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.