by R. F. Kuang
Vaisra had also issued strict orders that no one was to leave the ship. The soldiers and crewmen were to continue living on board as if they were still out on open water, and only a handful of Eriden’s men had been permitted to enter Lusan to purchase fresh supplies. This, Nezha had explained, was to minimize the risk that someone might give away Rin’s cover. Meanwhile, she was only allowed on deck if she wore a scarf to cover her face.
“You know you can’t keep me here indefinitely,” Kitay said loudly. “Someone’s going to find out.”
“Like who?” Nezha asked.
“My father.”
“You think your father’s in Lusan?”
“He’s in the Empress’s guard. He commands her security detail. There’s no way she would have left him behind.”
“She left everyone else behind,” Nezha said.
Kitay crossed his arms. “Not my father.”
Nezha caught Rin’s eye. For the briefest moment he looked guilty, like he wanted to say something that he couldn’t, but she couldn’t imagine what.
“That’s the commerce minister,” Kitay said suddenly. “He’ll know.”
“What?”
Before either Nezha or Rin could register what he meant, Kitay broke into a run at the gangplank.
Nezha shouted for the closest soldiers to restrain him. They were too slow—Kitay dodged their arms, climbed onto the side of the ship, grabbed a rope, and lowered himself to the riverbank so quickly that he must have burned his hands raw.
Rin ran for the gangplank to intercept him, but Nezha held her back with one arm. “Don’t.”
“But he—”
Nezha just shook his head. “Let him.”
They watched from a distance, silent, as Kitay ran up to the commerce minister and seized his arm, then doubled over, panting.
Rin could see them clearly from the deck. The minister recoiled for a moment, hands lifted as if to ward off this unfamiliar soldier, until he recognized Defense Minister Chen’s son and his arms dropped.
Rin couldn’t tell what they were saying. She could only see their mouths moving, the expressions on their faces.
She saw the minister place his hands on Kitay’s shoulders.
She saw Kitay ask a question.
She saw the minister shake his head.
Then she saw Kitay collapse in on himself as if he had been speared in the gut, and she realized that Defense Minister Chen had not survived the Third Poppy War.
Kitay didn’t struggle when Vaisra’s men marched him back onto the boat. He was white-faced, tight-lipped, and his madly twitching eyes looked red at the rims.
Nezha tried to put a hand on Kitay’s shoulder. Kitay shook him off and made straight for the Dragon Warlord. Blue-clad soldiers immediately moved to form a protective wall between them, but Kitay didn’t reach for a weapon.
“I’ve decided something,” he said.
Vaisra waved a hand. His guard dispersed. Then it was just the two of them facing each other: the regal Dragon Warlord and the furious, trembling boy.
“Yes?” Vaisra asked.
“I want a position,” Kitay said.
“I thought you wanted to go home.”
“Don’t fuck with me,” Kitay snapped. “I want a position. Give me a uniform. I won’t wear this one anymore.”
“I’ll see where we can—”
Kitay cut him off again. “I’m not going to be a foot soldier.”
“Kitay—”
“I want a seat at the table. Chief strategist.”
“You’re rather young for that,” Vaisra said drily.
“No, I’m not. You made Nezha a general. And I’ve always been smarter than Nezha. You know I’m brilliant. I’m a fucking genius. Put me in charge of operations and you won’t lose a single battle, I swear.” Kitay’s voice broke at the end. Rin saw his throat bob, saw the veins protruding from his jaw, and knew that he was holding back tears.
“I’ll consider it,” Vaisra said.
“You knew, didn’t you?” Kitay demanded. “You’ve known for months.”
Vaisra’s expression softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be the one to have to tell you. I know how much pain you must feel—”
“No. No, shut the fuck up, I don’t want that.” Kitay backed away. “I don’t need your fake sympathy.”
“Then what would you like from me?”
Kitay lifted his chin. “I want troops.”
The Warlords’ summit would not commence until after the victory parade, and that stretched over the next two days. For the most part Vaisra’s soldiers did not participate. Several troops entered the city in civilian clothes, sketching out final details in their already extensive maps of the city in case anything had changed. But the majority of the crew remained on board, watching the festivities from afar.
Every now and then an armed delegation arrived aboard the Seagrim, faces shrouded under hoods to conceal their identities. Vaisra received them in his office, doors sealed, guards posted outside to discourage curious eavesdroppers. Rin assumed the visitors were the southern Warlords—the rulers of Boar, Rooster, and Monkey provinces.
Hours passed without news. Rin grew maddeningly bored. She’d been over the palace maps a thousand times, and she’d already trained so long with Eriden that day that her leg muscles screamed when she walked. She was just about to ask Nezha if they might explore Lusan in disguise when Vaisra summoned her to his office.
“I have a meeting with the Snake Warlord,” he said. “On land. You’re coming.”
“As a guard?”
“No. As proof.”
He didn’t explain further, but she suspected she knew what he meant, so she simply picked up her trident, pulled her scarf up higher over her face until it concealed all but her eyes, and followed him toward the gangplank.
“Is the Snake Warlord an ally?” she asked.
“Ang Tsolin was my Strategy master at Sinegard. He could be anything from ally to enemy. Today, we’ll simply treat him as an old friend.”
“What should I say to him?”
“You’ll remain silent. All he has to do is look at you.”
Rin followed Vaisra across the riverbank until they reached a line of tents propped up at the city borders as if it were an invading army’s. When they approached the periphery, a group of green-clad soldiers stopped them and demanded their weapons.
“Go on,” Vaisra muttered when Rin hesitated to part with her trident.
“You trust him that much?”
“No. But I trust you won’t need it.”
The Snake Warlord came to meet them outside, where his aides had set up two chairs and a small table.
At first Rin mistook him for a servant. Ang Tsolin didn’t look like a Warlord. He was an old man with a long and sad face, so slender he seemed frail. He wore the same forest-green Militia uniform as his men, but no symbols announced his rank, and no weapon hung at his hip.
“Old master.” Vaisra dipped his head. “It’s good to see you again.”
Tsolin’s eyes flickered toward the outline of the Seagrim, which was just visible down the river. “So you didn’t take the bitch’s offer, either?”
“It was rather unsubtle, even for her,” Vaisra said. “Is anyone staying in the palace?”
“Chang En. Our old friend Jun Loran. None of the southern Warlords.”
Vaisra arched an eyebrow. “They hadn’t mentioned that. That’s surprising.”
“Is it? They’re southern.”
Vaisra settled back in his chair. “I suppose not. They’ve been touchy for years.”
No one had brought a chair out for Rin, so she remained standing behind Vaisra, hands folded over her chest in imitation of the guards who flanked Tsolin. They looked unamused.
“You’ve certainly taken your time getting here,” Tsolin said. “It’s been a long camping trip for the rest of us.”
“I was picking up something on the coast.” Vaisra pointed toward Rin. “Do you know who sh
e is?”
Rin lowered her scarf.
Tsolin glanced up. At first he seemed only confused as he examined her face, but then he must have taken in the dark hue of her skin, the red glint in her eyes, because his entire body tensed.
“She’s wanted for quite a lot of silver,” he said finally. “Something about an assassination attempt in Adlaga.”
“It’s a good thing I’ve never wanted for silver,” said Vaisra.
Tsolin rose from his chair and walked toward Rin until only inches separated them. He was not so much taller than she was, but his gaze made her distinctly uncomfortable. She felt like a specimen under his careful examination.
“Hello,” she said. “I’m Rin.”
Tsolin ignored her. He made a humming noise under his breath and returned to his seat. “This is a very blunt display of force. You’re just going to march her into the Autumn Palace?”
“She’ll be properly bound. Drugged, too. Daji insisted on it.”
“So Daji knows she’s here.”
“I thought that’d be prudent. I sent a messenger ahead.”
“No wonder she’s getting antsy, then,” Tsolin said. “She’s increased the palace guard threefold. The Warlords are talking. Whatever you’re planning, she’s ready for it.”
“So it will help to have your support,” Vaisra said.
Rin noticed that Vaisra dipped his head every time he spoke to Tsolin. In a subtle fashion, he was bowing continuously to his elder, displaying deference and respect.
But Tsolin seemed unresponsive to flattery. He sighed. “You’ve never been content with peace, have you?”
“And you refuse to acknowledge that war is the only option,” said Vaisra. “Which would you prefer, Tsolin? The Empire can die a slow death over the next century, or we can set the country on the right path within the week if we’re lucky.”
“Within a few bloody years, you mean.”
“Months, at the most.”
“Don’t you remember the last time someone went up against the Trifecta?” Tsolin asked. “Remember how the bodies littered the steps of the Heavenly Pass?”
“It won’t be like that,” Vaisra said.
“Why not?”
“Because we have her.” Vaisra nodded toward Rin.
Tsolin looked wearily in Rin’s direction.
“You poor child,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
She blinked, unsure what that meant.
“And we have the advantage of time,” Vaisra continued quickly. “The Militia is reeling from the Federation attack. They need to recuperate. They couldn’t marshal their defenses fast enough.”
“Yet under your best-case scenario, Daji still has the northern provinces,” Tsolin said. “Horse and Tiger would never defect. She has Chang En and Jun. That’s all you need.”
“Jun knows not to fight battles he can’t win.”
“But he can and will win this one. Or did you think you would defeat everyone through a little intimidation?”
“This war could be over in days if I had your support,” Vaisra said impatiently. “Together we’d control the coastline. I own the canals. You own the eastern shore. Combined, our fleets—”
Tsolin held up a hand. “My people have undergone three wars in their lifetime, each time with a different ruler. Now they might have their first chance at a lasting peace. And you want to bring a civil war to their doorsteps.”
“There’s a civil war coming, whether you admit it or not. I only hasten the inevitable.”
“We will not survive the inevitable,” Tsolin said. True sorrow laced his words. Rin could see it in his eyes; the man looked haunted. “We lost so many men at Golyn Niis, Vaisra. Boys. You know what our commanders made their soldiers do the evening before the siege? They wrote letters home to their families. Told them they loved them. Told them they wouldn’t be coming home. And our generals chose the strongest and fastest soldiers to deliver the messages back home, because they knew it wasn’t going to make a difference whether we had them at the wall.”
He stood up. “My answer is no. We have yet to recover from the scars of the Poppy Wars. You can’t ask us to bleed again.”
Vaisra reached out and grabbed Tsolin’s wrist before he could turn to go. “You’re neutral then?”
“Vaisra—”
“Or against me? Shall I expect Daji’s assassins at my door?”
Tsolin looked pained. “I know nothing. I help no one. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?”
“We’re just going to let him go?” Rin asked once they were out of Tsolin’s earshot.
Vaisra’s harsh laugh surprised her. “You think he’s going to report us to the Empress?”
Rin thought this had seemed rather obvious. “It’s clear he’s not with us.”
“He will be. He’s revealed his threshold for going to war. Provincial danger. He’ll pick a side quick enough if it means the difference between warfare and obliteration, so I will force his hand. I’ll bring the fight to his province. He won’t have a choice then, and I suspect he knows that.”
Vaisra’s stride grew faster and faster as they walked. Rin had to run to catch up.
“You’re angry,” she realized.
No, he was furious. She could see it in the icy glare in his eyes, in the stiffness of his gait. She’d spent too much of her childhood learning to tell when someone was in a dangerous mood.
Vaisra didn’t respond.
She stopped walking. “The other Warlords. They said no, didn’t they?”
Vaisra paused before he answered. “They’re undecided. It’s too early to tell.”
“Will they betray you?”
“They don’t know enough about my plans to do anything. All they can tell Daji is that I’m displeased with her, which she already knows. But I doubt they’ll have the backbone to say even that.” Vaisra’s voice dripped with condescension. “They are like sheep. They will watch silently, waiting to see how the balance of power falls, and they will align with whoever can protect them. But we won’t need them until then.”
“But you needed Tsolin,” she said.
“This will be significantly harder without Tsolin,” he admitted. “He could have tipped the balance. It’ll truly be a war now.”
She couldn’t help but ask, “Then are we going to lose?”
Vaisra regarded her in silence for a moment. Then he knelt down in front of her, put his hands on her shoulders, and looked up at her with an intensity that made Rin want to squirm.
“No,” he said softly. “We have you.”
“Vaisra—”
“You will be the spear that brings this empire down,” he said sternly. “You will defeat Daji. You will set in motion this war, and then the southern Warlords will have no choice.”
The intensity in his eyes made her desperately uncomfortable. “But what if I can’t?”
“You will.”
“But—”
“You will, because I ordered you to.” His grip tightened on her shoulders. “You are my greatest weapon. Do not disappoint.”
Chapter 9
Rin had imagined the Autumn Palace as composed of blocky, abstract shapes, the way it was represented on the maps. But the real Autumn Palace was a perfectly preserved sanctuary of beauty, a sight lifted straight out of an ink brush painting. Flowers bloomed everywhere. White plum blossoms and peach flowers laced the gardens; lily pads and lotus flowers dotted the ponds and waterways. The complex itself was an elegantly designed structure of ornamented ceremonial gates, massive marble pillars, and sprawling pavilions.
But for all that beauty, a stillness hung over the palace that made Rin deeply uncomfortable. The heat was oppressive. The roads looked as if they were swept clean hourly by unseen servants, but still Rin could hear the ubiquitous sound of buzzing flies, as if they detected something rotten in the air that no one could see.
It felt as if the palace hid something foul under its lovely exterior; beneath the smell of blooming lilacs, some
thing was in the last stages of decay.
Perhaps she was imagining it. Perhaps the palace was truly beautiful, and she just hated it because it was a coward’s resort. This was a refuge, and the fact that anyone had hidden alive in the Autumn Palace while corpses rotted in Golyn Niis infuriated her.
Eriden nudged the small of her back with his spear. “Eyes down.”
She hastily obeyed. She had come posing as Vaisra’s prisoner—hands cuffed behind her back, mouth sealed behind an iron muzzle that clamped her lower jaw tightly upward. She could barely speak except in whispers.
She didn’t have to remember to look scared. She was terrified. The thirty grams of opium circulating through her bloodstream did nothing to calm her down. It magnified her paranoia even as it kept her heart rate low and made her feel as if she were floating among clouds. Her mind was anxious and hyperactive but her body was slow and sluggish—the worst possible combination.
At sunrise Rin, Vaisra, and Captain Eriden had passed under the arched gateways of the nine concentric circles of the Autumn Palace. Servants patted them down for weapons at each gate. By the seventh gate, they had been groped so thoroughly that Rin was surprised they hadn’t been asked to strip naked.
At the eighth gate an Imperial guard stopped her to check her pupils.
“She took a dose before the guards this morning,” Vaisra said.
“Even so,” said the guard. He reached for Rin’s chin and tilted it up. “Eyes open, please.”
Rin obliged and tried not to squirm as he pulled her eyelids apart.
Satisfied, the guard stepped back to let them through.
Rin followed Vaisra into the throne room, shoes echoing against a marble floor so smooth it looked like still water at the surface of a lake.
The inner chamber was a rich and ornate assault of decorations that blurred and swam in Rin’s opium-blurred eyesight. She blinked and tried to focus. Intricately painted symbols covered every wall, stretching all the way up to the ceiling, where they coalesced in a circle.