The ger was cold by the time the competition closed and Batu returned to it. He sat and let thought over the competition. Five wins, one loss, the last match taken from him by a man from the Borjigin outer camps who had watched all five prior matches before entering and had known exactly how to fight him.
The loss had arrived at the end of the afternoon when his body had already given most of what it had. It was predictable. The decision to compete past the fifth match had been a move with a known cost attached to it, and the cost had arrived on schedule.
He looked back at it for what it was and moved on.
Einar had won ten consecutive matches. The information sat in the head of every prince who had been at the wrestling ground, and they were all about to sit down to eat together.
Suuqai was at the entrance when Batu stood.
