Daughter of Xanadu - Dori Jones Yang [25]
Suren looked at me with concern. “Emmajin, you need to be careful.”
To break the tension, I jumped up, grabbed his sword, and raised it high above my head. It was even heavier than I had expected, and it wobbled in the air.
“Hai-yah! After the foreigners!” I ran into the woods, holding the sword high.
Suren chased me, to get his sword back. Swords are not meant for lighthearted play. But I couldn’t help myself. I did not want to think about dangerous foreigners.
To prepare for my next meeting with Marco, I tried to arm myself as if for battle. I didn’t want to be naive, as I had been on our first rendezvous. I had already given this foreigner a dagger he could use to threaten me if he wanted to manipulate me: the secret about my shooting down the eagle. I needed to find a way to win back the upper hand.
When I reported to my uncle, he clarified what kind of information he was looking for and asked me to learn some foreign words. He also warned me, “Next time, do not go so far away. Stay near other people.” It seemed sage advice.
A drip of sweat traced its way down my face. This time I had arranged to take Marco Polo to the Khan’s famous gardens. They were nearby and others would be there, but we would be meeting in the heat of the day, when most people slept. I needed to show confidence and wrestle some useful information out of the man.
That day, Marco looked nervous. “Emmajin Beki, good afternoon. I was not sure you would come.” His hands shifted and his eyebrows twisted.
“Why not?” We had arranged to meet at that hour.
“There are rumors that the Khan is displeased with the foreign visitors at court. I hope no one will advise the Khan against allowing me to entertain him tomorrow.”
“I see no reason for that,” I said, acting confident but wondering if I had missed something. What had he heard about the antiforeign movement?
He relaxed. “You will tell me, I hope, if I do something to earn his disfavor.”
It had not occurred to me before then that this foreign man might feel scared and vulnerable. He was alone, far from home, his life at the whim of the most powerful ruler in the world. That thought should have made me feel more in control, but instead, I was concerned.
We entered the Khan’s gardens through a back gate, a round opening in the long red wall that surrounded the garden. Marco’s arm brushed against mine as he pointed to the top of the wall, built to curve like the back of a dragon serpent. My arm tingled, and I stepped away, answering his question with stiff propriety.
The minute we stepped over the threshold into the gardens, the air felt cooler, with shade trees everywhere. In Fifth Moon, the gardens of Xanadu sparkled with brilliant colors. The tender green of the willow leaves contrasted with the dark green of the pines. Frothy pink and white blossoms adorned the fruit trees, and the azaleas were just starting to break out in vivid reds and purples.
Marco and I walked along a small man-made lake covered with large pale-pink water lilies. Delicate pavilions and stone pagodas rose at the ends of winding paths. Sparrows and swallows twittered and flitted from tree to tree. Like them, my heart was jittery. How could I act stiff and distant in such a lovely setting?
“Magnificent!” Marco gushed. “I have never seen such beauty.” He checked my face for my reaction to his compliments. I tried to keep from looking directly into his eyes.
As we walked, he asked me for the Mongolian names of various trees and flowers and birds. So this is how you learn foreign words, I thought. My uncle had asked me to study this man’s language, but I needed to find out more than the names of trees and birds.
Looking for a spot where I could question Marco without being heard, I led him up a stone staircase to a small six-sided pavilion, with benches around the inside. A chipmunk scurried away when we entered. The conversation would be like a wrestling match, and it was about to