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immediately.
    “I didn’t see him fall,” he said, as if his seeing would have helped.
    Temujin nodded, his deft hands feeling Temuge for broken bones or signs of a wound. There was a lump on the side of his head, hidden by the black hair. Temujin prodded at it.
    “He’s knocked out, but I can’t feel a break. Give me a little water for him.”
    He held out a hand and Khasar pulled a leather bottle from a saddlecloth, drawing the stopper with his teeth. Temujin dribbled the warm liquid into Temuge’s open mouth.
    “Don’t choke him,” Bekter advised, reminding them he was still mounted, as if he supervised the others.
    Temujin didn’t trouble to reply. He was filled with dread as to what their mother Hoelun would say if Temuge died. They could hardly give her such news while her belly was filled with another child. She was weak from sickness and Temujin thought the shock and grief might kill her, yet how could they hide it? She doted on Temuge and her habit of feeding him the sweet yoghurt curds was part of the reason for his chubby flesh.
    Without warning, Temuge choked and spat water. Bekter made an irritable sound with his lips, tired of the children’s games. The rest of them beamed at each other.
    “I dreamed of the eagle,” Temuge said.
    Temujin nodded at him. “That is a good dream,” he said, “but you must learn to ride, little man. Our father would be shamed in front of his bondsmen if he heard you had fallen.” Another thought struck him and he frowned. “If he does hear, we may not be allowed to race at the gathering.”
    Even Khasar lost his smile at that, and Kachiun pursed his mouth in silent worry. Temuge smacked his lips for more water and Temujin passed him the bottle.
    “If anyone asks about your lump, tell them we were playing and you hit your head—understand, Temuge? This is a secret. The sons of Yesugei do not fall.”
    Temuge saw that they were all watching his response, even Bekter, who frightened him. He nodded vigorously, wincing at the pain.
    “I hit my head,” he said, dazedly. “And I saw the eagle from the red hill.”
    “There are no eagles on the red hill,” Khasar replied. “I was trapping marmots there only ten days ago. I would have seen a sign.”
    Temuge shrugged, which was unusual in itself. The little boy was a terrible liar and, when challenged, he would shout, as if by growing louder they would be forced to believe him. Bekter was in the process of turning his pony away when he looked thoughtfully at the little boy.
    “When did you see the eagle?” Bekter said.
    Temuge shrugged. “I saw him yesterday, circling over the red hill. In my dream, he was larger than a normal eagle. He had claws as large as—”
    “You saw a real eagle?” Temujin interrupted. He reached out and held his arm. “A real bird, this early in the season? You saw one?” He wanted to be certain it was not one of Temuge’s idiotic stories. They all remembered the time he had come into the ger one night claiming to have been chased by marmots who rose up on their hind legs and spoke to him.
    Bekter’s expression showed he shared the same memory. “He is dizzy from the fall,” he said.
    Temujin noticed how Bekter had taken a firmer hold on the reins. As slowly as he might approach a wild deer, Temujin rose to his feet, risking a glance to where his own pony cropped busily at the turf. Their father’s hawk had died and he still mourned the loss of the greathearted bird. Temujin knew Yesugei dreamed of hunting with an eagle, but sightings were rare and the nests were usually on cliffs sheer enough and high enough to defeat the most determined climber. Temujin saw that Kachiun had reached his pony and was ready to go. A nest could have an eagle chick for their father to keep. Perhaps Bekter wanted one for himself, but the others knew that Yesugei would be overcome with gratitude to the boy who brought him the khan of birds. The eagles ruled the air as the tribes ruled the land, and