by Lizzy Ford
I was alone until sometime around sunset, when Chaghan returned with his commanders and several others for another feast around the fire in the middle of the mushroom tent.
Tomeid brought me more … milk. No food, just lukewarm, thick milk. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t a pizza either. After a day in a pain-filled haze, I straightened to listen to the men talking for clues about where I could go or anything else that might help me.
“Goddess, if I may disturb you.” Batu’s cousin spoke as he approached.
I opened my eyes and gazed up at him.
Taking the acknowledgement as permission, he sat down in front of me, accompanied by a man dressed much as Mahmood had been.
“This is The Persian,” he said and indicated the dark-skinned stranger with one hand. “He is related by marriage to the royalty of the Golden Horde.”
“It is a pleasure,” the Persian said and bowed his head, one hand going to his heart. He was around my age with solemn features – but a gleam in his eyes that warned me he was more than he let on. “Khulutei has told me you are divine among his people.” He appeared curious, willing to meet my gaze where Mahmood and the Arab merchant I first met weren’t. “You came from the moon?”
I glanced at Khulutei, sensing I wasn’t able to tell anyone the truth about me. “He is a scholar and a storyteller,” Batu’s cousin explained. “He travels the Empire to record events.”
In a world without internet, Khulutei sounded like the closest thing they had to a blogger.
“Not from the moon exactly,” I said. “But I am from a different place.”
“What is it like?” The Persian asked. “Plains? Desert?”
“From near the ocean,” I replied, mind on my home in southern California.
“A sea,” Khulutei repeated. “Better than the moon.”
I raised an eyebrow in puzzlement.
“The sea and moon are feminine,” The Persian explained. “When you fell from the sky, they thought the moon sent you to guide them the way it lights their path at night. They call this guidance the White Path, for the moon will show them the way with her white light when the night is too dark to navigate. The sea and water are equally sacred, the blood and essence of the living earth. They will associate you with both now, I believe.”
He definitely had a way with words. I didn’t notice my pain when he spoke. I was fascinated by his flowery explanation.
“Your eyes are of the sea, not the sky,” Khulutei said as if proud of himself for figuring out the mystery of me. “I must tell my uncle.” He rose and hurried away.
“Is it that important?” I asked The Persian, watching Khulutei’s retreat.
“To them it is.” There was mild humor in the response.
I returned my attention to the storyteller.
“I cannot explain your appearance or likeness or how you are the same now as reported many years before except that the one true God made it possible,” he added. “It is their way, not ours.”
“Will that get you in trouble?” I asked.
“No. I do not agree with many of the Empire’s ways, but they do allow their people to worship what god or gods they please. In their capitols, the mosques of my god sit beside the churches of the Crusaders and the altars of the lotus worshippers. There is no common tongue or god to unite them. The Empire is held together by power, obedience and the wealth that trade along the Silk Route brings.”
Even Carter’s historical summaries paled when compared to the elegant yet simple views of The Persian.
“I heard what they planned to do to you,” he added more quietly. “There is much barbarism to these people, despite all they have done to pacify and extend the trade routes.”
“Yeah, there is,” I agreed, thoughts on the battle in the city. “What makes you stay with them to document their history?”
“I am a scholar. My heart is in knowledge, in exploring the unknown.” He offered a small smile. “I also defied my cousin, who is destined to be a prince ruler and am living in exile. The Empire does not discriminate. If you have a skill they value, they will adopt and reward you for service. There were no written records before the great Genghis, but the Empire wishes its history of taking over the world to be known forever. They value those who can write their stories.”
I didn’t expect the honest response. He was friendly, if a little reserved, which seemed pretty common for many of the people I’d met. As much as I didn’t want a connection to anyone here, it was also nice to really talk to someone.
“My uncle requests you,” Khulutei called to The Persian.
“Please excuse me,” he said and stood. “God willing, we will speak again.”
I watched him go, warmed some by the short talk with someone who appeared almost normal by my twenty first century standards.
Then again, the last time I found someone normal, he turned out to be a time traveler like me. My smile faded. Uncertain what to think, I turned my back to the room and focused once more on not letting the pain cloud my mental thought process.
At some point, I dozed off and awoke some time later, curled on my side by the wall of the tent and covered by a blanket. My head wasn’t yet right, and the pain of my arms was warm and throbbing.
The forms in the tent were passed out sleeping around the fire. Not only that, but wind pushed the entrance flap open enough to show me the sky was beginning to lighten with sunrise.
Dammit. Overslept. I rose and took a moment to balance before walking around the snoring, sleeping men who appeared to have drunk themselves unconscious. With any luck, Chaghan was among them and wouldn’t wake up any time soon.
Stepping into the predawn morning, I paused to orient myself. There was a chill in the air, along with a current of warmth that told me it was going to end up a nice day. The tent’s entrance faced east, which I took as a good sign, considering the river was to the east as well. There were dozens of tents standing between me and the river, but the encampment appeared quiet, as if the celebrations last night of their victory meant everyone was sleeping in.
I wasn’t fully steady on my feet, and anything more than a walk jarred my arms painfully. Wrapping them around me, I hurried towards the east, hoping to beat the sun’s ascent to the horizon. The white-yellow strip preceding dawn lined the sky, and night was beginning to make way for day.
What I took to be a couple dozen tents turned into close to a hundred. I wove among them towards the sunrise, my step quickening as fast as I could tolerate. Not more than fifteen minutes later, I broke free of the tents and reached an open space filled with thousands of horses along the river I could barely see through their bodies. At any other time, I would stop to pet every single animal I ran across.
But today, I didn’t have time. If I stopped to admire their soft fur or rub their foreheads, I’d end up dead. I did, however, trace my fingers along the backs or rumps of those I passed and admired them. The steppe horses were closer to the size of ponies, hardy and muscular with long, tangled manes and tails. They appeared to be well socialized; none of them freaked out or startled when I passed, and two started following me towards the river.
I was holding out hope for a boat or bridge or something, but the minute I reached the riverbank, my heart sank.
There was nothing. It wasn’t just this that left me upset; it was the width of the river. I didn’t know enough about where I was to identify which river it was, but it was huge. Slow moving and far too wide to swim. Already, I was mentally going through the dangers of attempting to cross it. Potential undercurrents, fatigue, becoming tangled on the loose debris floating in it. For all I knew, there were piranhas or alligators or other animals that might smell my bloody arms and attack me.
I sighed deeply, and tears stung my eyes. I had a couple of choices. One was to turn back and try to reason with a madman. Another was to throw myself into the river and hope I didn’t die. Maybe it would take me downstream … I looked in both directions. There was nothing out here. Smoke rose
to the sky from the direction of the burning city, and I saw no villages or anywhere I could hide downstream.
It’d be suicidal. Yet I was doomed to die anyway if I stayed.
Thus far, I’d been lucky enough to survive my adventures. I could pray that my luck held and simply … go for it.
Heart hammering, I slid my slippers off and stripped down to a single layer of the silk gowns. The tiara I kind of liked and thought maybe I could sell if I had to, so I left it pinned in place.
“What do you do, goddess?” Batu’s voice made me jump.
“Don’t scare me like that!” I snapped automatically, my whole system jolted. He was the last person I wanted to see at the moment. “If you’re here to take me back so your uncle can bleed me to death, I won’t go!” I started into the river, pausing when the chilly water reached my calves.
I really didn’t want to do this. My instincts were screaming at me.
“My uncle is wrong.”
I hesitated to go further, eyes on a dead animal or something floating down the river.
“You seek to take your life?” he asked almost curiously.
Twisting to look at him, I was surprised to discover he wasn’t wielding his sword and ready to drag me back. He was seated on the bank, elbows draped over his knees, dark gaze on me. He seemed curious rather than concerned despite claiming to be my guardian.
I did not get this guy.
“What do you care?”
He tossed me something.
I caught it. It was a small, sheathed knife.
“Death is assured with a knife,” he said.
I pulled it free and gazed at the short, fat blade. No part of me could stomach the idea of cutting myself. I’d never been suicidal, never thought twice about stabbing myself. The only reason I’d put my life in danger now was because I’d rather do it myself and risk getting away than face Chaghan again.
“I’d think it’d be painful,” I said with a shudder.
“You will die faster this way.”
“Wait a minute. Do you want me to die?” I demanded.
“I respect your wishes.”
I faced him, glaring at him. Batu was relaxed, dressed like a warrior rather than a prisoner. He didn’t seem at all concerned, which left me baffled after the effort he went to in order to find and save me in the castle.
“Aren’t you supposed to protect me?” I asked him.
“I am. I dishonored you by leaving you with my uncle. If this is what you must do to restore your honor, then so be it.”
I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t … I don’t … I mean, I won’t purposely kill myself. Your uncle is an asshole. He did this.” I held up my arms. “He was going to do worse today. I figured I’d come to the river and … escape.” I gazed around me again. “Somehow. And if I drowned in the attempt, then I drown.”
“You do not wish to die, ugly one,” he said. This time, there was amusement in his tone. I didn’t know what he found funny about this.
“How would you know?” I grumbled. My feet were cold enough that I wanted out of the water, yet leaving the river felt like a defeat in the strange game I was playing with Batu.
He indicated my shoes and pile of silk dresses. “Men who wish to drown keep their boots on for added weight.”
I almost sighed. He was right. Even believing I could possibly throw myself to my death, I was subconsciously working against the idea. “So maybe I’m not the kind of person to risk it,” I allowed. “Do you want to kill me quickly instead of turning me over to your uncle to be bled to death?”
“Give me the knife and we will find out.”
I froze. I instinctively knew taking my shoes off would help me survive, and I instinctively hid the knife behind my back rather than obey.
Batu laughed at me. “Again, Moonbeam, I ask. What do you do?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted miserably. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Then let me help you.”
I frowned at the man I’d seen kill dozens in the span of a half an hour. “You’d defy your uncle? Khulutei wouldn’t.”
“Khulutei is not your guardian. My duty is a sacred honor granted by the great Khan alone and cannot be revoked. Come with me.” He stood.
“I’ve seen what you do to those around you. No one is left standing. Your speech about wolves eating lambs didn’t help, either. Why should I trust you?”
“Because you do not want to die, and I do not currently wish to kill you,” he replied. “What other choice do you have?”
I glanced downstream once more. I’d never survive that. Yet I didn’t think Batu was helping me out of the goodness of his heart, either. I did have the sense he didn’t want me dead, or he wouldn’t have stood between the palace guards and me the day we met.
“What is your plan?” I asked and folded my arms across my chest.
“To take you to my ger first, so he cannot find you. Then I will confront him.”
“And if he insists on bleeding me?”
“It will not come to that.”
I wasn’t entirely convinced he’d sway or keep his uncle at bay. But, given my circumstances, I didn’t seem to have much choice anyway. I needed a much better plan than this one. Hiding in his tent would give me more time to think.
“I’ll go with you,” I said grudgingly.
“Very wise, goddess.” The way he said it made me think he thought the opposite.
There was something really vexing about Batu. I didn’t understand his manner of thinking or why he seemed like the happiest, most murderous Mongol I could imagine.
He started away from the river.
With some reluctance, I left the water, gathered my things and trailed. His tent wasn’t too far from the horse herd. Not that I was able to tell any of the mushrooms apart, but it was in the second row from the horses.
Smaller than his uncle’s, it was nonetheless cozy, warm and rendered comfortable with rugs and pillows on the floor. A collection of weapons lay on one blanket near his bed, as if he’d been cleaning them.
I dropped the mess in my arms on the floor near a pole. Standing, I stepped back, not expecting him to be in my space already. He moved quietly despite his size, and I had a flashback to the castle, when he’d overpowered me with little more than a pinky.
Unaware of my thoughts, he took one wrist and flipped it towards the ceiling. He began to unwrap the bandages. He was close enough for me to smell him once more, and I recalled with butterflies in my belly the way he’d brought me back from the brink in the castle.
“What’re you doing?” I asked.
“Assessing what he has done to you.” He tossed the bandages into the fire and studied the inside of my forearm.
I didn’t want to look. Images of them sawing off my arm after I contracted gangrene from the poor sanitary environment flashed through my head.
“They are not deep,” he said and lifted my arm.
I winced and peered at it. Stripes three inches long marred my arm every inch or so. The cut in the palm appeared the deepest and angriest.
Okay, so I’ll only have my hand sawed off. The thought made my breath catch. I tugged my hand away and stepped back.
Batu snatched it back.
“I don’t want to assess the damage!” I told him.
“It must be done, if I am to request permission for punishment.”
“What’re you talking about?”
He eyed me and took my other wrist, unwrapping the bandages. “The punishment for hurting or stealing or other crimes against another in the Empire is nine times the crime. You are given special protections. To punish a man of my uncle’s standing, I must know exactly what to request.”
“So you’re going to ask for permission to knife him?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“You killed forty people without permission!”
“They were not Mongol.”
The simple logic rendered me speechless. It never occurred to me they had rules in a so
ciety such as this or that, having rules, they’d follow them.
He glanced at me, and there was a sparkle in his dark eyes. He found me funny. Or maybe he laughed at everything. I didn’t know him well enough to know. I wanted to think being so close to a barbarian like him was causing my stomach to churn but … meeting his gaze, I began to think there was some other reason I was distracted by his scent and low, gravelly voice.
Aware of his long look, I kept my gaze on my arm.
It’s not possible for me to like someone like this. I had seen him lop off ears and heads with no more concern than someone peeling bananas. This world … it could never become mine. What if I don’t have a choice?
The reminder that I had no way home, no way to communicate with someone who could help me, rattled me.
“You were going to swim with no clothes but a crown,” he observed.
“I like the crown.”
“It suits you.” He flicked the pearl on my forehead with a forefinger. “Every goddess should wear a crown.”
“I’m not a goddess, but I’m keeping the crown after all this.”
“You speak your mind freely.”
Looking up at him, I searched his features, wanting to know if this was a bad thing or not. Carter had given me very general information about social norms and protocols for this time period and said not much else was known, specifically about how women were expected to act. After seeing Ghoajin smack down her husband a few times, I figured there was more leeway here to speak my mind than there had been in the eighteen forties.
But I didn’t know for sure. The answer wasn’t on Batu’s features, though I realized somewhat uneasily if he wanted me to act a certain way, he had the muscular body and ferocity to make it happen. I didn’t always check my speech, because I was from a time and place where I was accustomed to saying what I pleased to whomever I wanted.
“This one is deep.” He rested his hand on my forearm.
I jerked.
“Be still, goddess.” He rolled my arm over. One of the stripes went all the way around. Shallow on the top of my forearm, the two edges of the cut didn’t meet on the soft underside.