“Much of modern Russia,” Marcia whispered almost inaudibly to Steve.
“From that land, they came here to see Kublai Khan,” Polo continued.
Hunter nodded, sipping his tea.
“When the khan heard of our religion, he asked them to return home and have the pope send a hundred men learned in Christianity back with them, along with oil from the sacred lamp at the sepulchre in Jerusalem.”
“Really?” Hunter asked politely. “Where were you during this time?”
“I was still in my youth. However, when my father and uncle returned, they invited me to travel back to China with them.”
“I see.”
“We took a couple of friars-the pope would not send a hundred-and some oil and started our journey.” Polo smiled and shook his head. “The friars turned back out of fear, and we could not stop them. But we brought the oil, and we have been in the khan’s empire ever since.”
Steve took a deep breath and fought his impatience. This was mildly interesting, but accomplished nothing he could see. As Polo and Hunter continued to talk, he whispered to Marcia in Chinese.
“Why doesn’t Hunter get to the point?” He spoke into her ear, still watching Polo and Hunter.
“This kind of slow exchange to get acquainted is part of business in this era,” she whispered back. “In fact, as a social mannerism, it lasts largely up to the middle of the twentieth century.”
“What’s going on?”
“Business is very personal in this time. Certainly Polo knows Hunter came to ask for a favor, and he wants to get a sense of who the stranger is before he asks what Hunter wants. And Hunter seems to know this.”
“Why doesn’t Polo ask first what Hunter wants, and then decide if he wants to help?”
“That’s considered rude.”
“Oh.”
“We’ll just have to wait.”
“If Polo continues to do most of the talking, though, I don’t see what he can learn about Hunter.” Steve straightened again and listened to Hunter and Polo.
“I have told my friends here a great deal about Europe and the lands between here and there,” said Hunter, nodding toward Steve and Marcia.
“Kublai Khan is the greatest man of our time,” said Polo. “Possibly of any time.”
“Don’t buy it,” Marcia whispered to Steve in Chinese. “Polo never saw the large picture.”
Steve remembered that when Marcia had first briefed the team, she had told them how the money had been devalued several times because the economy was poor. He also recalled that most serious crimes received the death penalty. This empire appeared prosperous, but economic mismanagement and rule by fear underlay life here.
The servants entered again, this time carrying two brass trays with dishes of steaming dumplings and noodles. They set the trays down on a large table and placed individual servings on small plates with chopsticks. Then they brought the servings to everyone.
Hunter and Polo resumed their conversation in Italian.
“Smells familiar,” Steve whispered to Marcia. “It even looks the same as in our time.”
“Much of the dim sum has been unchanged for centuries,” said Marcia.
“Wait a minute. How do you know?” Steve grinned. “Food doesn’t keep that long.”
“Old recipes are still on record,” said Marcia. She paused to blow on a hot dish. “Some dishes appear in paintings; relief sculpture; and book illustrations.”
“Well, here’s the real proof.” Steve paused to eat.
“I’m fascinated just by meeting Marco Polo,” said Marcia softly. “I just…”
“What?”
“I wish I could tell him about his book.”
Steve glanced over at Polo and Hunter. Polo was listening to Hunter’s story of their travels. Maybe they were making progress.
“What do you mean?” Steve whispered. “What do you want to tell him?”
“I wish I could tell him that after he returns to Italy, when the Genoese capture him in a war, not to worry. And that he’ll tell stories of his travels in prison to a writer who sets it all down.”
“He does it in prison?”
“Yes, as a prisoner of war. And I would warn him that much of what he says won’t be believed in his own time, or for many years afterward, but that it will finally become a timeless classic.”
“But you can’t. It might influence him in the wrong way, somehow. As Hunter would say, then everyone who ever read his book might be a little different, too. The changes could really add up.”
“I know.”
Jane walked through the streets of Khanbaliq between Wayne and Ishihara. Wayne had wanted to leave her behind in the village, but Ishihara, under the imperative of the First Law, had refused to leave her with the villagers. Now Wayne and Ishihara were searching again for MC 5.
Many of the villagers had accompanied them to Khanbaliq this morning. Some tended their market stall, but others had taken time away from the fields to visit the city with the good spirits who had come to their village. Wayne had sent the others to fan out around Khanbaliq in search of MC 5, but Xiao Li had remained with them.
Jane had been thinking about how to escape Ishihara. Here, where some of the blocks were relatively crowded, she could probably dart away suddenly and have some chance of losing herself in the crowd. Since he could not risk harming her, the idea of trying to escape had become more attractive now that they were back in Khanbaliq in daylight instead of out in the forest at night.
However, she also saw several problems with this plan. For one, she had nowhere to go. She figured that Hunter and the rest of the team were either looking for her back on the road to the Great Wall, or else they were riding back to Khanbaliq.
Even if Hunter had decided to return to the sphere and come right back to Khanbaliq, she had no idea where in the city the team was now. The only meeting place they had used was the inn where they had spent the first night, but the team would not be waiting there at this time of day. Presumably, they would be out looking for her and MC 5.
Another problem was that she was so obviously a foreign visitor. She expected that if she ran, Wayne would order Ishihara to shout to all the people on the street in Chinese that she had to be captured. Since Wayne was also of European descent, she supposed that onlookers would assume they were together. For Wayne’s purposes, any excuse to stop her would do, perhaps that she was crazed or drunk or even a thief. She could not outrun everybody.
Further, if her captors did not enlist the help of other people, the last problem was that Ishihara would inexorably follow her. She would gradually tire, while the sun replenished his solar converters with energy. Sooner or later, unless she had a safe haven very close, he would catch her again.
Finally, after she had attempted to run away, Ishihara would probably hold her arm continuously in the future. That meant she realistically had only one chance. In order to have a reasonable likelihood of success, she would have to wait until a particularly good opportunity developed. The best chance would come if she saw Hunter and the team somewhere on the street.
When Polo had seen that all his guests were well fed, he invited them into his study. Steve, holding his teacup, followed Polo and Hunter with Marcia at his side. The male servant waited outside the room, ready to be summoned.
Long wooden tables with intricately carved sides and legs lined the study. All were cluttered with a variety of objects. Steve saw scrolls of paper, Chinese ink sticks and brushes, and brass and porcelain bottles.