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“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 (#ulink_ebbaea2b-2a04-547e-bb58-8ad71336f9ef)
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, something 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.
It’s the Pantheon, she realized. If she squinted, she could make out the gods she had come to recognize: the Monkey God, mischievous and cruel; the Phoenix, imposing and ravenous …
That was odd. The Red Emperor had hated shamans. After he’d claimed his throne at Sinegard, he’d had the monks killed and their monasteries burned.
But maybe he hadn’t hated the gods. Maybe he’d just hated that he couldn’t access their power for himself.
The ninth gate led to the council room. The Empress’s personal guard, a row of soldiers in gold-lined armor, blocked their path.
“No attendants,” said the guard captain. “The Empress has decided that she does not want to crowd the council room with bodyguards.”
A flicker of irritation crossed Vaisra’s face. “The Empress might have told me this beforehand.”
“The Empress sent a notice to everyone residing in the palace,” the guard captain said smugly. “You declined her invitation.”
Rin thought Vaisra might protest, but he only turned to Eriden and told him to wait outside. Eriden bowed and departed, leaving them without guards or weapons in the heart of the Autumn Palace.
But they were not entirely alone. At that moment the Cike were swimming through the underground waterways toward the city’s heart. Aratsha had constructed air bubbles around their heads so they could swim for miles without needing to come up for air.
The Cike had used this as an infiltration method many times before. This time, they would deliver reinforcements if the coup went sour. Baji and Suni would take up posts directly outside the council room, poised to spring in and break Vaisra out if necessary. Qara would station herself at the highest pavilion outside the council room for ranged support. And Ramsa would squirrel himself away wherever he and his waterproof bag of combustible treasures could cause the most havoc.
Rin found a small degree of comfort in that. If they couldn’t capture the Autumn Palace, at least they had a good chance of blowing it up.
Silence fell over the council room when Rin and Vaisra walked in.
The Warlords twisted in their seats to stare at her, their expressions ranging from surprise to curiosity to mild distaste. Their eyes roved over her body, lingered on her arms and legs, took stock of her height and build. They looked everywhere except at her eyes.
Rin shifted uncomfortably. They were sizing her up like a cow at market.
The Ox Warlord spoke first. Rin recognized him from Khurdalain; she was surprised that he was still alive. “This little girl held you up for weeks?”
Vaisra chuckled. “The searching ate my time, not the extraction. I found her stranded in Ankhiluun. Moag got to her first.”
The Ox Warlord looked surprised. “The Pirate Queen? How did you wrestle her away?”
“I traded Moag for something she likes better,” Vaisra said.
“Why would you bring her here alive?” demanded a man at the other end of the table.
Rin swiveled her head around and nearly jumped in surprise. She hadn’t recognized Master Jun at first glance. His beard had grown much longer, and his hair was shot through with gray streaks that hadn’t been there before the war. But she could find the same arrogance etched into the lines of her old Combat master’s face, as well as his clear distaste for her.
He glared at Vaisra. “Treason deserves the death penalty. And she’s far too dangerous to keep around.”
“Don’t be hasty,” said the Horse Warlord. “She might be useful.”
“Useful?” Jun echoed.
“She’s the last of her kind. We’d be fools to throw a weapon like that away.”
“Weapons are only useful if you can wield them,” said the Ox Warlord. “I think you’d have a little trouble taming this beast.”
“Where do you think she went wrong?” The Rooster Warlord leaned forward to get a better look at her.
Rin had privately been looking forward to meeting the Rooster Warlord, Gong Takha. They came from the same province. They spoke the same dialect, and his skin was nearly as dark as hers. Word on the Seagrim was that Takha was the closest to joining the Republic. But if provincial ties counted for anything, Takha didn’t show it. He stared at her with the same sort of fearful curiosity one displayed toward a caged tiger.
“She’s got a wild look in her eyes,” he continued. “Do you think the Mugenese experiments did that to her?”
I’m in the room, Rin wanted to snap. Stop talking about me like I’m not here.
But Vaisra wanted her to be docile. Act stupid, he’d said. Don’t come off as too intelligent.
“Nothing so complex,” said Vaisra. “She was a Speerly straining against her leash. You remember how the Speerlies were.”
“When my dogs go mad, I put them down,” Jun said.
The Empress spoke from the doorway. “But little girls aren’t dogs, Loran.”
Rin froze.
Su Daji had traded her ceremonial robes for a green soldier’s uniform. Her shoulder pads were inlaid with jade armor, and a longsword hung at her waist. It seemed like a message. She was not only the Empress, she was also grand marshal of the Nikara Imperial Militia. She’d conquered the Empire once by force. She’d do it again.
Rin fought to keep her breathing steady as Daji reached out and traced her fingertips over her muzzle.
“Careful,” Jun said. “She bites.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” Daji’s voice sounded languid, almost disinterested. “Did she put up a fight?”
“She tried,” Vaisra said.
“I imagine there were casualties.”
“Not as many as you would expect. She’s weak. The drug’s done her in.”
“Of course.” Daji’s lip curled. “Speerlies have always had their predilections.”
Her hand drifted upward to pat Rin gently on the head.
Rin’s fingers curled into fists.
Calm, she reminded herself. The opium hadn’t worn off yet. When she tried to call the fire, she felt only a numb, blocked sensation in the back of her mind.
Daji’s eyes lingered on Rin for a long while. Rin froze, terrified that the Empress might take her aside now like Vaisra had warned. It was too early. If she were alone in a room with Daji, the best she could do was hurl some disoriented fists in her direction.
But Daji only smiled, shook her head, and turned toward the table. “We’ve much to get through. Shall we proceed?”
“What about the girl?” Jun asked. “She ought to be in a cell.”
“I know.” Daji shot Rin a poisonous smile. “But I like to watch her sweat.”
The next two hours were the slowest of Rin’s life.
Once the Warlords had exhausted their curiosity over her, they turned their attention to an enormous roster of problems economic, agricultural, and political. The Third Poppy War had wrecked nearly every province. Federation soldiers had destroyed most of the infrastructure in every major city they’d occupied, set fire to huge swaths of grain fields, and wiped out entire villages. Mass refugee movements had reshaped the human density of the country. This was the kind of disaster that would have taken miraculous effort from a unified central leadership to ameliorate, and the council of the twelve Warlords was anything but.
“Control your damn people,” said the Ox Warlord. “I have thousands streaming into my border as we speak and we don’t have a place for them.”
“What are we supposed to do, create a border guard?” The Hare Warlord had a distinctly plaintive, grating voice that made Rin wince every time he spoke. “Half my province is flooded, we haven’t got food stores to last the winter—”
“Neither do we,” said the Ox Warlord. “Send them elsewhere or we’ll all starve.”
