Mother of the Blue Wolf Chapter 1

Mongke Bulag – Spring 1470

Mandukhai paced the dais in the gathering tent, back and forth between copper fire pots, as she waited. News of Manduul Khan’s death had spread swiftly beyond the heart of the Nation. Keeping such an event secret had only proven possible for so long before Mandukhai could no longer contain the truth. After the tribes surrounding Mongke Bulag had dispersed, word reached the east, south, and west. Now, the Oirat tribes were more active near the borders than ever before. She worried this meant war. Nearly three months had passed since Manduul’s funeral and Unebolod’s return to Mongke Bulag, which gave the Oirat time to prepare for invasion. They had coveted the title of Great Khan for centuries, and men like Esen had attempted stealing it. Mandukhai knew how that had ended. In revolt and death. Her father had led that revolt. She wanted a more peaceful transition.

Mandukhai had hoped for better support from the Lords regarding her new title of Queen Regent than she had received. Her grasp on the nation slipped little by little each day. Though the Mongol Lords respected her position as was proper, they had made themselves clear. She was not their leader, but a placeholder until they selected the next Great Khan. Many of them preferred Unebolod. I prefer him as well, she thought.

She and Unebolod had agreed that it was best for her to observe a period of mourning before she would officially accept any offers of marriage—a marriage which would give the man who wed her the strongest claim on the title of Great Khan. Mandukhai appreciated Unebolod’s patience, but she knew it would only go so far. He didn’t just want her. He wanted the title.

In her vision with Genghis five years ago, he cut Esen’s hanging body from a tree and accused him of pretending to be a wolf. Some part of Mandukhai worried that the same fate awaited Unebolod if he took the title before she knew for certain what Batu’s fate would be. There could be no doubt for Unebolod to be Great Khan. There could be no heir of Genghis remaining. Only then could Unebolod’s path be clear.

Though they flirted with the idea of her officially proclaiming him, she had been careful to avoid the reality of this claim. He could assert himself and try taking the title, citing Manduul naming him next should there be no heirs of Genghis, yet he had not. Not yet.

And there was another heir. Mandukhai sent her Uyghur spy to hunt down the abandoned child months ago. Today, her spy returned to give the full report, but she was certain of one thing.

Batu lived.

The line of Genghis had not died with Manduul and Bayan. If Mandukhai handled this properly, no one would know who Batu was until he came of age.

Unebolod and I can marry, raise Batu, and when the time comes, and he is old enough, we can install him as the next Great Khan. Mandukhai rubbed her hands together, nodding to herself. It would work. It had to. Genghis had told her only he of his bone would have the strength to hold the fractured empire together. Surely that must have meant Batu. I will tell Unebolod the truth once I am certain Batu will survive.

She feared for the boy’s life. For her plan to work, no one else could know who he truly was. Any man of ambition could kill Bayan’s young son to eliminate the boy’s rightful claim.

No one in Mongke Bulag doubted Unebolod’s ambition. He had set up his ger where Manduul’s had stood, a clear signal of his intention. Some nights, the proximity proved a true test of willpower. Mandukhai wanted to go to him.

She paused in her pacing and closed her eyes, hugging her arms against her chest. I miss having his arms around me. She wanted to give herself to him as she had years ago—so long ago! However, it would be improper for her to sleep with him until they made their marriage official, and she would not risk any breach of etiquette that might stir anyone’s doubt. Unebolod agreed it would be best to wait, but she sensed his tension just as surely as her own whenever they were close to each other.

Today, Unebolod would spend the day with their meager army, training the men for a battle he was certain loomed on the horizon—and perhaps he even looked forward to. The Oirat tribes could attack any day. The tribes were much larger than the meager forces she held together with fish glue and prayers. If the Oirat attacked, they could easily win and steal the khanship. Genghis, if this is part of your plan, please guide me!

Genghis had not come to her in another vision. Were it not for her faith in the High Heavens, Mandukhai might have doubted the truth of the promise Genghis made her. That she would birth a pack of wolves to restore the fractured empire.

The door to the gathering tent groaned open. Mandukhai’s eyes snapped open, and she turned, relaxing her features in what she hoped was a calm, collected manner. Seguse strode in, unarmed, and stopped in front of the dais. He bowed his head and waited patiently for Mandukhai to speak first.

“I hope you have good news to report, Seguse,” Mandukhai said, settling back into her throne atop the dais.

Seguse stood and folded his hands behind his back. “That depends on how you define good, Queen Regent.” His weathered face pinched tight. “The boy lives, but barely. He is in the care of one of my fellow Uyghur and his wife.”

Mandukhai’s stomach churned. She trusted Seguse, who had spied for Borogchin for years. But Uyghur often had prickly loyalties. “Can we trust him?”

Seguse fell silent as he considered this. “I trust him. He doesn’t really know who the boy is. Khadag informed me he came across the boy just before Issama’s men arrived with orders to capture or kill.”

“Did Issama know the boy’s parentage?” Mandukhai asked. Issama was now married to the boy’s mother. That gave Issama a stronger claim on Batu’s life.

“No. Batu lived with an old woman named Bachari, but he was horribly neglected, sickly, and crippled. Issama ordered the ger burned, the old woman killed, and the boy brought to him. It was little more than a means of acquiring her few animals to feed his men.”

Mandukhai’s nails bit into her palms. “But Issama had no idea?”

“No, Queen Regent. By some stroke of fortune, he did not know at all. Khadag took pity on the boy and smuggled Batu off to his wife, Saichai. She is a gifted healer.”

Mandukhai uncurled her fingers and stretched her palm over the carved arms of the chair. Issama had nearly taken the boy. He still could if he ever learned the truth.

“Where is Batu now?” she asked.

“About a hundred miles north of Hami, near the Dragon’s Spine of the Gobi,” Seguse replied. “I saw Batu with my own eyes. He is not well, Queen Regent—far too ill to make the journey north before spring. He suffers from a sickness of the stomach and …” Seguse’s nose curled ever so slightly in a clear disgust he tried to hide but failed miserably at. “And he has a hunchback-like growth. Saichai said he should have died long ago, and that he’s been horribly neglected. She is doing everything she can to heal him. I did not tell them who Batu is, but I expressed your keen interest in his wellbeing. I presume it’s safe to assume you will pay them handsomely for their time and financial burden.”

Mandukhai nodded. She would pay them in bags of fine silver if it healed Batu and kept him safe.

“I told them as much and pressed the importance of keeping Batu a secret from others,” Seguse said. “I reassured Saichai that you would reward her for his safety and healing, but only if he survived and arrived safely in your care this spring. As soon as he is well enough to travel, they will bring him to you.”

“You have done well, Seguse,” Mandukhai replied. “And as much as I wish I could send you back to ensure Batu’s safety, I cannot.”

“I am satisfied settling in Mongke Bulag for a time.”

“If only. But it is time for you to leave Mongke Bulag.”

He drew up to a stiff spine. “Queen Regent?”

“Lord Unebolod has no trust for any man of Uyghur blood,” Mandukhai said calmly. “And you are one of the few remaining. However, I do not send you away without purpose. My scouts tell me that the Oirat are moving, possibly against our camp.” She refused to call Mongke Bulag a capital any longer. It gave too much permanence to their position and soon they would move on to better pastures. “As a Uyghur, you can infiltrate their position and learn more of their intentions. I cannot have the Oirat kicking up a dust cloud before we have a new Great Khan.” When Seguse did not respond, Mandukhai offered a kind smile. “I am promoting you, Seguse, to jagan officer. Gather a hundred men capable of carrying out this task with you—Uyghur men, if possible, and men who would be credible as defectors if not Uyghur—and ride west.”

Seguse struggled with his smile, but it curled the corner of his lips all the same. “It will be as you command, Queen Regent.”

“Do not attack the Oirat, Seguse,” she warned. “Your job is to make them believe you have defected to their side. Join them. Serve me well in this, and you will be further rewarded.”

Seguse formally thanked Mandukhai and waited for dismissal before leaving her alone once more. She sat back and smiled to herself. Soon, she would have information from deep in Oirat circles to advise her actions further.

Weary, Mandukhai rose and stretched her limbs, then rolled her shoulders. She needed fresh air to fuel her sluggish mind, and so she headed out of the gathering tent.

Mongke Bulag had become a ghost of its former self. Aside from the Borjigin, other tribes had drifted away, no longer tethered to a Great Khan. Only Togochi’s Khorlod remained—numbering fewer than ten thousand—and Unebolod’s Khorchin dominated the space. Unebolod’s presence in Mongke Bulag dwarfed her own. Mandukhai knew that only his love and respect for her kept him from simply seizing control, and she adored him for it all the more.

As she approached her own ger, Mandukhai spotted Unebolod checking the saddle on his mare, tightening the girth strap, and adjusting the blanket. The mare bobbed her head and stomped as Mandukhai approached, which made the leather armor on the mount’s chest creak.

Unebolod turned from his task. “I heard you did not rest well again last night,” he said.

Mandukhai grimaced. Esige certainly had no trouble sharing anything that was not strictly a secret with him. The girl had so much respect for Unebolod—almost as a daughter would her father. “I am rested as well as I need to be. How is the training going with your men?”

She stopped close enough to feel the heat rolling off his body. As he gazed down at her, he subtly reached for her hand, brushing his fingers over her own and sending a jolt through her body. Such a simple touch. Such an intense response.

Mandukhai’s guards lingered nearby, always watching, and she was certain they saw the way Unebolod touched her hand. Yet she did not care. Their job was to guard her, and Unebolod, as they well knew, was no threat. Boke had made a threatening move toward Unebolod shortly after his return to Mongke Bulag, but Mandukhai had dressed Boke down so swiftly and certainly that none of her guards had dared question Unebolod’s presence around her again.

“Soke still has the men in the field,” he said.

“All of them?”

Unebolod raised a brow at the question but did not answer directly. “Are you aware that Esige has been wrestling my men?”

Mandukhai smothered a smirk. “No. But I imagine she has done well.”

Unebolod grimaced. “She has beaten all of them. My men are complaining. It’s demoralizing.”

“She learned from you,” Mandukhai teased, her eyes shining up at him.

He inched closer. “No. I think she gets this stubborn will from you.”

“Then I have taught her well.”

The tension between the two of them hung in the air like a tangible thing. She wanted to kiss him, or for him to kiss her first. It didn’t matter as long as his body pressed against her own. Mandukhai’s heart raced. Her stomach tumbled.

Unebolod’s throat bobbed, and he stepped back toward his mare. “I should get back out into the field with the men.” His fingers reluctantly slid free of hers.

Mandukhai licked her lips. Had the air grown thicker? She watched, breathless, as he swung into the saddle and rode away.

Sensing someone watching her, Mandukhai glanced around.

Odgerel lingered in the doorway of Unebolod’s ger. The young woman had arrived in Mongke Bulag with the Khorchin shortly after Unebolod returned. Though he insisted Odgerel only served as his cook, the young woman acted as if she were his wife in so many ways. Too many ways.

The moment Mandukhai met her gaze, Odgerel dropped her own to the ground and bowed only slightly as a show of respect. But the girl clearly did not respect her.

Odgerel was a pretty young woman, and Mandukhai often caught her staring at Unebolod with obvious admiration and desire in her eyes. She had wormed her way into his service during his time away from Mongke Bulag, and though she had not once spoken ill of the Queen Regent, Mandukhai often felt the woman staring at her with sharpened daggers for eyes. Today was no exception.

Mandukhai straightened her back and chin, then strolled back to her own ger. She would not give this girl the satisfaction of knowing how her presence unnerved her. When Mandukhai and Unebolod finally married, Mandukhai would be sure Odgerel knew her place—or she would be replaced. Mandukhai would not allow a moon-eyed girl to get between her and her future husband. I need to learn more about this woman, Mandukhai thought as she entered her home.

Esige bounded toward Mandukhai’s ger, her skin warm and flushed with excitement from several bouts of wrestling. At first, the younger men close to her own age had accepted Esige’s wrestling challenges, assuming she would lose. How men couldn’t learn from their mistakes, Esige would never understand. Some of those men she had been wrestling since they were boys. And they never win, she thought as she ducked through the doorway.

The grin on Esige’s face stretched so far across her face she could feel the tension in her cheeks and jaw. Today had been different. Kudang, one of the mingghan commanders, had challenged her, insisting that if he won, she would speak to Mandukhai about marriage. She, of course, accepted. Kudang had tried so hard, using the skirt of her deel to try and drag her down, only for her to sweep his feet out from under him. He had grabbed her thick braids to bring her close enough to capture her in a neck hold that would have rendered her useless and defeated. Esige had predicted his move, and as he pulled her braids to draw her closer, she punched under his arms, then broke his hold and turned it against him. Only seconds later, he was pinned, face-down, in the dirt with her kneeling on his back.

“They call themselves men,” Esige said as she drifted toward the bucket to wash off her hands and face. The tone in her voice made it clear she did not agree with their assessment of themselves.

“Perhaps it’s time you let some of them win,” Mandukhai mused as she stoked the stove.

Esige snorted. Right. Like that would ever happen. “They will never learn that way.”

“Nor will you.” Mandukhai’s tone was sharper than normal, and disapproval burned in her dark eyes.

Esige stiffened, swiping her damp hands against her clothes. Why was Mandukhai angry with her? “What do I have to learn?”

“That men need to believe they are strong and capable if they are to survive in battle,” Mandukhai said with that patient tone that often sounded condescending when she lectured Esige. “Yet your behavior—your constant victory over them—is demoralizing. If they cannot beat a girl, how can they possibly defeat an enemy?”

Esige set her shoulders, cocking her head ever so slightly to the side. “I thought you wanted me to be strong, like Khutulun. I cannot do that if the men don’t respect me.”

“There is a difference between respect and superiority, Esige.”

“Superiority! Shall I offer you a salve for the lip service?” As soon as the words slipped out, Esige wished she could take them back. Especially upon noting the way Mandukhai clenched her hands into fists at her side. I said too much!

“I am Queen Regent. It is not the same thing!”

Mandukhai was right, as she often proved to be. On one hand, Esige found it hypocritical that Mandukhai would insist Esige let the men believe they were stronger when Mandukhai herself held more power than any of them. On the other hand, Esige knew that Mandukhai’s future—as well as Esige’s own—rested on Mandukhai’s ability to hold on to that power. Without it, the two of them would be forced into the beds of any Mongol Lords strong enough to overpower them. All the more reason for me to prove how strong I am now, she thought.

Despite how she might agree with Mandukhai and regret her words, Esige would never admit it to anyone. Instead, she shrugged as if it didn’t matter, then moved toward the butcher block to prepare dinner as if she did not notice Mandukhai’s anger.

Behind her back, Esige could hear Mandukhai taking calming breaths. A moment later, Mandukhai joined her, and the two worked in silent tandem as they prepared dinner.

They set the buuz—meat-stuffed dumplings—aside to be steamed.

“I would appreciate a bit more respect,” Mandukhai whispered.

“How much more respect do you want? I have given you all I have to offer.” Esige cleaned the powder from her hands, wiping it on her already dirty deel. “What is really bothering you, Mother?”

Mandukhai’s shoulder sagged slightly. Esige had always seen through Mandukhai’s words, and Mandukhai often allowed Esige to speak freely, which made this entire conversation a bit startling.

“Unebolod said something about the men complaining,” Mandukhai offered. “I’m simply delivering his message.”

Esige slumped. “He said that?” She couldn’t hide her disappointment. Unebolod was the one who taught her everything she knew about fighting. Now he wanted her to stop? Because I am a girl and the men can’t handle losing to a girl. It’s absurd. Strength is strength no matter where it comes from. But if the men wanted her to fit into their little boxes, she would oblige them until it drove every one of them mad.

“Then I shall become the simpering princess the men need me to be.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm. “For the sake of their own egos, I will sacrifice my own on the altar of their shame.”

Mandukhai smothered a smirk. “There’s a good girl.”

Esige rolled her eyes, but inside, Mandukhai’s reaction warmed Esige’s heart.

Nemeku bounded through the door, giggling up a storm as Mandukhai and Esige stepped back out of his way. Though he was only five, Esige’s nephew showed proficiency with bows and riding. Esige adored Nemeku, but sometimes just looking at him reminded her of her sister, murdered by her own husband. I will see Bigirsen die for it one day, Esige vowed silently.

“Esige! Esige!” Nemeku danced around her legs like an excited dog. “I taught Torudur to hold a bow today!”

Torudur was Togochi’s oldest son, and not yet three years old. Esige was surprised Togochi had not taught his son already.

Mandukhai gaped. “Torudur, Togochi’s son? He’s barely three. What did Lady Jaghan say?”

Tuya trailed in the door, appearing winded and quite harried, as if she had chased Nemeku all across the capital.

Nemeku scrunched up his face as only an innocent child without a care could do. “She was busy fussing over the baby. I’m going to teach Torudur how to ride next!” The boy’s face lit up with certainty and pride.

Babaqai was Togochi’s youngest son, almost a year and a half old now, and walking well enough to cause Jaghan trouble.

Mandukhai watched Nemeku, and Esige understood reason for Mandukhai’s furrowed brow. Nemeku resembled his father, with his long, narrow face, and a nose that seemed larger each time they looked at it.

They settled into dinner with Nemeku telling grand stories of how he could ride when he was only three, and how Torudur had thought the bow was a funny thing. The boy had dominated the conversation, but as they finished, the food in his stomach slowed him down and Esige noticed how heavy his eyelids had become.

“Tuya, will you please get Nemeku tucked in for the evening? Esige and I will handle this.” Mandukhai motioned toward the table.

Tuya bowed, ushering a protesting Nemeku out of the ger. He shared Esige’s ger with her. Usually, it was Esige’s job to see Nemeku off to bed. Which could only mean one thing.

Esige placed a hand on her hip. “You only send her to do my tasks when you need something else from me.”

Mandukhai nodded. “I do. I need you to learn as much as you can about Odgerel.”

Odgerel. Unebolod’s ridiculously pretty servant. Esige chortled. “Is that green I see on your face?”

Though Mandukhai had not said as much, Esige could tell that her Mother had feelings for Unebolod. She had for a long time, though she thought she hid them well. For Esige, seeing Unebolod and Mandukhai together would be a best-case scenario—like her long-separated parents finally coming together.

Mandukhai scooped up a few of the dishes. “I am not jealous.”

Sure you aren’t.

“What is there to be jealous of?” Mandukhai asked with an innocence that was clearly forced. “But taking on a servant like her seems out of character for him. I want to know what happened and who she is.”

“So the rumors are true,” Esige said as she joined Mandukhai in clearing the table. “You intend to accept his bid. You never wanted him to marry my sister, did you?”

Mandukhai nearly dropped her dishes, poorly fumbling to recover. “I absolutely did. But it has been years, Esige, and a lot has changed since she left.”

Esige wanted to believe Mandukhai, that she truly wanted to see Borogchin married to Unebolod. She had no reason not to believe her. Except for the rumors that Mandukhai and Unebolod had secretly been amorous all along. So much from those days made little sense to Esige anymore.

“Changed,” Esige said flatly. Her dinner churned in her stomach. “You mean like her husband murdering her?” Esige spit the words out like a foul taste.

Mandukhai tensed, watching Esige from the corner of her eyes. What was she thinking?

“I have not agreed to accept any man yet,” Mandukhai said. “But at this moment, Unebolod has the strongest claim, and is certainly the most popular among many of the Mongol Lords. I just want to be sure he does not have a spy in his midst.”

Esige frowned, not convinced, but she nodded. “I will ask around. But you should talk to Boke, too.”

Mandukhai’s brows shot up her forehead sharply. “Why him?”

Esige rolled her eyes. She had always given Mandukhai credit for being incredibly intelligent and observant, but sometimes she missed things that should be so obvious.

“Because he has been staring at her since the moment she arrived in Mongke Bulag,” Esige said, gazing curiously at Mandukhai. “You really haven’t noticed?”

Mandukhai perked up ever so slightly. “Does Odgerel return his interest?”

Esige pursed her lips in thought. The few times she had watched Odgerel, the woman never once glanced at Boke—and certainly not while Unebolod was around. Of course all the women love Unebolod. He’s amazing. She shook her head. “I don’t believe so.”

Mandukhai’s shoulders drooped a little. No doubt it would have been a relief if Odgerel had been interested in Boke. Instead, Mandukhai had noticed what Esige had.

Odgerel had eyes set on Unebolod, and if the woman’s family status was right, she could make a move and attempt stealing Unebolod away from Mandukhai.

If this brings Mandukhai and Unebolod together, I will hunt down everything I possibly can about Odgerel, Esige decided. But her instincts warned her to be careful.