Iron Winter by Stephen Baxter

Author:Stephen Baxter [Baxter, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, General, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780575089280
Publisher: Roc
Published: 2012-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

41

Avatak learned that the capital of Mongol Cathay had several names, given it by the many peoples who lived and worked here. The Turks called it Khanbalikh, which was a rendering of the phrase ‘city of the Khans’. The folk of Cathay called it Ta-tu, which meant ‘great capital’. The Mongols themselves had adopted the Cathay name, ‘Daidu’.

On the day they arrived, thanks to Pyxeas’ paiza they were escorted safely through scrubby outer suburbs, through gates in a double layer of city walls, and into the city itself – and Avatak, who had seen too many wonders during the long journey, was overwhelmed once more. Daidu was huge, clean, bright, opulent and luxurious. Even the roofs of the lesser buildings, lacquered and glazed, were visions in brightly coloured green and yellow and blue that seemed to float in the air. Thinking about what a Mongol city might be like, Avatak had vaguely imagined a huddle of yurts – tremendous yurts, perhaps, made of expensive felt encrusted with jewels and set on golden platforms, but yurts nonetheless. Uzzia told him that the capital of Genghis himself, the first great conqueror, called Karakorum, had not been altogether unlike that vision. But Daidu was different. Kublai Khan had eschewed his ancestors’ habits of burning down cities, and had built his own to match the best.

They were given three days’ rest before they would have to meet the scholar Pyxeas had come so far to speak to, and a small apartment near the western city wall to rest in. Avatak chose the smallest, plainest room he could find. Even so the couches were so soft he felt as if he was drowning when he lay on them. So he unrolled his own blankets on the carpeted floor, and slept away most of two days.

On the third day he found a sanctuary that would take the mule. It was a place where sentimental and wealthy Mongols retired their favourite ponies. It wasn’t cheap, but Uzzia said she was happy to pay. The mule was dismissive of the whole affair.

On the fourth day they were summoned to the Khan’s palace.

Pyxeas insisted they dress as smartly as they could.

Uzzia had somehow preserved a decent set of clothes through the vicissitudes of the journey, even the robbery. But she stuck to her own style. She wore a tunic and breeches with a wide belt and boots with turned-up toes, the way a Hatti prince might dress in New Hattusa, but she pinned back her hair with a golden comb, and applied cosmetics to her face, a white base with bright red spots on forehead and cheeks. Avatak couldn’t help but stare at the result, and she grinned. ‘I am what I am,’ she said. ‘I am Hatti. I am Uzzia. I like to show both sides.’

Pyxeas and Avatak wore clothes loaned by their hosts. Avatak found himself in a brightly coloured blouse and breeches, and a round felt hat. The material felt impossibly soft against his skin. Pyxeas dressed similarly, but oddly the clothes fit Avatak better.

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