Page 87 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

Narangerel smiled. “As do I.”

Both Dagar and Batbayar accompanied her to the khan’s tent. Her mind whirled with what she could offer, not only the Erseg tribe, but the Tungat and Adhan as well. And if she could reach peace with them, could she reach out to the furthest tribes and also negotiate peace there?

She entered the tent and froze. With the exception of an older woman sitting next to Ogodai, the rest of the people around the table were men, all of them armed. They turned to her and their conversation fell silent. On the other side of Ogodai sat a man with a circle tattoo under his right eye, the spiritual advisor.

Nerves tickled her skin, but she relaxed her shoulders and bowed her head slightly. “Thank you for your time, Ogodai Khan.”

He grunted and gestured for her to sit at the opposite end of the table. His sons sat on either side of her. Having Dagar next to her was a comfort. He might stop any rash actions from the suspicious elders. She must choose her words carefully, so as not to offend them. Half the men glared at her as if she was goat dung, though a couple gazed at her as if she was simply an oddity.

The spiritual advisor spoke. “You gathered your dead?”

“Yes, thank you for your permission, Khan. I sent Jambal’s wife and daughter home with the wagon, and our spiritual advisor will ensure they are properly buried.”

“You say you buried our fallen,” the man continued.

“That’s right. Erhi said the rites over them and we sent them on their way. I can show you where they are buried if they have family who wish to visit them.”

“Why?” one man demanded.

She frowned. “Why show you?”

“Why bury them? We attacked you.”

“You did, but these men were following the khan’s orders. I always hoped our men who died while fighting were given the same respect.”

A couple of men glanced at each other but said nothing. She recognised the squinty-eyed one as the man who had had his pants down when she’d rescued Yesugen and Tegusken.

“Thank you,” the spiritual advisor said. “I would like to visit their burial place.”

“You are welcome to return with me when I go,” Shuree said.

Ogodai raised an eyebrow. “Who said you were going?”

She swallowed but kept her expression calm. “I am sure we can come up with an arrangement.”

The understanding in the older woman’s eyes reminded Shuree of her grandmother. “I am sure you are right. My son is a reasonable man.” Ogodai glared at her, but she paid him no notice. It appeared it wasn’t just Narangerel who was tired of the fighting. Shuree relaxed further.

“Would it help if I tell you what Saltar wants?” she asked. “You can decide whether you want the same.”

Ogodai gestured for her to go ahead.

“We want peace,” she said. “I want my tribe to live without fear of attack and for them to prosper. I want to have good, healthy relationships with our neighbouring tribes, and reach the stage where we willingly share information and skills so we can all grow and prosper together.”

One man coughed. “Impossible.”

“Why?” she demanded. “It will take trust, but if we all agree to it, then we can achieve it.” Men murmured to their neighbours. She was losing them. She needed to speak about concrete actions. “You want our harvest and we could do with stronger horses. We can trade, rather than fight for them.”

One man nodded.

“What about your women?” the squinty-eyed man spoke up.

She stiffened. “Our women are not commodities to be traded,” she said. “I will never allow them to be forced.” She stared at him, and he looked away first. Exhaling, she turned her attention to Ogodai. “However, I can see the benefit of marriage between our tribes. I propose a yearly summer gathering. We can invite all tribes and we can mingle, hold competitions and get to know each other. If you can win the heart of one of our women, then marriage can be discussed.”

“A gathering won’t work,” Ogodai said. “All it would take is one wrong word and fighting would ensue.”

He was right. Sometimes it was difficult to stop fights amongst the young men in a single tribe. “Then we set rules,” Shuree said. “No weapons at the gathering place. If fights occur, they will be with fists not blades which will reduce the chance of death.”

“What kind of competitions do you speak of?” Ogodai’s mother asked.

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