“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, something was in the last stages of decay.