"Of course. A mongol leader who conquered all of Asia--his own Gobi, India, China. He moved on into Europe, too, sweeping the Russian, Polish and Hungarian Armies to defeat. He probably conquered more of the world than any other single man." They stood on a high, wind-swept plateau with vast reaches of glistening white sand all around them. Legions of wind-driven dunes marched endlessly to the horizon, but a mile or so to the east reed-bordered ponds ruled over a verdantly green oasis. Surrounding the oasis was Genghis Kahn's city of yurts--the dwellings borrowing some of the features of the tent and some of the American aborigine tepees. Dung-fires tainted the air with an unpleasant pungency. Strangely, Tedor discovered, there were no guards, no sentries. "Their sentries have outposts on the desert," Laniq explained. "If a large body of horsemen arrives, they will see it in plenty of time. As for the lone traveler, he could be nothing but a friend. An enemy would not live long in this place." They advanced on the oasis, the unfamiliar yakskin clothing itching Tedor's skin, the stain which converted him to a Mongol in appearance smarting in his eyes. Before long the black felt yurts were not ahead of them but all around them and they walked, completely uncontested, to the very door of Genghis Kahn's own yurt, the standard of the nine yak tails billowing above it in the stiff wind. The Kha Khan, the Emperor of Mankind, the Power of God on Earth, the Master of Thrones and Crowns, the Mighty Manslayer--Genghis Kahn squatted, Oriental fashion, by his dung fire. With him were two men, the first old and bent, a scraggly white beard falling to his ornate belt. The second was younger and--Tedor may have imagined it--he seemed to be squirming and scratching in the yakskin clothing. "He can work magic," the ancient man declared. "I have seen him blast rocks, Oh Kahn. I have seen him make fire from a simple tube. Heed wisely his words, Oh Kahn." Genghis Kahn wore long, plaited, greased red hair. His coarse, wind-beaten features worked themselves into a scowl. "He speaks fantasies," said the Kahn. "Not fantasy," the third man at the fire said, sniffing distastefully, Tedor thought, at the dung-fumes. "Truth. I say this: Genghis Kahn can one day master all the world, from the Land of Morning Calm to the city called Vienna." "Of Vienna I have never heard." "One day you will," the younger man promised, "but sure, bold strokes are essential. The Shah of Persia would stop you. You balk at crossing his frontiers. You would return to Karakorum and rest." "Yes. My capital is a beautiful city, and I _would_ rest." "You must never rest, not with all mankind ready to fall at your feet! The Shah of Persia anticipates border actions, clashes, sorties, patrols. Fool him. Strike with your entire army at the gateway city. It is far to the south of here, in a warmer land, but it is the gateway to the West for your people, Oh Kahn."