Much Fall of Blood-ARC (75 page)

So, at long last, Manfred was able to send a detailed report of his whereabouts and the situation in the lands of the Golden Horde. It included a statement from Tulkun, and Bortai, in Mongol script, destined for the Ilkhan.

Erik was willing to bet few sword strokes could wreak as much havoc as those sheets of paper would. Of course it might take until next spring to get them to where they might do some good.

The winter, having being fairly mild, turned into a harsh season, with more snow. Vlad was able to do little more than consolidate, drill a little, and wait for spring.

* * *

To the east, the Golden Horde put aside inter-clan warfare in favor of keeping warm, and, of course, passing the time. A lot of babies would be born nine months later. And, naturally, a lot of stories were told. This was the time of year to strengthen and maintain the core of Mongol tradition, mostly by word of mouth. The story of Tortoise Orkhan was a popular one, across the White horde, and the unaffiliated and disaffected part of the Blue Horde. It was repeated, more clandestinely, even among the women folk of the clans closest to Gatu.

The orkhan called a meeting of his closest advisors. "It is like being pecked to death by sparrows. Every day we get more demands about having a kurultai to choose a new khan. Do they not think that I know what they're doing?"

"In spring . . ."

"We cannot wait until spring. If we wait until then, we seven in this ger will be the last left," Nogay said glumly. "We've spread gold like water. And all she has spread is this story. And they prefer tradition and stories. The women coo about the romance of it."

"Besides," said another adviser, "they have made an alliance, or at least a truce, with the khan over the mountain. He has let them pass through his territory. They can flank us or raid our gers while we try to fight the White Horde."

"Let us call for a new kurultai," said Gatu thoughtfully.

"You might have lost an election then, Orkhan," said General Nogay, "which is why we took the actions we did. You would definitely lose an election now.

"Yes," said the orkhan. "But you have told me that we have a skilled assassin. Borshar has brought us nothing but trouble so far, not the help we were promised. So let us see if he can be of other use."

Nogay looked thoughtful. "Kildai was supposed to die with the spell that knocked him off his horse. The ancestral tengeri look after that one. He would have to be killed in such a way that no suspicion fell on you, Orkhan."

* * *

After Emeric dismissed Count Mindaug, he felt some anxiety over his offer of employment. Mindaug had taken the offer—and gratefully, to all appearances. But the king of Hungary could not help but be somewhat worried.

Emeric's grasp of magic was rudimentary, compared to that of Elizabeth's. In the past, the countess had seen to it that competent practitioners whom Emeric could co-opt were few and far between. She had killed anyone who might rival her, and taken into her own employ those like Mindaug who posed no threat but were highly skilled.

The result was that Emeric had no good way to oversee the work of someone like Mindaug. He didn't know enough, himself. He would have no choice but to trust the count's word for such things—and trust was not something that came easily to the king of Hungary. It didn't come at all, actually.

Still . . .

He decided he was fretting too much. Elizabeth had never given any indication that she feared treachery from Mindaug, after all. The count's faults were those of fear and timidity—hardly the traits one would expect from an ambitious schemer. Emeric would simply have to see to it that, in a crisis, he over-rode Mindaug's inevitable hesitations.

"The orkhan and the khans of the clans of the Blue horde have sent tarkhans to negotiate a kurultai!" announced Bortai, excitedly. "The generals and the khans from the clans are discussing safeguards with them."

Erik found himself in turmoil on hearing this. He ought to be glad. Bortai was plainly pleased, the election of a new great Khan for the Golden Horde would hopefully end the civil war situation, and this after all would clear their way to their completing their mission. But . . . for the harsh months of winter, he had spent part of nearly every day with Bortai. She and two or three female Mongol—often different ones, escorted discretely by a few warriors, always came to make sure that they were well provisioned, and that they had no needs. Once Erik had found out the protocol that Mongol would follow among themselves on these visits, he'd had a word with Manfred and they'd turned them into showpieces of good hospitality. This had certainly done them no harm in the eyes of their hosts. They were an intrinsically traditional society, placing value on such things. The result had been that the knights were now almost regarded as a slightly odd Mongol tribe . . . and that Erik was even more fluent in Bortai's tongue—and she in his. And of course that his feelings for her had grown. She was . . . different to Svan. Always would be. But she was as true as steel, and laughed a lot.

And now they would be parting. And he still was none too sure what to do about it.

"Will you be going to the kurultai?" he asked.

"Oh yes, definitely! I will be giving my testimony there, before the assembled clan heads."

"I will miss you," The words were out before he thought about them.

She looked at him a little oddly. "But you will be coming with us."

"Um . . ." How best not to give offence?

She understood. "It will not be like last time. Firstly . . . The clan Khans have agreed. And secondly, our army awaits less than a league away. Thirdly, it will take place on our borderland. This time it is not us who are far from home and isolated. And finally, this time we are prepared. Let them dare. Few, if any clans will stand for it twice. They have tried to pin the blame on us for last time. It has not worked. The honor and reputation of the Hawk clan towers above them. The best they can hope for is for people to accept is that it was a mistake."

"I have to consider Manfred's safety." And yours, he wanted to say, but held back. How had he got himself into this situation? He'd said that he would never love another woman. That his life was duty . . . And also, well, just how could he do it? He had no real idea of the protocols involved in proposing marriage to a Mongol woman. And . . . was the idea at all acceptable to her? Was he?

She nodded. "
We
understand the sanctity of a tarkhan and his escorts."

Which was important, but not quite what he needed to know, right now.

* * *

Bortai had become very, very good at reading Erik. She knew him now for the reserved, intensely honorable that man he was. She'd long since moved on in her thinking from considering him a foreigner and some kind but lesser person. He was just . . . Erik. A man who loved neither lightly or with anything less than his whole being. She too saw complications. A Mongol woman moved, with her bride-goods, to the ger and lands of her new husband. She had long since realized that the horseboy had lied about Erik's noble antecedents. And she found that she really didn't care. She'd met enough young nobles whose nobility amounted to a title and wealth. In Erik . . . well he had that inner quality that set him apart. But just how did she persuade him to take that next step? And . . . was she ready to cast clan, tradition, and all she had lived for aside for a handsome foreigner?

Her heart said "yes."

Duty and common sense said "no." Or at least, not yet. But part of her said she should ignore the smiling chaperones—who were very good at turning a blind eye—and just kiss him.

Duty won.

Narrowly.

* * *

The wolves knew roughly where to start searching. And the noses of the wolves were keen. It did not take them that long to find the shallow grave, and to open it up.

Vlad stood silent looking down at fabric that he recognized. At her remains.

Finally, he turned away and said quietly. "No man could own you. But you . . . owned me. And in part you always will." He took off his black cloak with its rich purple satin lining. "Let us wrap her in this. She will have a real burial, with honor, in the churchyard. My debt to the Lady Bortai is deeper. But I will purge this earth of Elizabeth's descendant too. Emeric of Hungary was Elizabeth Bartoldy's legacy. Destroying him will be Rosa's."

* * *

Kaltegg Shaman looked at the two boys and chuckled. "You are willing to do this, boy?" he asked David.

David nodded. Once he would have shied as far as possible from it. But he been a different boy then. A person to whom the walls of Jerusalem had been the walls of the world, and to whom self had been all important. Now . . . he knew that had been a very small world, and that self was part of larger whole.

"You know that they will try to kill you," said the shaman.

"That's why I came. That's why I made Kildai come."

"It is my task and my risk!" said Kildai.

"Shut up, you," said David cheerfully.

"How can you tell me to shut up? Have you no respect?" demanded Kildai. But the shaman could tell by the way he said it, that it was a rhetorical question. He smiled to himself. The young khan needed this. And the boy from Jerusalem needed him too.

"Nope," said David. "You know that by know. So tell us, Kaltegg Shaman, can we do this? They will try to kill him. I know it. He knows it. Last time they tried by magic. I think that is what they will do again. I've talked to Von Stael. He says that I am doing the right thing."

The shaman nodded. "Yes. I believe it will be a magical attack, and a strong one. I believe it will be directed at Kildai Khan. I believe that the force that will provide the spell, does not know Kildai Khan. They must have got hold, somehow, of some of his essences. Blood. Skin. Hair. Maybe even clothes. Thus it was that the force was able to be released at him, while he rode in the great game." He looked at Kildai, sternly. "You were lucky to survive, Kildai Khan. But this could work. The spell will be directed at the wrong person—if they require that it should be by direct indication of the victim. I think this is true. They
must
point you out—focus the ill-wishing on you. Otherwise Kildai Khan would have died, even though he was hidden from them."

David nodded. "So, until we have dealt with Gatu Orkhan, I will be you. And you be me—wearing steel and riding with the Knights. And the two of us will have to keep apart."

The shaman nodded. "I will do what I can to protect you both."

* * *

The kurultai must have had ten thousand tents.

"A small gathering," said General Pakai. "People are wary. But every clan has sent some representatives."

"And a lot more wait, and watch, just a few hours away," said Bortai.

They rode on.

The huge camp was very edgy. Clan representatives and soldiers had gone ahead, setting up gers, preparing the sections of the kurultai. The camp was a large ring, allowing access to the open steppe beyond, without crossing the camp of any other clan. White Horde was on the northern and eastern side, Blue on the southern and western. In the middle was a large open area, with a dais for the clan heads. The subclans would be obliged to settle for the grass. But the camp had been chosen well: it was set about a low dell, which had been cleared of snow, making a natural amphitheater.

The Mongols, who normally dressed in rather plain clothing, making it hard to tell a khan from a commoner, had broken out their finery. Erik hardly even recognized Bortai, in the rose colored and patterned deel of embroidered fine cloth and doeskin boots. The clan must be making sure that their prize witness looked the part.

The knights rode in the rear of the column. There was a disturbance up ahead and Bortai rode on to see what it was.

* * *

David lay on the ground and fitted epileptically. The Khesig had formed a defensive circle around him. The shaman Kaltegg had already made a circle in the snow and was beating his drum, chanting.

As Bortai pushed her way through, David sat up. By the time she got there he was being helped onto his horse.

"Are you all right?" she demanded.

"No," he said, crossly. "I feel like I have just run fifty miles, and been pounded with rocks."

"Magical attack," said the shaman. "I have the flavor of the attacker now."

"Oh, good," said David, clinging to the saddle."That makes me feel better. Why didn't you stop them?"

"I did not know who it was, or what form it would take," said Kaltegg. "I do now, boy from Jerusalem. And if you had been Kildai, the attack would have killed him. Now, it will rebound."

Bortai rode back and evaded Erik, to make sure that Ritter Von Stael's "squire" in peaked helmet and high-collared cloak was all right. And to reassure Kildai that David too was fine. They managed a swap around later in the Hawk camp, and a little later Kildai, looking as fit as a young colt, rode off to the first session of the kurultai.

"You will be called," Bortai explained to Erik. "A little after me, I think."

"What happened earlier?"

"The horseboy transferred his debt to you, to us," said Bortai with a twinkle. "He will be all right. And he is a brave boy."

"Better than he was, anyway," said Erik.

A messenger came looking for Bortai, and she went to face the clan-heads.

"There was some consternation at seeing Kildai there," said her escort, grinning.

"You have noted carefully who did not expect him to be?"

"Of course. But we already knew."

Bortai stood and spoke to the crowd. She had a good, strong carrying voice. She told her story well. She had been taught to do so, since story-telling was a skill of great value. The audience responded appreciatively, with suitable laughter, and appropriate gasps of horror in the right places. Pointed looks were cast at the orkhan.

Afterward one of Gatu's pets got up. "It's a good story," he said, "if hard to believe."

The audience hissed. They wanted to believe. "But tell me," he went on. "The effects of a fall onto one's head, as we all know, can weaken the souls of the body causing fits. Is it not true that the young khan of the Hawk has had such fits since then? Making this tissue of silly lies a necessity? The clans cannot have a leader who will fall from his horse."