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We ride four days to the north and east. The sun warms the days, but the nights are still very cold. The meat from my beast is long gone. For meals, we have millet boiled with the cracked bones of the ibex and withered root vegetables. I take the cup of tea and squeeze mare’s milk in it, along with salt. It is not as good as my mother’s, but it satisfies me and fills my belly with warmth.
On the fifth day, we come to scattered settlements and join a well-worn trail. In the distance, I see a haze of smoke, and, as we ride closer, there are structures like none I have seen before. They are large, some constructed of stone, others with logs, sitting along on the banks of a wide river. Some of the buildings are topped with tall spires. A stone wall surrounds one side and I see workers con
