of Buriat Great Khans when there were such. A considerable number of young men swore themselves nöküt to Kaidu, a bond even stronger than family, and each great clan left a mingan of warriors with him, a thousand fighting men, while lesser clans left two jegut or more, two hundred. Whose households also stayed, with herds to support them. These covered a great territory on the south flanks of the Hentiyn Nuruu and the valley of the Tola, where the grass was better than in most of their land.
They equalled in all 10,000 warriors, a tümen, and began training together, commanded by Kaidu’s older cousin Arpa. A much larger army could be gathered if the need arose. But the 10,000 was a mobilized force far more powerful than any other among the three Mongol nations. Kaidu then sent messages to the tribal chiefs among the Khalkhaz and the Kalmuls, describing for them his analysis of the empire’s power and the emperor’s offer. He invited them to join the Buriat leaders in a meeting to discuss a possible alliance. He said nothing of the force he’d already gathered. Word of that would reach their nations as quickly as his messengers, and for him to mention it might be taken as a veiled threat.
Achikh had not sworn himself nökür, and this, along with Fong’s subliminal suggestions, troubled Kaidu, although his brother was serving as beki over a hundred warriors.
Kaidu fidgeted, waiting for word, though he knew that the tribes of other nations would take time to discuss the matter before sending even a noncommittal reply. Which was the kind he expected at this point. But in his restlessness, his attention went more and more to Achikh, and he called him to him. They met in the evening in Kaidu’s ger, both men still sweaty after their day of training.
Kaidu had ordered Fong to be there too. The Chinese felt cautiously pleased. He knew the chief’s mind, and expected a break between the brothers. Which would destroy any influence Achikh might still have, and perhaps lead to his exile, or worse.
Achikh’s weapons were not taken from him when he entered the khan’s ger. They were brothers, and there had been no break between them or any hint of one, and Kaidu kept guards by him these days. When Achikh entered, Kaidu stood up and greeted him.
“I am glad to see my brother Achikh,” he said. “I am told you have done outstanding work with your jegun. People have told me, ‘Achikh brought back knowledge of much value from his travels.’ ” He paused, then: “Why haven’t you sworn yourself nökür to me?”
The sudden question—accusation actually and with a note of bitterness—surprised both men. Achikh held his brother’s eyes as he answered. “I have wanted to swear nökür to you, but I have not been able to. I believe it’s not good that you have allied the Buriat with the emperor. I believe that this foreigner”—with a scornful head toss he indicated Fong—“has spelled you, and caused you to decide as you have. He is a wizard. We both know that. I believe he is a wizard who knows how to spell people secretly.”
Kaidu’s face first paled, then darkened with blood, and his brows knotted, but Achikh plunged on. “I believe your earlier plan, to invade the Yakut-Russ, was far better. For then the Buriat would stay a free people, not commanded by any Tibetan. The emperor has promised us honor and wealth and vast lands, but when we have been separated from our families and our herds, and great Chinese armies lie between, what . . . ”
“SILENCE!!!”
Kaidu was trembling with anger now. With more than anger. Fong’s hypnoconditioning had caused him to do what he would not otherwise do, given the circumstances, his heritage, and the information he had. And his brother’s words had forced these incompatibilities into contact in Kaidu’s mind. Nor had he any way to rationalize them; the only responses available were irrational, and he sensed this but could do nothing about it. Further, he had committed his honor, his chieftaincy, his people to this plan, and Achikh’s words shot doubt into his mind. Fong knew it, but dared not intervene now.
Achikh knew it too, but the cannon shot of Kaidu’s enraged command paralyzed his tongue. It seemed to him that he was a dead man, or would be before nightfall. So he did what seemed to him the most honorable thing. His sword hissed from its scabbard, and Kaidu’s guards, as shocked as Achikh by their chief’s explosion, reacted slowly. The younger brother took one stride forward, and although the Chinese tried to avoid it, his blade sliced through Fong’s fending hand and took him in the side of the neck, cutting through muscle, severing the spine. Blood fountained as the emperor’s envoy toppled sideways, his head flopping on one shoulder, more than half cut off.
Then Kaidu sprang upon Achikh insanely, hands at his throat, and Achikh let fall his sword, unwilling to spill his brother’s life. They fell to the bloody floor mat, Kaidu on top, panting, his hands choking.