He walked out of his tent and almost called out for István, but then he remembered. István was likely busy right now with his new playmate. He waved over one of the ghouls who served him as attendants and ordered him to inform Rudiger that his prince was ready to speak with him.
There were plans to make.
Chapter Fourteen
The first thing Qarakh did upon returning to the campsite was call a council, a kuriltai. Alessandro, Wilhelmina, Arnulf and Grandfather joined Deverra and their khan at the usual meeting place away from the tents. Malachite had looked disappointed when it became clear that he was not going to be invited to sit in on the council, but he contented himself with talking to one of the Cainites who had returned to the tribal lands since Qarakh and Deverra had departed for Alexander’s campsite. Qarakh was pleased to note how many had returned, and how many of the tribe’s allies had come as well. Eirik Longtooth of Finland was here, as was Karl the Blue. From Prussia, where they led the Gangrel resistance to the Teutonic Knights, came Borovich the Grim and Tengael. From Lativa, Lacplesis the Beastslayer and the Tzimisce Vala, and from Uppsala, the Gangrel leader Werter. Some had brought Cainite and ghoul warriors with them, while others had come alone. Qarakh didn’t care; he was glad to see them all. If things did not go well with Alexander, every one of them would be needed.
As soon as they sat down on the fallen logs, Qarakh related the details of his parley with Alexander. When he was finished, he asked, “How strong are we now?”
Alessandro answered. “At last count, forty-seven Cainites—including us—and thirty-two ghouls.”
“Did you count the Nosferatu?” Arnulf growled.
Alessandro looked at the Goth warrior and frowned in puzzlement. “I assumed he was merely a visitor, but if you think I should—”
Qarakh held up a hand to silence his second-in-command. “There is no need. Your assumption was correct.” He looked at Arnulf. The Goth held his ax in one hand and slowly ran the thumb of his free hand along its razor-sharp edge, slicing the finger to the bone. He then paused for the wound to heal before doing it again. He was obviously unhappy, and Qarakh didn’t have to ask why. It was because he had brought Malachite—a stranger and perhaps a spy for Alexander—into their camp. The question wasn’t whether or not Arnulf was going to make an issue out of it, but how much of an issue, and how soon.
“How many warriors does Alexander have?” Wilhelmina asked. The eagerness in her voice indicated that she hoped there were quite a few and that they were all Christian.
“We did not see the entire camp,” Qarakh said, “but from what we observed, I would guess that he commands thirty Cainites, and twice that many ghoul and mortal knights. Perhaps more.”
“Ninety versus seventy-nine,” Grandfather said. “And Alexander’s warriors will be highly trained to a man, while many of ours have yet to see their first battle.”
“More warriors reach our camp with each passing night,” Alessandro pointed out. “Our strength will continue to increase, while Alexander’s will not.”
“Perhaps none of this will ultimately matter,” Deverra said. “Not if Alexander is serious about seeking an alliance with us.”
Arnulf snorted, but said nothing.
Sooner, Qarakh thought. Definitely sooner. “How much feeding stock do we have in camp?”
“Not counting the ghouls?” Alessandro asked.
Ghouls could be fed off of when necessary, but their primary function was as servants. “Trained to fight or not, the ghouls will be needed if battle comes.”
“In that case, we have… fifty-six.”
“Fifty-five,” Grandfather corrected. “One of our tribesmen seemingly ran all the way from Scotland in wolf form, and was so in need of nourishment that he immediately drained one of the mortals to death upon arriving.”
Qarakh didn’t bother asking the name of the Cainite who had killed the mortal. Ordinarily, slaying one of the herd while feeding—whether purposefully or not—was punishable by a year’s exile from Livonia or becoming blood-bonded to the khan, whichever the guilty party chose. But this was hardly the time to be concerned with enforcing tribal law, not with the possibility of war looming on the horizon.
Fifty-six mortals could support thirteen or so Cainites, perhaps a few more if the humans were rationed. But for a force of Cainites as large as theirs had become, they would need five times as many. Even at that number there would be no pretense of remaining hidden, and many mortals would grow weak and ill from recurrent draining.
“When we finish the kuriltai, we shall take down our gers and move our camp to within a quarter mile of the mortals’ village so that we might feed more easily.”
“As you will, my khan,” Alessandro acknowledged, “but I doubt there are very many mortals in the village—especially since a number have joined us here at the ordu. With your permission, I will send riders to neighboring villages and farms to gather those they can and bring them here.”
Qarakh nodded. “See that it is done.”
“I take it then that you’re dismissing the idea of an alliance with Alexander?” Deverra asked.
“No. But better to prepare for a war that doesn’t happen than to be caught at less than our full strength.” Qarakh took a moment to look at each member of his inner circle in turn, his gaze holding Arnulf’s for a second or two longer than the others’. “Before I decide about Alexander’s offer, I would hear your words on the
