Reincarnated as Genghis Khan's Grandson, I Will Not Let It Fall-Chapter 64: What the River Runs Between

Khulgen was at the command table when Batu arrived in the afternoon, the day’s tallies spread out in front of him. The lamp was lit despite the hour.

The cold was coming earlier now.

Batu sat across from him. His right arm was in the sling. He set his left hand on the edge of the table and waited.

Siban came through the entrance a few minutes later. He took in the table, the lamp, the two men, and sat without being directed.

He didn’t ask why he’d been summoned.

"The eighteen hundred," Batu said. "We sort by what a man knows how to do."

Khulgen’s stylus was already in his hand.

"The ones with specific knowledge go into a separate track. Preferential conditions. Food, shelter, some freedom of movement inside the camp’s perimeter.

In exchange, the knowledge goes to use."

Batu looked at Khulgen. "The records man from this morning. He runs Orel’s function until Orel can train someone to take it.

The allocation records from Berke’s forward depot are gone. He carries what was on them. That knowledge travels with the man, not the felt."

Khulgen wrote it down.

"Ochir," Batu said. "He knows how Berke’s supply structure ran and where it failed. That’s worth a full accounting before winter closes.

He sits with you, not under guard. He answers what you ask."

"And if he doesn’t."

"Then his conditions change and we find out how long it takes." Batu kept his voice flat. "He’s already told me things without being asked.

He’ll talk."

Khulgen added it.

"The third one," Batu said. "The rider near the eastern edge who said he was a courier."

Siban’s eyes moved slightly.

"He reads situations fast and builds a response that serves him. That’s a skill." Batu paused.

"He’s not a courier. Find out what he actually is before you assign him anything."

"I will have it by morning," Khulgen said.

"The rest," Batu said, "go to labor."

Khulgen looked up from his felt. "What labor."

Batu looked at the lamp for a moment. The answer he was about to give had a specific reason and he wanted to give it correctly.

"The wolf’s track seal needs a place to sit permanently," he said. "The camp handles formations. Running clans’ tribute, a clerical record from the Irtysh to Dorbei’s line, and that apparatus alongside formations is the wrong structure."

He looked at Khulgen. "It needs a fixed point. Something that works when I’m not in it."

"There are two locations on the lower Volga that meet what’s needed," Batu said. "The first is on the eastern channel, where the river splits off from the main body and runs south."

Batu let the information settle for a second, "The pasture on either bank runs deep and the crossing is reliable even in low water. Merchant traffic from the east already uses that branch. It’s shorter and calmer than the main river approach."

Khulgen looked up from the felt. "Supply access from here."

"Manageable in any season. Distance from Dorbei’s line is workable."

Batu continued, "The second is further north. Still on the eastern channel, where it rejoins the main river’s flood plain. Better connections toward the northern tributaries. The Bulgar trade routes pass closer. It sits further from the southern territory, and what we’ve taken south needs administering first."

Siban had gone still. His eyes were on the table.

"The first site," Batu said. "The eastern channel, the lower position. That’s where they go when the ground thaws in spring. Before that, the prisoners who can carry a tool spend winter moving timber and stone from the river margins to a staging point. By the time it opens, material is already there."

Khulgen noted the site description without looking up. He was writing steadily.

He did not ask what the site would be called, or what its authority would rest on, or what an administrative center in the western territory implied about the relationship between that territory and Karakorum.

Siban asked a question.

"The eastern channel at the lower position," he said. "Does it stay navigable through winter, or does it ice before the main river."

It was a pragmatic question about river hydrology.

It was also the question of a man who had just heard a site described in terms of supply runs and administrative work and merchant traffic, and who was now checking whether the site’s primary asset held through the season when everything else closed.

"It ices later than the main Volga," Batu said. "That branch is narrower and the current runs faster. You get a few weeks of navigable water after the main river closes."

Siban nodded once. He did not ask anything else.

"The distance from the southern line, Dorbei’s reports come north through the corridor."

Batu said, looking at Khulgen now. "Once that point is established, his reports don’t have to come all the way to this camp. It becomes a relay point. It shortens the administrative distance between what he’s holding and the record that covers it."

Khulgen was still writing.

"The eighteen hundred. The ones with skills go to Orel, to you, or into assessment."

Batu continued. "The rest go into labor rotation. Timber first, then stone, through winter. When Dorbei’s reports start arriving with clan submissions from the south, the clerical function needs to be able to receive them."

He looked at Khulgen. "That means people who can write."

"The rest of the eighteen hundred," Khulgen said. "Do you want them sorted before I start moving them?"

"Yes."

Khulgen folded the felt and set it aside. He had what he needed.

Outside, the camp’s late afternoon had moved into early evening. The cook fires were up.

The cold had the particular flat smell that came after dark in winter, sharper than the day’s cold, sitting in the air without moving.

"Tomorrow morning," Batu said. "I’ll take a small group to look at the site."

Khulgen looked up.

"Ten riders. Kirsa, Bayan, and whoever Kirsa picks for terrain reading. The river’s still crossable. I want to see the ground before it closes."

"The arm," Khulgen said.

"Rides with me. It’s not my legs." Batu stood. "Have Kirsa’s group at the northern gate before first light."

Khulgen noted it without further comment.

Siban had not moved. He was still looking at the table.

When Batu stood he looked up, and the look was the same one he had worn in the narrows and at the breakfast table. He showed none of it now.

He inclined his head once and looked back at the table.

Batu walked out into the cold.