Until the Sun Falls (44 page)

He was small and mean. She wasn’t dying to inconvenience him. He remembered how she had tended him at Susdal, a great inert sick heap she couldn’t have moved by herself, with an oozing wound and a flighty stomach, and how she had wept when Susdal burned. He started to speak to her, but before he could call up the words she was dead.

He sat still, hoping for the pulse to come back. Beside her dead cheek the fur shone glossy and rich. Finally he tucked the robes up over her and went out.

The house was empty. In the garden, the household stood, and the shaman was sitting on the bench beside the fires. Psin went out the side door, walking between the two fires, and the shaman called out, “Khan, you are unclean, from now until the ninth new moon.”

He nodded. Artai came over to him, and he stepped to one side of the fires.

“What will you do?” she said.

He shrugged. “The law says I can’t go into a chief’s camp, that’s all. I’ll have to meet Sabotai in the open air.”

“The baby is a boy. He’s healthy, for now. Tshant should have come.”

“He will, probably.”

“He will not. We’ll have a message that he is busy. He isn’t busy. What was she to him? He’ll be glad she’s out of his way.”

Psin frowned at her, but she took him by the arm; her fingers dug into his forearm muscles. “Won’t he? It will be easier to explain a baby to Kerulu than a new woman.”

Her face was tight, graven into angles like a stone head. He said, “You blame him too much.”

“Blame him? He took her. He gave her the baby. You—Did you think she thought you were he?”

“Of course she did.”

“She knew who you were. She wanted you to come, more than Tshant. She never said so, but we understood. Now you’re preening yourself because you were generous enough to risk a ban that Sabotai will surely set aside, and you sent us away because you knew that we could be with you if you were under ban, but you couldn’t have us if we were.”

“What’s wrong?” he said. “You’re shaking.”

“You’re wrong. You and Tshant. She’s better off dead. You ruined her, you and Tshant.”

“We didn’t—”

“She was happier when she was a slave. At least she could still be a Russian. Go away. I’m angry with you.”

He stared at her. Her face was full of implacable energy. He looked over her head at Chan, standing a little apart from the slaves, shivering with cold. Expressionless, she stared back. After a moment he put his hand on the back of Artai’s head and drew her gently against him, and with her face against his coat she cried.

After a lot of confusion and the running of slaves back and forth, Psin met Sabotai in the courtyard of Batu’s palace. Sabotai had a fur robe around him against the light cold, and a slave came after him with a chair. He looked furious.

“How did you manage to get yourself mixed up in this? Dead women—”

“Talk to Batu’s shaman. Maybe he’ll lift it.”

“I already have. He says he could not purify the Kha-Khan himself from the dead ban. If you’d spat out gift meat or defiled running water—Never mind. It’s all right. You’ll have to pitch your yurt apart from everyone else’s, in camps, but the shaman says that clean persons can come to you, if they pass between fires going away. We’ll have to hold our councils in your yurt. What did you see in Hungary?”

Psin took the King’s messages from his coat and handed them to Sabotai. “The usual. He will not return the Kipchak refugees. Kotian Khan lives in high regard just outside their capital. Rijart jabbered with him about the envoys they killed, that time, but the King said they were spies.”

“Oh. Was Rijart useful?”

“Moderately.” Psin told him about the Teutonic knight. “But that might have been for the good. What did he mean, ‘I think I know enough about birds of prey to serve as falconer to the Kha- Khan?’”

Sabotai shrugged one shoulder. “What do you think?”

“I think it was a most courteous way of telling us we could boil the Kha-Khan and eat him, for all the Emperor cares.”

“So do I. This one sounds more interesting than most of them. What else?”

“You know I talked to merchants and such before I left. All I saw confirms what they said. There are many tribes, and they’re all at each other’s throats. The way the Hungarians talk of the Germans, Rijart says, would make you wonder why there are any Germans left. And the Germans hate the Franks—”

“I thought the Franks were all the people of Europe.”

“So did I, but it seems they’re just one tribe. And the Franks hate the Englanders—Rijart’s people. The Hungarian King is kin to the noyons north of him, the Poles, and south of him—the Bohemians. And to the Moravians and a lot of others. They took us in through a pass I’m sure we can force, if we come at it properly, They’ve got the pass garrisoned. We could send men south, between the mountains and the sea, through a river basin that runs east to west. North is only marsh and plain.”

“The knights. How do they fight?”

“Like little fortresses. I would not like to face one at close quarters. But kill their horses and they’d be helpless.” He told Sabotai about the crossbows. Sabotai snorted. “I think he’s probably right,” Psin said. “Hungary is the last of the flat ground; beyond that we have forest to fight in.”

“Yes. Are their cities like the Russians’?”

“Stone walls, huge gates. The cities themselves aren’t so defensible. Their stone towers would be impossible to storm.”

Sabotai made a face. “Oh, my.”

“I doubt they would wait to be besieged. I think we can bring them out onto ground of our own choosing easily enough. They’re wild to show how well they fight. And as long as we have room to run from them we can beat them.”

“This Emperor. He’ll defend his people, won’t he?”

“No. He’s fighting their head priest. Don’t ask me how a head priest can withstand a kha-khan long enough to make it a war, but apparently this one can. The Emperor’s son is the King of the Germans, but the Hungarian King owes him homage and Rijart says the usual run of things there is to let a defiant man get beaten so he’ll have to crawl to the others for help,”

“Supplies?”

“We can winter and summer very well in Hungary. In the north they say the springs are very wet, but the foraging shouldn’t be too bad. West of Hungary…” He shrugged.

“Forests.”

“Forests, hills, rivers, more forest. And a lot of cities. I don’t know. We could have trouble. We would have to lay siege to the cities.”

“What did the river look like, when you passed Kiev?”

“It’s not frozen yet. Soon.”

Sabotai grunted and gnawed his lip. “Interesting. Interesting. We have fifteen full strength tumans, of which six are at least half heavy cavalry. The Kipchaks made splendid heavy cavalry. We gave them Russian swords. They think they’re finer than khans. How are your relations with your son?”

“Good. Since the fight.”

“He’s penitent, he thinks he almost killed you. He’ll forget, soon enough.”

“Quyuk is badgering everybody.”

“I know. Batu asked the Kha-Khan to recall him. Jagatai sent you a message. Did you hear of it?”

“No.”

“You’re no longer Quyuk’s nursemaid. He wants your opinion of Kadan.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Siremon is less than they’d hoped. The Kha-Khan is strong but he’s not long this side of the grave. Would Kadan make a good Kha-Khan?”

Psin laughed. “People might have trouble saying it.”

“I’m beginning to think Quyuk is the only one of them who can be elected.”

Psin studied his face. Sabotai cocked one eyebrow. Finally Psin nodded. “I know what you mean. He has the… way about him.”

“Well. We’ll see what happens. Are you fit? Are you tired? We’ll go west tomorrow.”

“Slowly.”

“Yes.” Sabotai laughed. “Stay in Tshant’s house tonight. They won’t have your goods purified until tomorrow anyway.” He rose and slapped Psin on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re back. Just don’t get mixed up with any more dying women.” 

“Call him Tulugai,” Psin said.

Artai nodded. The slaves had brought in what they would need while they stayed here, and the little room was packed high with chests and boxes. Dmitri was carrying the child around in a sling.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” Artai said.

“You did. You were probably right, too.” He hooked his elbows over the windowsill. The odor of meat stewing drifted in from the other room, where Chan’s slaves were cooking dinner. He had written Jagatai about Kadan; he had given the shaman the gift for purifying the house.

“No,” Artai said. “She was just a silly girl who didn’t understand too many things.”

“Everything that happened to her happened to Chan,” he said. He remembered Ana’s soft voice, telling him she wanted to stay in his house.

Chan looked in the door. “What is he saying about me?”

“That you are like Ana.”

Chan’s brows drew down perfectly straight. She stared at Psin until he had to grin at her, moved inside the room, and sat down with her hands in her sleeves. “Bring me something to drink,” she said to him.

Psin called to Dmitri, in the next room. Artai said, “Tell me again that she is like Ana.”

“I never said—”

Dmitri came in with three bowls and a sack of kumiss. He had the child tucked up neatly in the crook of one arm. Psin took the baby and held it while Dmitri poured kumiss for them all. Chan picked up her bowl.

“I am not like her,” she said.

“Where are we going to sleep?” Artai said. “This house is so crowded, there are no empty couches.”

“Here,” Psin said. “What, do you need more room to stretch out?”

“Hunh,” Artai said. She picked up her bag of things to be mended, pulled out a sock, and inspected it closely. Psin took the baby into the kitchen; Dmitri followed him.

“Khan,” Dmitri said.

Psin turned. The baby squirmed in his arms, and he handed it to a woman.

Dmitri fidgeted a moment. “Ana was Christian, Khan. She should have a Christian burial.”

Psin nodded. “I’ve seen to that.”

“Oh. I…” Dmitri glanced around and switched abruptly into Russian. “May I go, when they bury her? And pray for her.”

“You were never such friends with her.”

“No. But she was Russian, like me. And…”

Psin waited for him to go on, but Dmitri only reddened, and Psin said, “What?”

“I think maybe we shared the same sin.” Dmitri thrust his hands into his belt. “We shouldn’t have submitted to you, but we did. Maybe if I pray for her, she will pray for me.”

“She’s dead.”

“If she is in Heaven, she will pray for me.”

Psin sighed. “Of course you can go.”

“Thank you. I knew you would let me.”

“You shouldn’t think it’s wrong to submit to us. It’s wrong not to.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Thank you.”

Dmitri bowed and went off. Psin chewed his mustaches. Of all the people they had conquered he would have thought Dmitri the happiest. Dmitri had become so much a part of his household that Psin had almost forgot he was Russian. But now Dmitri said he was unhappy over it. He shook his head and went back to the room where Artai and Chan sat.

Tshant said, “How in God’s name do you think you’re going to do anything out here?” He flung his arms wide, and his eyes blazed. Beside him, Djela looked up in awe.

“Sit down,” Psin said. “Stop yelling. By the Yasa I am not permitted to live in the camp, but there’s no law against people coming out here.”

“A day’s ride from the center of the camp,” Tshant said. “We all live in the center of the camp—Quyuk, Mongke, everybody. You could have leapt out the window, couldn’t you? Taken the damned girl out into the garden to die? “

“The Yasa says—”

“The Yasa says that anyone under the same roof when someone dies is unclean. In the garden you wouldn’t have been under any roof at all. Except the sky. And that would make us all unclean.”

“Ada—”

“Sit down. Stay out of my way.”

Djela went over to sit next to Psin, and Tshant paced up and down. “I thought perhaps I could depend on my own father to—”

“What’s going on?”

“If you were capable, I’d say that you should wait and see.” Tshant sank down on his heels. “I’m fighting Quyuk.”

“You’re fighting Quyuk.”

“Yes. I don’t know why. I don’t know when it started. Since you came through here, from Hungary.”

“How?”

Tshant shrugged. “Whenever we’re all together, he manages to set me up against him. Anything I say he denies, everything he says I have to deny. Then he chops at me, so that all the others have to admit that I’m wrong.”

Psin wondered quickly if Tshant were imagining all this. He went to the masterpole and took down the skin hanging there and poured kumiss. Djela said, “Maybe we can live out here with Grandfather.”

“Be quiet,” Tshant said.

Psin handed him one of the bowls, gave another to Djela, and sat down again with the third in his hands. “When the fighting starts again there won’t be time for—”

Tshant’s head jerked toward the door. “Horses coming.”

“Djela, go see who they are.”

Djela got up. Through the open yurt door they could hear the frantic beating of several horses’ hoofs, and somebody called out sharply—Mongke. Psin rose.

“It’s my cousins,” Djela called. He leaned out the door. “Have you been hunting? What are you doing out here?”

Quyuk, bending to get through the door, swept Djela up and set him down again to one side. “We came to see your illustrious ancestor.” He was drunk. Behind him, crowding into the yurt, Buri, Kadan, Mongke and Kaidu were all drunk as well. They bellowed and clapped Psin on the back and made remarks about people who stayed around when other people were known to be dying; Buri with a skin of wine under one arm went around filling cups for them all. Tshant sat like a rock in the middle of a rushing stream.

“In-law,” Buri cried, and embraced Tshant noisily. “Dear husband of my father’s sister, glory of our clan.” Tshant shoved him hard, and Buri tripped backward and fell.

Quyuk was smiling with one side of his mouth. He presented his cap to Psin and drank. “How can we express the joy of having you back with us, Khan? Especially since you know and will surely tell us what Sabotai means to do, after we hold Kiev. Where do we go next, hmmmm?”