Free Daughter of Xanadu by Dori Jones Yang

frowned. “Bans them? The Khan would never do that.”
    “You haven’t heard? Some men at court want to get rid of the foreigners,” Temur said. “Several of the princes and military leaders are starting an antiforeign movement, trying to convince the Khan that their presence at court is dangerous.”
    Suren frowned. “How can foreigners be dangerous if they are weak?”
    “They are clever. They write in strange script and send our secrets back to their homelands. They manipulate people. The movement is seeking evidence of treachery.”
    I had never heard of this antiforeign movement. I wondered if Temur was exaggerating. Still, I realized I knew little about the many factions at court.
    Suren shook his head. “My foreigner seems friendly enough.”
    “Of course, they all do,” Temur said. “Don’t get taken in. They want you to forget about loyalty. We have to show how strong we are—not just our arms but our minds.”
    This idea made sense. Joining an army of men would take a strong mind. But this antiforeign movement sounded just as dangerous as the foreigners.
    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.

T o 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, goodafternoon. 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