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642 pages, Paperback
First published April 26, 2012
The first thing Temujin did when he came out of his clan meet was send an explanation to Jamuqa.
The Mongols have been twenty years without a khan. Now is he your warm coat against the winter; unwrap him not. Now is he your neck-scarf of fur; discard him not.
He was a young singer, with a pale forelock in a curl, storm-grey eyes and the most fortunate face of the brothers; he flattered them and grew roguish; the tipsy Qorijin and Qo’orchin in their tilting hats emitted screams, but not for help.
None of his sons were perfect, though roughly five of the daughters were.
Grey and gnarled, she kept the rags of beauty and that sheer force of character that Temujin had whet himself against as a youngster.
I think that is his scouringly honest habit of mind.