The rally camp had filled out again in the week since Kozelsk burned itself down to cold ash. Orda's White Horde still occupied the ground along the river, its horses grazing in broad, unhurried lines much like they had while the herd recovered.
Now the returning tumens and the Khar Kheshig occupied that same stretch of land. Tents stood packed more tightly than they had been before, with enough cook fires burning at once to remind Batu how much larger the camp had become.
As he crouched beside the dispatch case that morning, the old wound along his ribs tugged once. It wasn't a real injury anymore and it needed nothing from him except the occasional reminder that it had once been there.
Two dispatches waited inside.
The first came from Torghul. Vyazma had surrendered without a fight, its boyar opening the gates the moment Torghul's tumen appeared. Torghul was already advancing on Dorogobuzh under the same terms, expecting success there to follow the same pattern.
