Giant spacebat, giant spacebat... Завернул в ковер и унес
одна из концовок Silver TreeI confronted the Emissary
The invading forces must have come from Cathay, from the most belligerent branch of the Khan's family. The Emissary wanted to strike a deal with the Khan to take his city intact. How better to do that than engineer a siege and make him fear its destruction? But I believed the Khan could hold Karakorum. So I went to the Emissary, who was still lounging in the Palace, to stop him poisoning the Khan's mind with his offers. I could still influence the city's fate. But on my way, I collected an ally...
Mr Wines
The Emissary is happy, although the Khan has not given in yet. 'You've seen it already,' he chuckles. 'Karakorum won't die. The Khan will sell his city because he loves it. It's his crowning glory. Of course it should endure. We - the Echo Bazaar - we are good to the cities we collect. The Silver Tree will still be standing in a thousand years.
'We will take good care of the Princess Cheren,' he goes on. 'She will continue her life's work. I myself am particularly concerned with wines and liqueurs. In fact, you may call me by my true name, now: Mr Wines, at your service! We will get along splendidly, Cheren and I.
'I will show her the places where the Third City's rivers flowed. I will hand her necklaces from the Second, in the shape of snakes. I will show her the crossroads shaded by cedars and she will understand.
'But what to do with you?' He cackles softly. 'You have a choice to make, my friend. Will you come with us? Down beneath the Earth, where marvels and long life await? Or will you take your chances on the long, dusty road back to Rome?'
I make my decision. I motion to the morin khuur player, and he strikes up a mournful melody. The horsehead fiddle is potent; the Cloaked Emissary sways, drugged by the music, and I push him over and roll him up in the carpet. He is light, so light; as if his bones are hollow and he is nothing but skin and sinew.
I ride to Samarkand with the Emissary strapped to my horse. No one even questions an innocent trader, escaping with one last carpet. I sing, all the way there, and the Emissary remains compliant. I have the odd feeling he is intrigued to see what I will do next.
We are settled, now, in the Lateran Palace. The Emissary does not seem to mind his accommodations, which are quite comfortable and secure. He makes liqueurs and wines for the Pope's cellars, and goes by the name Mr Wines. He's something of a curiosity here. If he is plotting an escape, we see no signs of it, but I watch him, regardless. I am vigilant.