The Journeyer by Gary Jennings

Author:Gary Jennings
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-03-26T05:00:00+00:00

4

During the next several days, I was left on my own. I got unpacked and settled into my private quarters—with the help of Nostril, for I let the slave move in and lay his pallet in one of my more commodious closets—and I began to get acquainted with the twins Biliktu and Buyantu, and I began to learn my way around that central palace building and the rest of the edifices and gardens and courtyards that constituted the palace city-within-a-city. But I will speak later of how I spent my private time, because my working time also soon began.

One day a palace steward came to bid me attend upon the Khan Kubilai and the Wang Chingkim. The Khakhan's suite was not far from my own, and I went there with celerity, but not with much alacrity, for I assumed that he had learned of our visit to the dungeons and was going to castigate me and Chingkim for our having meddled in the Fondler's business. However, when I got there, and was bowed through a succession of luxurious chambers by a succession of attendants and secretaries and armed guards and beautiful women, and arrived at last in the Khakhan's innermost sitting room, and started my ko-tou, and was bidden to take a seat, and was offered my choice of beverages from a maid's tray laden with decanters, and took a goblet of rice wine, the Khakhan began the interview amiably enough, inquiring:

"How go your language lessons, young Polo?"

I tried not to blush, and murmured, "I have acquired numerous new words, Sire, but not of the kind I could speak in your august presence."

Chingkim said drily, "I did not think there were any words, Marco, that you would hesitate to speak in any place."

Kubilai laughed. "I had intended to converse politely for a while in the Han manner, rambling only indirectly to the subject at hand. But my rude Mongol son comes straight to the point."

"I have already made a vow to myself, Sire," I said, "that I will henceforth be careful of my too ready tongue and too abrupt opinions."

He considered that. "Well, yes, you might be more respectfully circumspect in your choice of words before you blurt them out. But I shall want your opinions. It is for those that I would have you become fluent and precise in our language. Marco, look yonder. Do you know what that thing is?"

He indicated an object in the center of the room. It was a giant bronze urn, standing some eight feet high and about half that in diameter. It was richly engraved, and on the outside of it clung eight lithe and elegant bronze dragons, their tails curled at the top rim of the urn, their heads downward near its base. Each one held in its toothed jaws an immense and perfect pearl. There were eight bronze toads squatting around the urn's pedestal, one under each dragon, its mouth gaping as if eager to snatch the pearl above.

"It is an impressive work of art, Sire," I said, "but I have no idea of its function.

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