Until the Sun Falls by Cecelia Holland Read Free Book Online Page A

bolt. Djela wrestled with it, sawed on the reins, and the horse backed up in a rush. Tshant caught the rein. “Mordvins. We must be near the Volga camp.” He led the horse through the lumps of frozen men, mounted up behind Djela, and kicked the horse into a trot. 
     
     

 
     
     
    Psin and Mongke reached Bulgar in the forenoon , three days after they left the Volga camp, and in the midafternoon Psin had all the troops camped around the city turned out for inspection. Quyuk, the Kha-Khan’s eldest living son, was in command of Bulgar; he rode beside Psin along the lines of the five tumans drawn up before the walls.
    “They’re badly mounted,” Psin said. The Mongols rode native stock, smaller than Psin was used to, and very long in the back. The tumans in their rows stretched out across the plain, countless heads bobbing, countless eyes turned on him and Quyuk. Behind them the iron-blue shoulders of the hills rose against the unclouded sky.
    “I think you’ll find them adequate,” Quyuk said carelessly. He pointed to three rows of horsemen grouped around a banner with a two-headed dragon. “Those served under you in Korea, I think.”
    “Mongke’s honor guard. Yes.”
    The wind was right in Psin’s face, cold and edged with coming snow. A horse neighed and a thousand others answered. “What kind of condition are they in?”
    Quyuk shrugged one shoulder. His horse skittered sideways and he clubbed it over the ears with his fist. “They’ve done little fighting since the spring. But they race their horses, and they patrol along the river. That’s where the other two tumans are now.”
    Psin glanced at him. Quyuk rode a much better horse than any of the troops’. Psin decided it was a crossbred, half native and half Mongol. He kicked up his horse and cantered along the line, returning the salutes. At the end of the line he wheeled his horse, so that when Quyuk caught up with him they were facing each other, their horses shoulder to shoulder.
    “Any of the Altun who wish it may come with me,” Psin said. “When I ride to Novgorod.”
    “We are all honored by the invitation, of course,” Quyuk said. He reached for the jug on his saddle.
    “Perhaps I’m not making myself clear,” Psin said. “If I take it upon myself to nursemaid a pack of well-bred savages, I expect rather more than being told they are honored.”
    Quyuk’s great brows flew together. “No. Perhaps you aren’t making yourself clear, Merkit.”
    Psin smiled at him. “You are coming with me, Quyuk. You and your brother and your cousins. All but Batu’s brothers. Is that clear enough?”
    “I don’t wish to. Is that also clear?”
    “It’s irrelevant, Quyuk.”
    “You can’t give me orders.”
    “Oh? I think I can. I think I will.”
    Quyuk’s hand darted toward his belt, but Psin, expecting it, clamped his fingers around Quyuk’s wrist. Quyuk’s face was bright red and his eyes glittered. He shot a quick glance at the watching army and twisted his arm, but Psin only squeezed harder. He didn’t think Quyuk would cry out. Looking over his shoulder, Psin saw that the men around them noticed nothing. Quyuk strained, and Psin tightened his fingers. He heard a rasp, like a bone grating on another bone, and Quyuk’s lips trembled with pain.
    “Do I make myself clear, Quyuk?”
    Quyuk’s eyes looked slippery. He blinked at the tears. “Let me go.”
    Psin twisted his wrist. Quyuk’s mouth jerked open and he gasped.
    “Do I make myself clear?”
    “Yes.”
    Psin let him go. “Good. I look forward to this raid.” He saluted the armies, and their arms flew up in answer, all across the plain, five tumans of arms. Reining his horse he galloped back toward the city. Temujin was probably shaking in Heaven over this treatment of his grandchildren. But while he rode through the gate he changed his mind. Temujin was probably laughing.
    He rode straight to the house that Quyuk had set aside for him and Mongke, put up his horse and