The Tiger-Headed Horseman Page 10

  After that first week he knew he had to pay his mother a visit. Winning her support might not be so straightforward given their recent parting and cross words. Still, he would offer her a lump of his newly mined resource – everybody seemed to love that. Surely she would be no different.

  ‘You can take that bloody lump of metal and shove it somewhere jolly horrid!’ shouted Mrs Khaan. She threw the object at her son. ‘Don't you come round here trying to recommend things to me, young man. I know the rules and you're breaking just about every one of them.’

  ‘But, Mum,’ said Tengis, ‘I am trying to make things better. I am trying to get rid of the Khadists and reinstate the memory of Chinggis. I thought that was what you always wanted?’

  ‘Don't you try and pin this one on me,’ said Mrs Khaan. ‘I love my Chinggis, I do, but I also know that it's them Khadists that runs things here. All this Chinggis worship will not end well, mark my words!’

  ‘Mother,’ said Tengis, ‘you have just about every item of Chinggis memorabilia that's available; I thought you would be happy that I am spreading the word, encouraging everyone to share in the glory of Chinggis?’

  ‘He's my Chinggis,’ said Mrs Khaan. ‘You and your lot keep your grubby little hands off him, will you, he's mine! I love him more than anyone else. I have loved him longer than anyone else. You lot clear off and go and find your own Chinggis. This one's mine.’ And with that she slammed the front door in her son's face.

  The meeting with his mother had not gone quite as well as Tengis had hoped it would. It did make Tengis feel less guilty for having been a little bit horrible to his mother, though. Despite having changed from being a weirdo school kid into a political activist cum would-be emperor Tengis had still felt a little bit bad for having walked out on his mother. She was the only one he had.

  He walked away from his childhood home towards the centre of town. He needed to pay a visit to the only other person he had ever really truly cared for. Unfortunately, he had also been unduly nasty to that person in the past fortnight, too. He hoped that his meeting with Odval would work out more amicably than that with his mother.

  As he wandered through the streets towards the home of Odval's parents, Tengis noticed some peculiar things. Before Tengis had left for the Steppe, in fact for as long as Tengis could remember, the people of Baatarulaan had been proudly lazy and profoundly antisocial. Few if any of the city's population would move if they could possibly avoid doing so; even fewer would actively participate in conversation with someone they didn't know. Now he noticed that there were people walking with purpose through the streets. There were people talking in groups, people chatting on street corners, people speaking in shops and people conversing in cafés. Furthermore, they didn't appear to be discussing where to score the best Khem or whom they should rob to pay for the next beetle drive. They seemed to be talking about the Ten Recommendations, the desire for change; a wish to see an end to the strict Khadist regime that had repressed them for so long. Tengis smiled. His movement was gaining momentum more quickly than he could have hoped for and more quickly than he could ever have warranted. He could not believe just how malleable people seemed to be. It was a valuable lesson.

  Odval lived with her parents and brother in the smartest district of Baatarulaan. Theirs was a home other citizens of Ongolium could only ever aspire to. It had four walls and a roof that didn't leak. Each member of the family had their own room and the family shared two bathrooms. The house also had a front door that locked and a fireplace. There were not many in Baatarulaan who could boast of such things. Only the very wealthiest and most powerful families had homes such as this and Odval's was among the finest. Their home had luxuries that weren't found anywhere else in Ongolium. It had a toilet that flushed, taps with clean running water, and, luxury of luxuries, central heating; only top Khadist bureaucrats had central heating. Tengis and his mother had shared a two-room apartment all his life. They shared a small bedroom. A larger room served for cooking, eating and living. Their bathroom privacy comprised a makeshift curtain held up by washing pegs. The bathroom! There was no bath to speak of. Like most people in Baatarulaan, Tengis and his mother washed in the river. The river was frozen solid six months of the year.

  Although Tengis had visited Odval's home many times, he was nervous. He and Odval had been sincere soulmates since childhood but the revelation concerning his destiny had all but blown that friendship apart. He was here to see if he could rescue their friendship in any way. He also needed someone to talk to. He needed somebody to share things with. His first week in Baatarulaan as Tengis the Politician had been more than a little eventful. He needed Odval back in his life. He just wasn't sure whether she would want him. He knocked loudly on the door and stood back, his hands clasped behind his back fidgeting madly.

  Tengis could hear the door being unlocked from within. It opened. A tall dark-haired man with an enormously wide and bushy moustache answered the door. It was Odval's father. Odval's father liked Tengis. If he could ever have allowed himself to entertain the notion of his daughter being married, it would have been to Tengis. He respected Tengis's intellect and self-belief. Odval's father was also a man of politics. With Tengis's newly acquired political capital he was more than welcomed into his home.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Enkh,’ said Tengis.

  ‘And a good afternoon to you, young Master Khaan,’ said Mr Enkh. ‘We have been a busy chap, haven't we? I am most impressed by your words on reform. Although a devout Khadist, I recognise when change is required and you seem to be a man who has the ideas, belief, direction and energy to enable such a change. And what is that marvellous yellowybrowny-orange shining material everybody keeps talking about? Not that I'm interested in it. Your words are clearly far more important. Do you have any of it with you? Can I see it? Where did you get it? Is there more? Can I have some?’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ said Odval briskly. Despite the harshness of her tone, Tengis was glad to see her and equally pleased to avoid Mr Enkh's oddly insistent line of questioning. He had always thought of Mr Enkh as a principled man; this metal he had mined seemed to have a strange effect on even the soundest of minds.

  ‘I came to see you,’ said Tengis. ‘I wanted to know if you could forgive my leaving you the way I did.’

  ‘Is that meant to be an apology?’ asked Odval.

  Her father knew it was safer to retreat to the safety of his library than come between his irate daughter and her prey.

  ‘If it is then you can . . .’

  ‘I am not here to fight,’ said Tengis. ‘I am also not here to apologise for anything I said about my beliefs but I am sorry about the way I spoke to you. You deserve more than that, especially from me.’

  Tengis moved towards Odval and tried to take her hand. Although only a short time had passed since they had last met, Tengis felt as though he had grown and matured far beyond his years. Upon seeing Odval, he knew that he no longer merely wanted her friendship. She was more, far more. He looked beyond her curt glare. He could only see the beauty in her eyes, her smooth face, her glistening dark hair, her perfectly formed figure. A sudden sense of longing filled him; he needed to hold her close to him but was too afraid to move closer – afraid that, if he held her, he would never be able to let go. His breathing became deeper, his self-control vanished.

  ‘Why are you staring at me like that?’ asked Odval. ‘And why is your mouth hanging open? Do you have any idea how stupid you look? And what's all this silliness about Chinggis? It's one thing to dream about an emperor; it's another to use his name as a means of communicating your ideologies, and quite another altogether to believe that you are an emperor. I assume you still think that you are an emperor?’

  ‘I do,’ said Tengis enthusiastically. He was daydreaming and utterly oblivious to what Odval was saying.

  ‘If you persist with this line of thought,’ said Odval, ‘then I absolutely insist that, if we are to be friends, only friends mind you, that you pay a visi
t to Doctor Todd the Mind Minister. I've done some thinking about what you said. I have never had reason to doubt you in all the time we have known each other, but your outburst at school was frightening. If I agree to be friends with you, will you promise to make an appointment with Doctor Todd?’

  Tengis said nothing but closed his eyes, puckered his lips and moved closer to Odval. He was still very deeply enjoying his daydream. Not quite knowing what to do, Odval stuck her fore-finger between his lips and wiggled it around a bit. It felt odd but it also had the desired effect of waking Tengis back into the present.

  ‘Absolutely barking!’ said Odval. She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. They both blushed.

  ‘Friends?’ asked Tengis.

  ‘Friends,’ confirmed Odval.

  She cuddled Tengis. Tengis laid his head on her shoulder. She was warm and he thought she smelled good. Everything had worked out just as he had wanted.

  13

  ‘I can make a decision,’ mumbled Lily.

  Only her horse Lucky could hear her. They had been riding across the Steppe towards Baatarulaan for two days and hadn't seen a single person. If you were all alone, the Steppe could make you feel even more so. However, it had given Lily ample time to think about what her spirit guide had been telling her.

  ‘Silly horse, why can't you talk?’

  Lily still had so many unresolved questions. She hoped that going to the city would help answer them. It was the first time Lily would have been to Baatarulaan and, although she thought of herself as braver than any of the herders she lived with, the idea of being in a place crammed with so many people intimidated her. Still, her father had been going there since he had been young. Unfortunately, her father had been imprisoned on his last scavenging outing. Lily hoped that, as well as addressing her questions, she might be able to find her father and help him return to the herders. He was after all their rightful leader; she had only ever agreed to take the role on a temporary basis.

  Lily and Lucky continued plodding across the vast open arid plain. Snow began to fall. In Ongolium, snowfall was light. There was lots of it but, because of the dryness, snowflakes were tiny. They rarely had an opportunity to lie on the ground before they evaporated back into the atmosphere. Today the environment was allowing a sparkling carpet to be formed. It crunched quietly under Lucky's hooves. His dark shoes glided gracefully across the glittering ground.

  Riding around a rocky outcrop. Lily could see that the horizon had changed. Lucky let out a loud snort of disapproval. All her life Lily had only ever seen the Steppe on the horizon. She was now presented with what looked like man-made mountains; each was uniformly perpendicular. Instead of wide opening valleys and space there was barely a gap between the mountains. It seemed as though cliffs fell away sharply from each mountain before rising up into the next. The vision occupied the central part of the Steppe lying in front of her. Either side it stopped suddenly. Its centre was its peak, the mountains there rising higher than the rest. Above the artificial mountain range there hung a thick, dull-looking cloud. It was unlike any cloud she had seen before. It was far lower than she would normally expect to see clouds, and seemingly made of a different texture, although from this distance it was hard to tell. What puzzled her most was why the cloud seemed to be attached to the man-made mountains at various points where what looked like rocky towers rose into the sky. But Lily was not afraid. Her first sight of Baatarulaan had filled her, rather, with a sense of wonder and adventure. She spurred on Lucky, who very reluctantly moved a little faster, but not much.

  As Lily neared the entrance to Baatarulaan she was able to better absorb what she was seeing. There were no mountains. She could see wooden and metallic structures that looked as though they were filled with people. In her experience people lived in small gers. Here she found herself confronted by buildings up to six storeys high. The drab grey stone structures were packed full of people. Every window had a dank light on the inside showcasing at least one, but more often two or more, citizens sitting blankly in their homes. The tracks between buildings were equally busy. People walked here and there purposefully, their hands shoved deep into their pockets; few, if any, took notice of other people around them. They walked fast and bumped into one another grumpily. On corners, small groups of people stood warming their hands against the cold over barrels filled with flame. The more Lily examined the city the less she was able to find any soul.

  Anxiously Lucky strode deeper into Baatarulaan. It was not noisy but there was an eternal din that rang through Lily and her steed's minds. They were used to the contemplative silence of the Steppe. In Baatarulaan, the hubbub of chatter, movement and general day-to-day doings of the city's one million inhabitants were enough to generate a din that forbade peacefulness. Lucky snorted deeply and then sneezed violently. Lily patted his neck fondly. She was feeling the same way.

  The city had a stench that was both unfamiliar and repugnant. It was the smell of a million lives spent living too closely together in unsanitary conditions. Lily's ger camp had occasionally stunk of horse or camel dung, but Baatarulaan took things to a completely different level. Lily could tell that the sides of the well-worn tracks were to be avoided at all cost. For many decades the townsfolk had used the gutters as a dumping ground for their more odious household refuse. In turn, the city leaders had long felt it was better not to do anything about the reeking remnants. In their opinion, they were so toxic that given time they would rot themselves away. It was their attempt at embracing environmentalism and they made much of it in the media.

  Lily dismounted and, patting Lucky's head, tied some dried herbs to his reins. He showed an immediate improvement. Walking slowly, she led him on, her eyes wide in wonder.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Lily. She tried to grab the attention of a passer-by. The first man ignored her. ‘Excuse me,’ she said again. The second man cast her a look of contempt before walking away. ‘Please, excuse me,’ said Lily to a lady carrying shopping bags filled with newspaper and empty canisters. The lady grunted and pushed past her. ‘These people are so rude!’ exclaimed Lily to her horse.

  As Lily examined them, she noted that the menfolk of Baatarulaan were far more stocky and rounded than those she had grown up with on the Steppe. They had gruff faces that Lily feared shielded an even more gruff temperament within. Most of them dressed in the same long traditional del robes made of felt worn in the countryside, although the urban versions were more ornately decorated. On their feet the men wore thick leather boots that were designed for warmth not looks. In contrast, the women of Baatarulaan were beautiful. Several inches taller than the women who lived in the herder communities, the city ladies proudly wore what Lily presumed to be the latest fashions. They were far slimmer and carried a less pronounced bosom than their countryside cousins and their facial bone structures seemed designed entirely to give aesthetic pleasure.

  ‘Hey you,’ said a voice. ‘Hey you, young woman. You new here?’ A grubby-looking man walked out of nearby shadows towards them. Both horse and rider backed away. ‘You new here? Where you from? You're not from round here, are you?’

  ‘Hello, sir,’ said Lily, ‘we have just arrived. We . . . we . . . we are from a different part.’ Lily didn't want to disclose that she was a herder. Her father had warned her that Baatarulaan's residents were highly suspect of anyone from outside the city limits and the city's rulers would immediately imprison anyone of that variety. Lily had presumed this was why her father had not returned to their camp.

  ‘Which part?’ said the man. ‘District 4? District 11? Possibly District 13?’

  ‘District 8,’ said Lily. Eight was her favourite number.

  ‘Oh,’ said the man, ‘that'll be why you have the horse. How are the crops this year? We gonna get any food? What about this, can I buy your horse; it sure looks tasty?’

  The concept of eating horsemeat – let alone Lucky – filled Lily with horror.

  ‘My name is Lily,’ said Lily. ‘I am in this area on bu
siness.’ Lily didn't really know what business was but knew that people who wanted to sound important tended to say they were on business regardless of what it was they were doing. ‘Important business,’ added Lily for effect.

  ‘Wow!’ said the man. He whistled theatrically. ‘Why didn't you say?’ He made an exaggerated bow in her direction and doffed his filthy cap. ‘My name is Drudger. It be a pleasure to be meeting you. I am at your disposal.’

  Lily prayed she would be able to dispose of him soon. On the other hand she needed help finding lodgings and some place to stable Lucky. She figured there was little harm in asking Drudger for assistance; he seemed an all right kind of person and had been the only one to stop and talk to her.

  ‘No problem,’ said Drudger. ‘I know a lovely little guesthouse, perfect for a lady of your standing. They've got a stable, too, from memory, though it probably ain't seen no horse in our lifetime. You don't get many horses round here, not live ones at any rate. Anyways, follow me.’ Drudger shot off, walking fast along some of the darker, narrower tracks that weaved their way between the oppressive buildings.

  Lily followed hastily with Lucky in tow. She only just managed to keep up with Drudger as he wove left and right around corners that made Lily dizzy. An hour previously Lily had never been on a street. She was now finding herself chasing a stranger, turning tight corners in semi-darkness along busy streets in the middle of a noisy, smelly city while trying desperately to give off the impression that she knew what she was about. In a matter of minutes she was completely lost. Her only option was to keep Drudger in her sights and follow him wherever it was he was leading her. This was not an altogether appealing option but at that particular moment it was the only one she had.