Orda POV
Džuketau sat in the low ground below the rise, a cluster of timber buildings along two crossing roads. Market stalls ran down the center of the wider road, a grain warehouse stood near the river, with its loading dock still extended over the water.
Morning fires burned in the buildings, and people moved in the streets below. It was not the normal movement of a town opening its day, but the quick, purposeless movement of people who did not know where to go.
The garrison had set themselves at the main road's north entry. Wagons and carts were stacked across the road, foot soldiers behind them, archers on the rooftops of the nearest buildings. A few hundred men at most, the town had what was left after everything else had gone south toward Bulgar.
His White Horde was spread around the full perimeter, every road out covered, the river at the town's back acting as a blockade rather than an escape route.
A jaghun commander came alongside.
"All mingans are in position."
