“Why not?”
She told them about Moag’s ploy. “She’d have sold us to Daji if Vaisra hadn’t offered her something better. He sank our ship because he wanted her to think that we’d died.”
“So it’s Vaisra or nothing,” Ramsa said. “That’s just fantastic.”
“Is this Yin Vaisra really so bad?” Suni asked. “He’s just one man.”
“That’s true,” said Baji. “He can’t be any scarier than the other Warlords. The Ox and Ram Warlords weren’t anything special. It’s nepotism and inbreeding all around.”
“Oh, so like how you were produced,” said Ramsa.
“Listen, you little bitch—”
“Join them,” Chaghan said. His voice was hardly louder than a whisper, but the cabin fell silent. It was the first time he had spoken all evening.
“You’re debating this like you get to decide,” he said. “You don’t. You really think Vaisra’s going to let you go if you say no? He’s too smart for that. He’s just told you his intentions to commit treason. He’ll have you killed if there’s even the slightest risk you’d go to anyone else.” He gave Rin a grim look. “Face it, Speerly. It’s join up or die.”
“You’re gloating,” Rin accused.
“I would never,” said Nezha. He’d been beaming the entire way down the passageway, showing her around the warship like some ebullient tour guide. “But glad to have you on board.”
“Shut up.”
“Can’t I be happy? I’ve missed you.” Nezha stopped before a room on the first deck. “After you.”
“What’s this?”
“Your new quarters.” He opened the door for her. “Look, it locks from the inside four different ways. Thought you’d like that.”
She did like it. The room was twice as large as her quarters on her old ship, and the bed was a proper bed, not a cot with lice-ridden sheets. She stepped inside. “I have this all to myself?”
“I told you.” Nezha sounded smug. “The Dragon Army has its benefits.”
“Ah, that’s what you call yourselves?”
“Technically it’s the Army of the Republic. Nonprovincial, and all that.”
“You’d need allies for that.”
“We’re working on it.”
She turned toward the porthole. Even in the darkness she could see how fast the Seagrim was moving, slicing through black waves at speeds faster than Aratsha had ever been capable of. By morning Moag and her fleet would be dozens of miles behind them.
But Rin couldn’t leave Ankhiluun like this. Not yet. She had one more thing to retrieve.
“You said Moag thinks we’re dead?” she asked.
“I’d be surprised if she didn’t. We even tossed some charred corpses in the water.”
“Whose bodies?”
Nezha stretched his arms over his head. “Does it matter?”
“I suppose not.” The sun had just set over the water. Soon the Ankhiluuni pirate patrol would begin to make its rounds around the coast. “Do you have a smaller boat? One that can sneak past Moag’s ships?”
“Of course,” he scoffed. “Why, do you need to go back?”
“I don’t,” she said. “But you’ve forgotten someone.”
By all accounts Kitay’s audience with Vaisra was an unmitigated disaster. Captain Eriden wouldn’t let Rin onto the second deck, so she was unable to eavesdrop, but about an hour after they brought Kitay on board, she saw Nezha and two soldiers dragging him to the lower level. She ran down the passageway to catch up.
“—and I don’t care if you’re pissed, you can’t throw food at the Dragon Warlord,” said Nezha.
Kitay’s face was purple with anger. If he was at all relieved to see Nezha alive, he didn’t show it. “Your men tried to blow up my house!”
“They tend to do that,” Rin said.
“We had to make it look like you’d died,” Nezha said.
“I was still in it!” Kitay cried. “And so were my ledgers!”
Nezha looked amazed. “Who gives a shit about your ledgers?”
“I was doing the city’s taxes.”
“What?”
Kitay stuck his lower lip out. “And I was almost done.”
“What the fuck?” Nezha blinked. “I don’t—Rin, you talk some sense into this idiot.”
“I’m the idiot?” Kitay demanded. “Me? You’re the ones who think it’d be a good idea to start a bloody civil war—”
“Because the Empire needs one,” Nezha insisted. “Daji’s the reason why the Federation invaded; she’s the reason why Golyn Niis—”
“You were not at Golyn Niis,” Kitay snarled. “Don’t talk to me about Golyn Niis.”
“Fine—I’m sorry—but shouldn’t that justify a regime change? She’s hamstrung the Militia, she’s fucked our foreign relations, she’s not fit to rule—”
“You have no proof of that.”
“We do have proof.” Nezha stopped walking. “Look at your scars. Look at me. The proof’s written on our skin.”
“I don’t care,” Kitay said. “I don’t give a shit what your politics are, I want to go home.”
“And do what?” Nezha asked. “And fight for whom? There’s a war coming, Kitay, and when it’s here, there will be no such thing as neutrality.”
“That’s not true. I shall seclude myself and live the virtuous life of a scholarly hermit,” Kitay said stiffly.
“Stop,” Rin said. “Nezha’s right. Now you’re just being stubborn.”
He rolled his eyes at her. “Of course you’re in on this madness. What did I expect?”
“Maybe it’s madness,” she said. “But it’s better than fighting for the Militia. Come on, Kitay. You know you can’t go back to the status quo.”
She could see it in Kitay’s eyes, how badly he wanted to resolve the contradiction between loyalty and justice—because Kitay, poor, upright, moral Kitay, always so concerned with doing what was right, couldn’t reconcile himself to the fact that a military coup might be justified.
He flung his hands in the air. “Even so, you think I’m in a position to join your republic? My father is the Imperial defense minister.”
“Then he’s serving the wrong ruler,” said Nezha.
“You don’t understand! My entire family is at the heart of the capital. They could use them against me—my mother, my sister—”
“We could extract them,” Nezha said.
“Oh, like you extracted me? Very nice, I’m sure they’ll love getting abducted in the middle of the night while their house burns down.”
“Calm down,” Rin said. “They’d still be alive. You wouldn’t have to worry.”
“Like you’d know how it feels,” Kitay snapped. “The closest thing you had to a family was a suicidal maniac who got