The Tiger-Headed Horseman Page 4

Led by her friend, Lily's skill as a shaman became ever sharper. As her skill became sharper, she was able to help her group more readily. As she was able to help her group more readily, she was accepted more willingly. By the time her father gave her a twenty-second animal to add to her menagerie Lily was a thoroughbred shaman. She even had a cloak, knobbly stick and small drum. That's how serious a shaman she was. It was as a serious shaman that her group accepted her as interim leader. Without her cloak and stick they would have been forced to draw lots.

  Lily had no qualms about accepting the call to be leader. From her sideline position in the ger she had spent many winters watching her father preside intelligently over group meetings. She had learned from him the resources necessary to maintain the health and well-being of the group. Watching him on the Steppe she had learned how to walk with aplomb and act with honourable authority. She knew how many camels the group needed. She could sense the Fun Brigade coming two hours before they came into sight, and an hour after the group had decamped elsewhere. It was deep winter in Ongolium and the herder communities tended to remain camped in the same sheltered spot for the duration. Most returned to the same winter campsite year after year, some built permanent walls to ward off the plummeting temperatures. It made things easier for Lily; she wouldn't have to think about where to move to next. It also comforted her that her father would know where to find her as and when he escaped. Until he returned, the graves of her mother and dead sister would keep her company. She had no one else with whom she could speak frankly, at least not in that world.

  Aged twenty-two Lily had the diplomacy and tact to manage intergroup wrangling, know whether two star-struck lovers would make a lasting couple and what the weather was likely to do for the coming week. Lily did find herself using her gift on certain occasions just to confirm that she was making the right decision, although invariably she found that she was. Being separate from the group gave her the distance a leader requires from their people while her blood bond ensured loyalty and acceptance. Becoming leader should have been a simple process and a simple task. What Lily hadn't bargained for was the extra secret knowledge that only a leader could know. Upon taking up the mantle the group elders handed her an ornate box with a golden key.

  ‘Inside there be secrets,’ said the elders as one. ‘Read and ye shall discover what it is that we are and what it is that we are doing.’

  ‘Do you have to talk so strangely?’ asked Lily.

  ‘No, not really,’ said the elder who was known as Chuluun. ‘We always thought it added more . . . more gravitas.’

  ‘It sounds a little bit mad, if you don't mind me saying,’ said Lily.

  ‘Oh!’ said Chuluun. ‘Sorry about that. Must try harder – what with you being the new leader and everything. Ho-hum, I guess everything changes with each generation but doesn't really vary. Anyhow, toodle-pip.’ He waved her goodbye and wandered slowly away to where his elder friends were discussing what voice they should adopt next. Lily had always found conversations with the elders to be ambiguous at best. Chuluun in particular had a special ability to be enigmatic, vague and peculiar.

  Lily took the box, packed it on to Lucky's back and rode off to one of her favourite haunts out on the Steppe. Lily had always thought they were merely a small band of slightly rebellious outcasts who wanted to live on their own terms and according to the old ways. Apparently, it wasn't as simple as that.

  5

  Although the sun shone pretty much every day in Ongolium, the weather was rarely nice in Baatarulaan. City dwellers didn't really have a sense of environment. It was more important that they kept themselves warm, were able to power their super-casinos and ensured that the red lights along certain designated streets were kept bright enough for the many human moths attracted to them. It was midday but could easily have been dusk. Thick smog sat smugly over the city. Barely any natural light filtered through to street level. Baatarulaan was not a city where you were likely to catch skin cancer; other, more cruel cancers were far more prolific.

  Lunchtime was Tengis's favourite part of the school day. He found school particularly dull. There was little that the teachers were able to teach him. The libraries contained little reading material; it was mostly picture books containing images of women photographed to please men who were spending some time alone. Tengis had found that the many statues and paintings that existed in Baatarulaan held texts engraved or painted into them. From these he was able to educate himself far beyond the levels his school was ever likely to achieve. From these readings he had learned the history of his country, the stories about Baatarulaan's son and legend. He could see many positives in the world Chinggis had created, although secretly he doubted whether running such an enormous empire was truly efficient or the best use of funds. He also saw the benefits of what Khad had set out to build. Tengis had always enjoyed having a strict sense of order and the Fun Brigade offered an identity with which he could relate. If only he had known his father – perhaps he would have been of a different opinion. Lunchtime was when Tengis learned what he really wanted to know and undertook his true schooling.

  Today Tengis was walking towards Trouble Bridge with his close and only friend, Odval. The bridge spanned the river Fuul that flowed north–south across Ongolium, starting and ending beyond its borders. None of Ongolium's frontiers met the sea. The river Fuul was the only source of water in the entire country. Thankfully, it was a big river. Nobody knew where it came from or even if Fuul was its correct name, but Khad had come up with it so it had stuck. No records existed to show what it had been called before Khad took over from Chinggis.

  Odval came from a wealthy family who owned the largest of the super-casinos in Baatarulaan as well as a number of Khem distribution outlets for users of that particular laughing narcotic. Odval's family was respected, as much as respect was ever given in that city, and most definitely feared. Tengis thought they were charming people and was particularly fond of Odval's father with whom he had begun to grow close. Although an intelligent young woman, Odval would only ever be second best in her school class so long as Tengis was in the same class. It didn't bother her, though. She marvelled in her friend's ability to absorb information, create order amid the chaos of Baatarulaan, and eke out real education when for most there was none.

  ‘What's so special about Trouble Bridge?’ asked Odval.

  ‘Trouble Bridge was not always named so,’ said Tengis, assuming a professorial stance as they walked across the stone slabs, thumbs tucked neatly into his waistcoat pocket. Tengis had an unusually mature sense of fashion. He spurned the leather-and-link chainmail that was all the rage among others his age. Instead, he preferred to wear camel-hair trousers, waistcoat and matching jacket. He thought this made him look clever but others thought he looked like a children's toy.

  ‘How so?’ asked Odval. ‘Father says that absolutely nothing has changed since the Fun Brigade started.’

  ‘That may be so,’ remarked Tengis, ‘but before then there was a world, too – though few dare admit it. It was originally known as Peace Bridge. The bridge carried Chinggis Khaan and his Mongol hordes back to his capital after they had secured the empire. From that day on Chinggis made all who entered the city wait and pay respect to those who had fought to win the empire. Sometimes the wait lasted hours.

  ‘When Khad was elected to run the country’ – it was always believed that this must have been the case so democratic was Baatarulaan, so long as you were from the right family and could afford to pay for the privilege – ‘When Khad was elected,’ continued Tengis, ‘he declared that the empire his beloved cousin had created was simply too big, cumbersome and unwieldy to be in the best of interests of his subjects, the Ogoliumns, as they had come to be known. I have to say, I agree with that sentiment – it was ridiculously large. Anyway, because of the land sale Khad initiated, getting rid of large swathes of the country in return for peace, he gave himself several migraine headaches. He didn't like feeling so bad so he renamed the bridge Trou
ble Bridge because it had given him anything other than peace. Though Trouble Bridge had changed a great deal since the time of Chinggis, Khad's followers unwittingly allowed the inscriptions to remain. Waiting on the bridge had become legendary.’ They looked around them. Several dozen carts, wagons and motorised vehicles were stuck one behind the other as they made their way towards Baatarulaan. Some people appeared to be quite irate and were banging on tambours and honking makeshift horns.

  ‘That makes sense,’ replied Odval. ‘Everything Khad did made sense and I hate the thought of anything having troubled him.’ Odval's family were strong Khadists. ‘So, why have we come to this bridge? There is another one which is far newer and cleaner – why this one?’

  ‘It's to do with the pillars that line both sides of the bridge,’ said Tengis. ‘They have barely changed since they were built and a man with a dog I met when I was on my last little learning mission said that they were worth inspecting closely.’

  ‘I can't see anything special about these,’ said Odval. ‘They all look the same. All the same height. All made from the same boring stone. No sparkly lights or tinsel. They have images of people on them but what can you learn from that? They look like the work of Outsiders, if you ask me.’

  ‘Well, I'm not asking you,’ said Tengis gruffly. ‘You need to look at the detail. See, these people here?’ Tengis pointed to some images towards the rear of the pillars. ‘They are holding scrolls.’

  ‘How on earth are you going to read that?’ asked Odval. ‘The writing is so tiny.’

  ‘Aha!’ said Tengis. He fished a magnifying glass out from his jacket pocket. Odval leaned over his shoulder as he moved closer to the sculpted scroll.

  As she and Tengis had grown older together, she had begun to have different sorts of feelings for him. When she was up close to him a moments like these she felt different; it was more than just friendship. She had known that boys smelled funny but Tengis had a natural aroma which Odval relished. She had once borrowed a sweater from him to keep herself warm. For many nights afterwards she had held it close to her face breathing in Tengis's scent. When he had asked for it back, she had pretended to have lost it. She wasn't sure why but she wanted to keep that part of him close to her while she slept. Admitting this to Tengis was impossible. She knew that men and women thought differently and hadn't had enough experience to second-guess what his reaction might have been. For the time being moments such as these when she was kneeling close to Tengis would have to suffice. It was a small pleasure but taken gladly.

  Unbeknown to Odval, Tengis felt similarly excited when she was close to him. He had first noticed the shine of her hair and softness of her skin. She was far more confident than he was, especially in public. The strength of her family background offered Odval a degree of security Tengis could only dream of. He was not jealous. He cared too fondly for Odval. In the same way that Odval was impressed with his knowledge, Tengis was proud of her natural exuberance. More recently he had started to watch closely for a stolen glimpse of her body. The curves that were emerging from beneath her jacket filled him with a keen sense of desire he had never experienced before. The feelings filled his fantasies and riddled his private emotions. They were private, though; never to be shared, particularly with Odval. He would not be able to take the humiliation or rejection if she had laughed at his declaration. He had always held his emotions tightly wound up inside. He had his father to thank for that. He hoped that one day he would be able to ask him why.

  ‘See that scroll there,’ said Tengis. Odval leaned in closer, but not too close, so that she could see more clearly what it was that Tengis was pointing at. Tengis thought she sensed Odval turn her face towards him and breathe in deeply through her nose. He ignored it. ‘This scroll is talking about the original group of four that ran the first ever empire. Here, see that – that lion brandishing a shield marked K denotes Khasar. Khasar was said to be the bravest man to have been born. His fearlessness and leadership endeared him to his long-standing friend Chinggis. They grew up together fighting, feuding and frequenting houses of ill-repute, whatever that means. The dolphin marked T relates to Bold. He was a keen sailor, not a natural skill for us Ongolians given that we are landlocked and the nearest sea is over a thousand kilometres away. His ability to undertake successful military campaigns by boat, ship and, on one occasion, a school of porpoise gave him the nickname Dolphin. They say he could speak to the aquatic mammals and even teach them to do his underwater bidding.’

  ‘Wow!’ replied Odval. ‘I would love to meet a man like that.’ Her face lit up as she thought of Bold talking freely with the animals in their clipped clicking language.

  ‘Personally,’ added Tengis, ‘I think it was just a flimsy technique he adopted to chat up girls. They say he was a terrible womaniser.’

  Odval's face dropped and she refocused on the task at hand. ‘What about that one?’ she asked. She was pointing at a snake that formed a circle and appeared to be eating its own tail. ‘It looks particularly odd.’

  ‘Ah!’ said Tengis. ‘You'll like this one. The serpent represents Khad. He was known to be silent, cunning and deadly by those closest to him. It was a description he derived great pleasure from.’

  ‘Why does he look like he's eating his tail?’ asked Odval.

  ‘Well,’ answered Tengis, ‘it is said that Khad is so powerful that he lives for ever. The complete circle represents infinity. He is said to live around us, in us and between us. Though not in our world, he sees and hears all that we do. People believe that if the strong values and sense of community that Khad fought so bravely to create are forgotten or even changed too much then he will return to our world.’

  ‘How can that be?’ asked Odval. ‘The Laughter Laws dictate that there is nothing after we die. They say that the life we have is our only one, which is why it is so important to do whatever we want regardless of what others might say or think. If that's the case, how can Khad possibly still be around? He died so long ago.’

  ‘I don't think that normal rules apply to Khad,’ said Tengis. ‘He seems to have seen himself as above all others.’

  ‘We know that,’ said Odval. ‘He was emperor after all.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Tengis, ‘but it was more than that; he seems to have considered himself as some sort of ethereal entity. He named himself as lifelong executive officer of every bureaucratic body he established. By “lifelong” he meant for all time. It is written into their mission statements: “The Fun Brigade”,’ Tengis quoted verbatim, ‘ “will make sure everybody has fun as and when it decides they should have fun and this fun will be presided over for all time with strictest humour by the chief fun-maker Khad.” It's a bit of a strange thing to do, but then again Khad was, and perhaps still is, all powerful.’

  ‘OK,’ said Odval, who didn't really understand what it was that Tengis had been talking about. ‘What about that one?’ She pointed at a simple-looking yet proud horse. It had no rider but wore a somewhat more elaborate saddle. The horse was facing to the left. ‘That doesn't look very significant.’

  ‘You're joking, right?’ asked Tengis. ‘Everyone knows what the horse represents, don't they?’

  Odval looked at him blankly. ‘The horse stands for Chinggis, obviously.’ Tengis wondered about his friend. Although she was special to him, he had to question her intelligence sometimes, even if he knew that measuring anyone against his own superior knowledge was more than a little unfair. ‘Chinggis conquered the world from horseback. He was not a proud or showy man. Unlike others of his time, he didn't drape himself in golden robes and walk about wearing a crown. He dressed like his people did, although he did eat slightly better dinners.’

  Domestic produce in Ongolium, or Mongolia, had always been more than a little thin on the ground. Most people lived off mutton, dumplings and fat-based stews. The weather forbade all bar a few vegetables or fruits from being grown and these were normally given to the more well-to-do families. Given the diet and harsh weather conditio
ns, a person's fortieth birthday was greeted with enormous festivity and a considerable measure of thankfulness. If someone lived till they were fifty, even the Fun Brigade were impressed and stopped using their sticks on them. It was felt by the age of fifty people didn't need to be encouraged to have fun; it simply happened. On reaching sixty people were deemed witches and most were normally burned to death on a barbecue.

  ‘Why would he act like the common people?’ asked Odval. ‘If I were empress, I would wear only the finest finery, eat only the tastiest foods and wouldn't look at the common people, let alone speak to them, if I could possibly help it.’

  This annoyed Tengis who had always considered himself high-minded. It annoyed him because, although he, and his mother, loved Chinggis to the point of worship, he actually felt the same way as Odval. He couldn't understand why someone with power wouldn't wield their will and lord it over others. He banished this thought. He was Chinggis; he just needed to find out how.

  ‘Don't be petty,’ said Tengis. ‘Chinggis was the greatest man ever to walk this land.’

  Odval looked at him aghast. ‘How can you say that? You'd better not let anyone else hear you saying things like this. Khad is our beloved emperor, no other has ever lived that is as good, kind or wise as he.’

  Tengis could tell from her tone that Odval didn't really believe this. She was of the same opinion as he. Eventually they started to giggle.

  ‘House of Fun!’ said Tengis through his laughter. ‘Who would come up with something quite so ridiculous!’ Odval and he laughed hard until tears rolled down their faces and they crumpled next to one another on the dusty bridge. They looked at one another through dampened faces and for a second there was more than friendship.

  ‘We,’ said Tengis, suddenly standing up, ‘had better get back. School will be starting soon and we don't want to be late; people might become suspicious.’ He closed the door on his emotions, locked it, put the key in a padlocked box and threw it into the river. He helped Odval to her feet and the pair walked back towards school as though nothing had happened.