Batu ushered them inside before Yaroslav could continue. The ger stood twenty paces behind the forward position, its thick felt walls reducing the morning wind to little more than a faint pressure outside.
The air changed as soon as they entered. The smell of horses and damp grass gave way to leather and smoke. A single lamp near the center cast a steady glow across the walls.
Two Khar Kheshig riders waited beside the entrance with their arms relaxed at their sides. Their purpose wasn't to keep anyone from leaving. They were there as a reminder of who controlled the meeting.
Suuqai entered behind the Rus party and stopped half a step behind Batu's left shoulder. The interpreter took his place on Batu's right.
Yaroslav's steward pulled a square of parchment and a writing stick from inside his coat before anyone asked. The movement came from long habit. He was the sort of man who recorded details before his lord had fully decided which ones mattered.
