Chapter 10: The Naming Ceremony II
All this time, Khishigjargal had kept quiet while people spoke about her marriage. But now, Duldun—feeling out of place—stood up, grabbed Khishigjargal's hands, and said,
"Elder sister, come. Let's go check on Second Sister."
Someone as polite as Khishigjargal simply followed Dulgun's lead. Together, they made their way to their sister's yurt.
Inside, Khan Yesün Aral stood with his sister Khaltma beside the bed of their fainted daughter. Khaltma whispered, "I can't believe the Oghuz now have a shamaness born of their blood."
Khan Yesün Aral replied, "Indeed. The blood of the Moon Crows does not dilute."
Just then, the two girls entered. Khaltma looked up at them, and Dulgun quickly said,
"We came to check on Sister."
Khaltma responded humbly, "She's fine," and then turned to her brother. "Let's give the girls some space."
As they exited, the girls bowed politely. Sitting by the bed, Dulgun said softly,
"It seems our sister has become a shamaness."
Khishigjargal nodded. "It's such an honor for the Oghuz."
Dulgun frowned slightly. "But the Wolfborn Horde doesn't love shamans."
Khishigjargal gave a faint smile. "That's because we are a warrior tribe."
Dulgun fell into a thoughtful silence—then suddenly remembered something.
"I just realized," she said. "Sister Khishigjargal, you walk like that vigilante I saw on the battlefield."
Khishigjargal, amused, raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"I know it sounds impossible, but..." Dulgun hesitated.
Khishigjargal interrupted gently, "Tell me about her."
Perhaps because she knew Dulgun well, her curiosity sounded genuine.
Dulgun's eyes lit up. "You wouldn't believe it. She was incredibly skilled—even better than you were in your youth. While thousands of hooves pounded the ground and warriors awaited the signal to unleash chaos, she stood at the edge of your grandfather's forces. Tall, veiled in black, more shadow than woman.
"When the arrows screamed and the sun vanished under their flight, she moved like a ghost—her blades silent but sure, cutting through the enemy like water through reeds. Calm. Precise. Cruel, even. The wolf in sheep's clothing."
She leaned in. "The interesting part? She acknowledged me. She bowed."
Khishigjargal smirked. "Did she bow to your skill... or your brutality?"
Dulgun paused, then asked quietly, "Were you there?"
Khishigjargal nodded. "Of course. I was tending to the wounded. Even Father knows."
Dulgun chuckled. "When we made our dramatic entrance, everyone prostrated—except her. She stood, fearless."
"Are you sure?" Khishigjargal asked. "Even I was scared. I thought Father had returned."
They both laughed. Then Dulgun teased, "Sister, they were talking about your marriage, and you were so quiet. Didn't you like the idea?"
Khishigjargal gave a faint, fake smile.
Naïve Dulgun jumped to conclusions. "I don't know when he'll propose either..."
Just then, the sleeping princess stirred.
"And who is he?" she teased, eyes half-open.
Dulgun grinned. "Sister, you're awake!"
"How do you feel now, Sister Sagangui?"
"Much better now," Sagangui replied softly.
"Were you possessed?" Dulgun joked.
Sagangui giggled. "Yes. Bluntly, yes."
"Ew. I'm scared!" Dulgun said playfully.
Khishigjargal reached out. "You must have gone through a lot, Sagangui."
Sagangui smiled. "No, it wasn't much... besides—"
Khishigjargal cut in, "Sister, who's older—me or you?"
Sagangui held her hands and the sisters embraced warmly.
---
Back at the Ceremony
The Sui envoy challenged the humility of the Great Khan.
Khan Tömörjin, who had remained silent throughout the ceremony, spoke with warning:
"Do not test the humility of this man. He holds the loyalty of millions beyond his borders—something no army can guarantee."
At these words, the Tibetan monks bowed, a silent agreement.
The Grand Sage watched Tömörjin, a man who looked fierce yet defended the ultimate Beast of the East.
Then the Great Khan himself spoke, his voice calm:
"I sit on the highest seat only to see farther—not to look down upon those I serve.
"A throne of gold is still dust beneath the heavens... So I bow before the One who never dies."
His words stirred something in the Grand Sage. He stood and declared:
"Your Majesty, grant me the privilege of becoming your little daughter's master."
The Great Khan nodded. "Oh, Grand Sage, the privilege is mine—but something as precious as my daughter is only worthy of my mother."
Enkmaa murmured under her breath, "That's why I hate her."
The queen turned to the Great Khan "What did you say?"
The Great Khan answered with a chill, "Emotionless woman. My daughter will grow beside my mother—it is a privilege to be raised by the Queen Mother."
He continued, "I remember Bolorma wanted to entrust her daughter Naadamaya to my mother, but she refused. This is a good thing for you and your child."
It sounded easy when he said it—but no one dared argue with the Great Khan.
Then came an old woman with a humble appearance. Her left leg was crippled, and she walked with a stick. But her presence radiated such warmth that even a child could sense her goodness.
The Great Khan stood. "Mother."
The Grand Sage was stunned. The woman who controls the Silk Trade is... crippled?
Yet he was more stunned when the Great Khan walked her to his throne, then sat on the ground, massaging her leg.
She scolded him, "Batu, how dare you remain by your throne these past days and not help me at the market?"
"Mother, I'm sorry," he said.
"You'd better be. I heard what you and your daughter, Dulgun did."
"I swear, Mother—I won't do it again."
He poured her some airag to soften her mood.
"You're coming with me to the Evergreen mountain after this," she said firmly.
Batu turned to Uncle Choibalsan. "You heard her—I won't be around the next few days."
The Grand Sage watched with amusement.
Then Batu told his mother about the Grand Sage's offer.
She slapped him.
"Mother, why—?" Batu screamed.
"This is Grand Sage Liu! People beg him to take their children as disciples, and he always refuses. We are lucky!" she said, almost spitting in humor. "The offer is granted!"
Laughter broke out of her funny style of expressing joy.
She noticed the queen of the Western Göktürk Khaganate. "Sister, long time," she called, then pinched Batu to help her reach the queen's table.
They sat and chatted with the queen, whom she called Rokshan.
---
Later that Morning
As the sun rose, the baby was held facing the dawn. Her name was called aloud, for the spirits to hear and accept.
The White Shaman, Khan Yesün Aral, called out:
"By the Grace of the Eternal Heaven,
Holder of the Wulan Blade,
Disciple of the Grand Sage—
I present to you:
Altun-Töre Orghana Naimanzunnadintsetseg Beki."
Amala Yara stood and gave the final blessing. She presented the first gift:
a small silk scroll, marked with hidden trade winds and coded stars.
She whispered:
"May your name open doors no armies can force,
and may your silence weigh more than a thousand speeches."
Then, the Grand Sage stood and offered a poem:
---
"Orghana: Born When Empires Burn"
By the Great Sage, at the Naming Ceremony
When towers cracked and kingdoms wept,
And even monks in caves had not slept,
You came—not with sword or cry,
But a hush that made war drums die.
Born while the Sui wept blood in gold,
When loyalties broke and cities were sold.
You were wrapped not in silk, but fate,
The key to a gate no war could break.
O Orghana, flame in a field of ash,
Your laughter split the tyrant's lash.
Where men saw doom, the stars saw grace
In your small hands, the steppes found place.
The clans were scattered, the world was torn,
Yet in your breath, new peace was born.
You were not given; you were sent,
A sign from Heaven, with purpose meant.
Rise, daughter of the unnamed peace,
Your cradle shakes the warlords' fleece.
One day they'll say, "The roads were red,"
But Orghana walked, and tyrants fled.
Applause filled the air.
Then a voice rose: "The Prophet of God said—"
All the Arabs and Persians said in unison,
"Peace Be Upon Him."
Amir stood and recited:
Sahih Bukhari 6154
"It is better for a man to fill his body with pus than with poetry."
Then he recited from the Holy Book:
Surah Al-Qasas (28:5):
Wa nurīdu an namunna ʿalā alladhīna us'ṭuḍʿifū fī al-arḍi wanajʿalahum a-immatan wanajʿalahum al-wārithīn.
"And We wished to favor those who were oppressed in the land and make them leaders and inheritors."
A Persian man then recited:
Surah Maryam (19:12):
Yā Yaḥyā khudh il-kitāba bi-quwwatin wa ātaynāhu al-ḥukma ṣabiyyā.
"O Yahya, hold fast to the Scripture." And We gave him wisdom while he was still a child.
When another Persian rose to recite, he swayed slightly, the scent of drink clinging to him. The crowd barked at him—
"He's drunk! He hasn't performed ablution—what does he think he's reciting?"
A hush followed, heavy and sharp.
Amir raised a hand. Calmly, almost gently, he said,
"My friend... sit down."
The Persian blinked, then lowered himself wordlessly, shame settling around him like dust.