Daughter of Xanadu - Dori Jones Yang [97]
Maybe our ruler, wise and far-thinking, would grant my wish.
Late that afternoon, a servant rushed into my family’s compound, where I was resting. “Empress Chabi wishes to see Princess Emmajin.”
After changing into my best del, I nearly ran to the Empress’s private chambers. I was filled with hope. I had been mulling over my plan, refining it and rehearsing what I would say. This would give me the chance to tell my grandmother about it and see if she would help me convince the Khan. I needed an answer soon, before I had to report back to Abaji.
My plan was ambitious, bold. I needed a strong ally.
But that was not to be. As it happened, I was not to meet with just the Empress. From her chambers, a servant led me into a part of the palace I had never entered before—the Great Khan’s private courtyard, his personal residence.
As I waited for the servant to announce my presence, I was breathing hard. What could this mean? I heard the Great Khan’s voice within. My heart jumped. Perhaps Chabi had arranged an opportunity for me to speak to my grandfather about my future.
Quickly, I had to think of a new plan. I would have no chance to enlist Chabi’s support. Still, I needed to make the most of this opportunity. I had rehearsed these words, and now I would be able to to speak them.
Chabi’s advice came to me: Return to the world. Make a difference.
I tried to call up the calm certainty I had felt in the monastery. I would be face to face with the leader of the largest empire in history. When I was a child, he had indulged me. But now I was grown, a soldier, and must do whatever he commanded. I silently asked Tara for strength and clear words. I fingered the amulet in my sash.
When my name was called, I threw back my shoulders and entered the Khan’s private sitting room. The Khan sat in a wide wooden chair, with Empress Chabi at his left. I was relieved to see her gentle moon-shaped face.
Between them was a small table for porcelain Chinese-style teacups, each with its own lid. Chabi gave me a small smile and nodded encouragement.
I kowtowed, despite the informal setting. The Khan ordered me to rise and sit next to him, on his right. Close-up, he looked ruddy and well, after two months of hunting in the open air. His feet were propped on silken cushions but did not seem swollen.
A servant poured boiled water over dried leaves in our porcelain cups. This drink, tea, was a kind of fragrant water the Chinese loved. Not many Mongols liked it. Bayan had probably brought some fine tea leaves back from the South.
“Well, my child, you fought well at Vochan.” The Great Khan began with a statement, not a question. In this setting, he used the informal language of family.
I nodded, showing the proper humility.
“General Abaji told me you killed hundreds.”
I winced but nodded acknowledgment. It was high praise, the kind that would once have made me feel elated.
“I had doubted that a girl could rise to the occasion. In fact, I thought it impossible.”
Finally, I found my voice. “I hope I proved myself worthy.”
The Khan smiled. “I look forward to hearing the full story about the battle. I have asked that Latin, Messer Marco, to tell it to me and my men.”
My heart jumped. “Has he returned?”
His narrow eyes scanned my face, as if he was trying to read my thoughts. “Not yet. He will arrive within a few days. I hear you helped him capture live dragons.”
Remembering the scene made me smile. But my smile faded, since Suren was so closely associated with those memories. I swallowed. “Messer Marco believes that medicine made of dragon