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

went inside. Mongke was in the main room, sprawled naked on a couch, red wine at his elbow and fluffy cakes in a dish on the floor beside him. Kaidu in a silk tunic painted with flowers paced up and down, talking about the fighting against the Kipchaks. Psin recognized him by his resemblance to Batu, who was Kaidu’s grandfather. Psin stopped in the doorway and listened. Kaidu hadn’t heard or seen him, but Mongke’s eyes flickered in Psin’s direction and he smiled.
    “Have you met Psin yet?” Mongke asked Kaidu.
    “No. But I saw him when he rode out with Quyuk. He’s fat.”
    Mongke laughed. “No. Unfortunately. He’s just very big. My father told me once that Psin Khan is the worst general and the best soldier in our armies. Come inside, Psin, and have something to drink.”
    Kaidu whirled. Psin went into the room and sat down with his back to the fire. “Tuli always mixed things up. I’m a terrible soldier, but I make a passable general.”
    Mongke laughed genially. His eyes were bleary with malice. “How did you find the society of my dear cousin?”
    “I cracked his wrist for him, I think.” Psin studied Kaidu. The boy was lanky, but he moved without awkwardness. “All the Altun are to ride out with me to Novgorod.”
    “Oh?” Kaidu said. He turned his head toward Mongke. “What does Quyuk say about that?”
    Psin pulled off his felt socks. “He’s overcome with joy.”
    “With a cracked wrist.” Kaidu laughed. “I’d love to have seen that.”
    “I heard you talking about the Kipchaks. Have you fought them recently?”
    “No. And I’m sick of being caged up here. Quyuk won’t let me do any of the things the others do to pass the days.”
    Psin smiled. Kaidu reminded him of himself at that age. He did like him. “They don’t have their women here, I noticed.”
    Mongke shook his head. “We all left our wives in Karakorum to keep watch on Ogodai and Jagatai, and who would bring concubines out here, when there are so many ready to hand? My wife at least is better equipped to handle my uncles than I am, and I know Quyuk’s is.”
    “My wife is in the Volga camp,” Kaidu said.
    “You live here,” Mongke said. “How do you like that wine, Psin?”
    “I’m an old man and my tastes take a while to change.” The wine was strong and sweet. “I think I can learn to enjoy it.” He finished off his third cup.
    Mongke smiled. “Well, then. It comes from the land west of Kiev—Hungary. A good reason to go fighting there.” 
    “Who needs reasons?” Kaidu said.
    Psin laughed and got up. “You’ll excuse me—I’m learning Russian this afternoon.”
    “Are you going to Quyuk’s house for dinner?” Mongke said.
    “Yes.”
    Mongke grinned. “Excellent.”
     
    Psin spent all afternoon repeating Russian sentences. Dmitri, his slave, took great pleasure in his new employment; he was rapidly acquiring the mannerisms of the teachers Psin remembered from his childhood. When Psin couldn’t hear the difference between two sounds, Dmitri scowled and clucked his tongue, paced up and down a few strides, and with an air of great patience settled down again to repeat the words, over and over.
    “The horse is in the field,” Psin said. “The horse was in the field. The horse will be in the—what is it?”
    The slave at the door bowed. “The kumiss, Khan.”
    “Bring it in.”
    “The horse…” Dmitri said softly.
    “The horse gallops on the plain.” The slave set a jug of kumiss on the table. Psin pointed to Dmitri and to the jug, and Dmitri took a cup from a shelf and poured the kumiss. “The horse galloped on the plain. The horse will gallop on the—” Psin took the cup and drained it. “Plain.”
    Dmitri muttered something in Russian, and Psin said, “What?”
    “I said, Heaven help the Christians before a man who learns so fast.”
    “Christians.”
    “Yes.” Dmitri put the word through its paces. Psin repeated it after him. Dmitri growled the r in his throat, insistently,