"Of course," I replied readily. Carter installed three microchips in my brain: a language chip that allowed me to understand and speak every language under the sun, a history chip currently not working and the controversial, experimental empathic memory chip that caused my brain to start hemorrhaging during my first trip. It was a shame to lose it. The empathic memory chip let me read the memories of whoever was closest to me. It was an incredibly effective tool for self-preservation.
However, I'd rather have my brain not explode in my skull than use the chip. From what I could tell, the only technology in my brain working was the ability to speak languages. I didn't need to read a history book to know Mongolians of this time period didn't speak American English.
"Come to our ger where you will take the seat of honor," Ghoajin said.
They led me out of the small tent and into the much larger one. The fire in its center reached my waist, and there were pillows lining either side of the blaze. Some were occupied by men while servants lingered in the shadows.
Ghoajin took her spot near the door while the commander ushered me to his right hand side as he sat on the pillow at the head of the men. I sat easily under the weight of the bulky clothing and then just as quickly struggled back to my feet when approached by two men.
The commander nodded for them to address me.
"Moonbeam, it is an honor," one said and bowed. He was dressed very unlike the Mongols in clothing that reminded me of the paintings I had seen in a museum from pre-Renaissance Europe. "I am Lorenzo, an emissary of His Eminence the Pope."
"The honor is mine, Lorenzo," I replied. "I have been to Rome."
"Did it please you?"
"It was one of the most beautiful places I've ever visited."
"I am honored, Moonbeam." He smiled somewhat hesitantly.
The man beside him wore ruby and gold, his style of dress marking him as Persian or Arab. "I am Mohamed, a merchant from the city of Baghdad."
"Baghdad," I repeated, curious about the city. "Is it large?"
"Yes, the largest city in the world, and very beautiful," he answered. He kept his eyes at my waist. "With golden domes on mosques larger than the steppes. We are the center for religion and trade."
"I would like to visit one day." Small talk wasn't easy with these men. Mohamed appeared shy or maybe, reserved, while Lorenzo glanced frequently at the Mongol commander, as if to ensure he wasn't overstepping his bounds.