Chapter 214: Reaching (Beating Out) an Agreement

"Wuu wuu wuu wuu!" In the dungeon of the former governor's mansion in Kesh, sobs rose and fell, now and then mixed with pained gasps — truly enough to grieve any listener and draw tears from any hearer.

In the pitch-black cell, so dark he could not see his own hand before his face, Salah Ahmed Khuda lay on a pile of damp spring-wheat straw, nearly out of his mind.

As a scion of a distinguished Bukhara family of three generations, born to silks and fine food, he had never suffered such treatment, and he had never realized how afraid of the dark he was.

One need only see the word "Khuda" in his name to know that this was a young man of a truly ancient aristocratic line.

For the ancestor of the Samanid royal house was called Saman Khuda.

And Saman Khuda was a descendant of the Sasanian Persian king Bahram VI, while Bahram VI's ancestors could be traced back to the Parthian Empire.

You see, while the Chinese were crying "Are kings and lords born to their rank?" and gradually smashing the so-called thousand-year aristocratic clans,

on the soil of Persia the rulers had changed, but the families had never changed — the same royal houses that had ruled for a thousand years still ruled here.

"Sss!" Salah, having accidentally brushed the wound on his buttocks, sucked in a sharp breath.

This was the scar left by fifteen strokes of the army rod. At the thought of it, tears could not help streaming down the face of this scion of an old noble house.

He now hated himself bitterly — why had he run his mouth in Bukhara for the sake of a few admiring looks?

In truth he was nothing but a wastrel who had skimmed a few half-understood military treatises and picked up a smattering of knowledge by humbly following his family's retainers.

Yet with the added luster of his family background, Salah, who had never spent a day in an army camp, had become a famous military strategist in Bukhara's aristocratic circles by the power of his tongue alone, and many who had heard him boast praised his great talent.

"I suppose Prince Hamid still thinks he is very clever, doesn't he?

He kept Husayn, the one general who truly understands warfare, while sending to Khujand the noble most skilled at leading troops in all of Bukhara."

Salah muttered to himself. He reckoned he was surely going to die here.

Creak! The wooden door of the dungeon opened from outside, and Salah's whole body shuddered.

Over these five days, there had been three small beatings a day and one big beating every two days, and after each beating they even treated his wounds. The jailers seemed to have the keenest knack for torment, often leaving him in such pain that he wished he could be stabbed to death on the spot.

"Salah, come out and eat! After this meal, tomorrow you can be released."

A young man in a blue robe looked at Salah, though the upturned corner of his mouth seemed to carry a hint of mockery.

Salah heard nothing else — he only caught the words "released tomorrow," and at once he was overjoyed.

Could the Juer Khan have shown great mercy and decided to let him go? Surely he had not misheard?

Out of caution, Salah still asked a question.

"Of course you didn't mishear!" The young man gave him an affirmative answer, though the mockery and teasing at the corner of his mouth grew even more obvious.

"Because tomorrow you will die by being torn apart by five horses. Your head, your four limbs, and your heart, liver, lungs, and guts will scatter all over the ground, and you will never again have to endure the jailers' beatings. Is that not release?"

So that was the kind of release — torn into pieces by warhorses, and of course then one would be released.

Wah! Salah burst into tears at once. He did not want to die!

"This dihqan lord, could I trouble you to plead with the Great Khan on my behalf! My family is a great clan of Bukhara. If the Great Khan is willing to let me go, I am willing to pay ten thousand silver coins to ransom myself!"

At the moment of life and death, Salah still knew that wailing alone was useless. He forcibly steadied his nerves and began to beg for mercy.

"Salah Hakim, do you think the noble Juer Khan lacks these ten thousand silver coins?" Guo Tiance sneered.

"His Majesty the Great Khan has conquered ten thousand kingdoms and is Khan of Khans, supremely noble. Mountains of gold and silver are inexhaustible to him. Ten thousand silver coins in the Great Khan's eyes are no more than ten thousand grains of coarse wheat!

The greatest pleasure of His Majesty the Juer Khan is to see his enemies kneel before him and beg for mercy. As for silver coins — do not dirty the Great Khan's eyes with them!"

No money wanted, only kneeling and begging for mercy — that was easy! Salah's eyes lit up, and with a thud he dropped to his knees before Guo Tiance.

"Dihqan, kneeling and begging for mercy I can do! You see, I can kneel and plead even before you. However the Juer Khan wants me to kneel and beg, that is how I will beg!"

"Hetui!" Guo Tiance could not help spitting at him.

"Hakim, are you trying to make me laugh? What are you? You are merely a hakim — even in Samanid Persia you are no great figure. Does someone like you deserve to be an enemy of His Majesty the Great Khan? Are you even qualified?"

Salah was stunned. Right! He was only a hakim. He was not even worthy to be an enemy of the Juer Khan — they would not even accept him as a subject of the Juer Khan.

Then what could he do? Could it be that he truly could only be torn apart by five horses?

"Perhaps... you could persuade someone qualified to be an enemy of the noble Juer Khan to submit to the Juer Khan, and thereby buy yourself a chance to live." Guo Tiance began to lead him along patiently.

Salah quickly set his little brain racing. Someone qualified to be an enemy of the Juer Khan — who in Samanid Persia could that be?

Of course it was Emir Nasr II, was it not?

Uh! If Nasr II were willing to submit, how could he possibly have fled to Khujand?

Recalling his father-in-law's vicious, arrogant temper, Salah shook his head rapidly.

"That won't work! His Highness the Emir would certainly never agree, and I have no way to persuade him!"

What kind of "top-tier" talent are you? Guo Tiance's mouth nearly formed an O. Who the hell said anything about Emir Nasr II?

If the Great King could force Nasr II to submit, why would we have gone to the trouble of capturing you specifically? And the great men of Bukhara actually sent someone of this intelligence to turn the tide — tsk tsk!

"Of course His Highness the Emir would not agree, because he has not witnessed the Juer Khan's might. But think again — in Bukhara, among those of rank slightly lower than His Highness the Emir, might there be someone willing to submit to the Juer Khan?"

Frightened and frantic, nearly wetting himself, Salah suddenly had a moment of clarity.

He suddenly felt that this young noble beside the Juer Khan was guiding him with words. They did not want to kill me now? What did they want?

The two question marks had just surfaced when Salah immediately snuffed them out. Whatever they wanted, the urgent thing was to save his own life and get out of this prison as quickly as possible.

"There is! In Bukhara, besides His Highness the Emir, the Grand Salar and Crown Prince Hamid hold the most exalted rank and are qualified to submit to His Majesty the Juer Khan."

Salah had finally spoken the name Guo Tiance wanted to hear, and Guo Tiance's expression softened at once.

"Is that so? Can the Hakim persuade Prince Hamid?

Our Khagan has in fact heard of Prince Hamid's reputation and often says that Prince Hamid has been crown prince for twenty years and has handled affairs both inside and outside the palace quite well.

It is only a pity that His Highness Emir Nasr II is in excellent health, so Prince Hamid will probably have to wait another twenty years, won't he? Ha ha! Where in the world is there a crown prince of forty years?"

The dagger was out! Salah vaguely guessed what the Juer Khan was up to. They wanted to stir up internal strife in Samanid Persia and profit from it. It had to be so!

But that was none of his concern. Salah thought it over — Samanid Persia was vast in territory and great in population. However powerful the Juer Khan was, he could not possibly swallow it whole. A small betrayal on his part should be no great problem.

Even if it were, Salah had decided he did not care. Nothing mattered more than saving his own life.

"Please, Dihqan, report back to His Majesty the Juer Khan: Salah agrees to go and persuade Prince Hamid to submit. So long as the Great Khan pardons me, within half a month Prince Hamid will surely come in person to offer his allegiance."

Smack! A huge slap landed right across Salah's face!

The fair-skinned hakim's right cheek instantly swelled up. He stared at Guo Tiance in terror, not understanding why he had to take a slap.

"Does the hakim take me for a fool? If we released the hakim, I fear the first thing you would do is rush to Bukhara and plead with His Highness the Emir to send troops to fight us to the death!"

With a cold laugh, Guo Tiance tossed a piece of parchment and a quill pen in front of Salah.

"If the hakim truly wants His Majesty the Juer Khan to release you, then write a letter to Prince Hamid.

Tell His Highness the Prince that we want only the land of Farghana, and have not the slightest interest in the rich lands of Transoxiana.

His Majesty the Juer Khan does not even require Prince Hamid's submission. We merely wish to strike a mutually beneficial bargain with the Prince.

If His Highness the Prince does not wish to remain a crown prince for forty years, or even die at the hands of Balami and his ilk in the near future, he might offer a price that satisfies us. His Majesty the Juer Khan most delights in fulfilling other people's dreams!"

Salah touched his still-burning face and nodded his head like a chick pecking at grain. A thought suddenly surged up in his mind, impossible to suppress.

If this Juer Khan truly meant to keep his word, it would actually be a fine choice.

Compared to the aged, suspicious, and cruel Nasr II, there were in fact many people who hoped Prince Hamid would succeed to the throne — including himself.

"Someone, open the door! Let the noble Hakim Salah move into the room next to mine. Prepare good wine and fine food at once, and find a pretty little lady as well!"

The moment Guo Tiance saw Salah was willing, his expression changed completely. Not only did he release Salah from the cell, he thoughtfully prepared good wine, good meat, and a young woman.

Salah was overjoyed as well — at last he could leave this hellish place.

"Hakim, since you have agreed to this matter that benefits both sides, then as for the direction of Khujand, could the hakim perhaps step forward and persuade them to open the city gates?"

Guo Tiance asked with a beaming smile, but that smile always made Salah shiver involuntarily. After a moment's hesitation, he nodded rapidly.

"It should be so! It should be so!"

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