Free Until the Sun Falls by Cecelia Holland Page A

cause you trouble,” Tshant said. “My cousins like women, I’m told.”
    “I’ll tend to Chan.”
    Tshant scratched his nose, smiling. “I’m sure you will.”
    “Your men are camped in the point of land where the rivers meet. You’ll have trouble finding remounts.”
    “I’ll need a Russian-speaking slave.”
    “Your thousand-commanders will get you one.”
    “Good. I’m taking Djela.”
    “I think you’re a fool.”
    “Nonetheless. You took me fighting when I was his age.”
    Psin stood up. “I think I was a fool. I took Tulugai and Kinsit along with me to Khwaresm. Where are they now?”
    “They did not die in Khwaresm.”
    “Still.” Psin turned his back on Tshant. He hadn’t thought of Tulugai and Kinsit for some while. They had died in China. “They learned too young not to be afraid. Fear keeps a man alive, I think. In ways.”
    “The ways aren’t worthy of us. They were in the Kha-Khan’s service. They could expect to die.”
    Psin clenched his teeth. Heat in waves flowed over him. He kept still, staring, waiting for Tshant to say one thing more. It occurred to him that he mightn’t be so angry if he had thought more often of his dead sons. “When you lose one, you’ll know better than that.”
    Tshant’s chair scraped against the floor. Psin could hear him stand up.
    “I lost a son and a daughter before they could draw breath,” Tshant said. His voice came from near the door. “I don’t mean to lose this one. Djela is mine, and I’ll do what I think I should with him.”
    The door slammed. Psin whirled. He was alone in the room. His blood heated, and he took a step toward the door. Through the window he heard a horse’s hoofs pounding frantically in the courtyard.
    Tulugai and Kinsit had looked like him: big, stocky, awkward in their youth. When they had talked to him their respect had filled him up with satisfaction. They had never fought him. He turned and kicked the chair across the room.
     
    He kept Tshant and Mongke away from each other easily enough; their troops were camped on opposite sides of the city. Mongke reported that he would be able to leave the next morning. Tshant’s men had trouble getting horses and Psin didn’t think they would leave Bulgar before he himself did.
    Djela and Psin spent most of the afternoon with Dmitri, learning Russian. Djela was full of excited stories about his ride. He said, “And I’m going raiding with Ada, too. He said so.”
    Dmitri frowned. “You’re young, noyon.”
    “Not so young. Am I, Grandfather?”
    “Young enough.”
    “Can Dmitri go with me?”
    “No. Dmitri’s going with me to Novgorod.”
    From the tail of his eye Psin saw Dmitri’s small start and smiled. “Where are you from, Dmitri?”
    Dmitri said, “Riazan, my Khan.”
    Psin looked away from him and pretended to listen to Djela. Dmitri was from the north, somewhere, but from what city he had never said. Riazan wasn’t in the north.
    That night Mongke of his own accord ate with his troops. Djela, Tshant, Kaidu and Psin ate in Psin’s house.
    “They will know me before we reach the Dnepr,” Tshant said, when Psin asked about his men. “They’re good enough, but they need a strong hand.”
    “Take Kaidu with you,” Psin said. “You might find him useful.”
    Kaidu exhaled hard, as if his breath had been pent up. His eyes burnt. “Thank you. I want to go.”
    Djela looked tired; he leaned his head on Tshant’s chest and shut his eyes. Tshant put one arm around him. Psin thought of saying something, but Tshant’s heavy eyes looked too much as if he expected it. “You know what I want you to do,” Psin said. He signed to Dmitri, who was pouring the wine.
    “Yes,” Tshant said. “You want to know the country as well as a man born to it, and all without stepping your horse’s hoof on it yourself.” He reached for his cup. “I’ll do it. I may have trouble, with the horses in the condition they’re in.”
    “Are they unsound, or