Lords of Grass and Thunder Read Online Free PDF Page B

Her words put the ulus into Mergen’s hands again.
    “And grandson,” she greeted Prince Tayyichiut, “Take your ease with your old grandmother. You will be happy to know that the cooks have watched the dust of your horses drawing nearer since morning!”
    As khan, Mergen sat first, one leg tucked up under him and the other with the knee drawn up to his chin in front of him. Prince Tayy followed him and took the heir’s seat at his side. The boy could not help but suffer from the memory of times past when his father sat in Mergen’s place, with his beloved mother to hand as well. Mother and father both lay murdered now, but the ancient Bortu still greeted her grandson with a hug and a kiss for each cheek.
    “You must tell me about your adventures,” she said to both her male relatives. “And then we must dispose of these slaves you have brought me. There will be tents in need of men, but not so many. And as you will doubtless soon prove, fighting men require a great deal of feeding.”
    As she spoke, she clapped her hands. An army of servants waiting only for her signal marched into the great ger-tent carrying huge trays in their arms. Dish followed dish of the feast prepared for them. Mergen helped himself to sour yogurt made from mare’s milk, and a tangy cheese from the milk of sheep. Tea with butter followed, and Mergen’s favorite kumiss—beer fermented from mare’s milk. When Chimbai was khan, the servants had brought out thick-crusted pies filled with fat from the tail of a sheep first, but on this homecoming his mother had arranged for his own more humble favorites, rich with minced roots and meats, to greet him. Only when he had chosen one to his taste did the servants bring out the others, which Tayy preferred.
    Bortu laughed at the hopeful look that the prince was quick to hide. “Can you think the Great Mother of the khan would forget how to welcome a hero?” she asked him.
    Mergen was pleased to note that, though he colored like old wine, his heir didn’t hide his face but smiled to accept the teasing of his grandmother. He’d always been a steady boy. Your father would be proud of you, he thought. Your mother would berate me for not protecting you better. But such thoughts were better left for the light of Great Moon Lun, when regrets came home to live in dreams. In the warmth of Great Sun came pies that tasted like all the heavens of Bekter’s tales, and the company of clan and ulus to hold the questions at bay.
    As they ate, newcomers arriving from farther down the line of march took their places among the honorable company. Bolghai the shaman scampered down the aisle in the character of his totem animal, the skins of a dozen stoats flying out from around his neck as he danced. Beating a mischievous tattoo on his drum with a stick made from the thighbone of a roebuck, he asked the company a riddle. “A horse with three legs is whole,” he said with a flourish on his drum. The ulus, he meant, crippled without their khan, now healed by his return. Giving Mergen an approving nod, which the khan acknowledged with an answering tilt of his head, the shaman took his place below the dais. There he could enjoy the pies and drink among the second ranks while watching the comings and goings of the court.
     
     
     
    H ome. Prince Tayy gave Bolghai a preoccupied smile. He owed the shaman a lot—probably his life—but he couldn’t quite shake the conversation he’d overheard on the road between General Yesugei and the kahn.
    “Something is troubling you, grandson?”
    “Nothing important.” Tayy gave a little shrug, muttering curses in his head where he hoped his grandmother couldn’t hear them. Maintaining his court face while his thoughts wandered where they would used to be as natural as breathing to him. He was pretty sure that he had it in place now—politely attentive, with nothing deeper showing in his eyes than calculating his odds of snagging another pie. Lady Bortu easily saw through