The Burning God (The Poppy War #3) - R.F. Kuang Page 0,135

lovely place. Temples carved into the mountainside, great statues the height of buildings everywhere you look. We abandoned it the moment they sent what I presume was my father’s head back in a basket. Wasn’t keen to get stabbed in my bed.”

“Looks like you’ve been given a stay of execution for now,” Rin said.

Cholang shot her a wry look. “Only because we’ve never figured largely on the Nikara chessboard before. No one quite knows what to do with us.”

That was true. Dog Province had always been an outlier in Imperial politics. They were too distant from centers of power to feel the yoke of any regime, but none of the heartland emperors had ever tried very hard to exert more control, because the sparse, arid plateau held so very little worth controlling. The Dogs herded livestock for subsistence and they didn’t trade. Their land wasn’t worth cultivating; nothing but grass could take root in the thin, rocky soil.

“But you must know the Republic won’t ignore you forever,” Rin said.

“We’re well aware.” Cholang sighed. “It’s about principle, I expect. Regime change requires total domination. Otherwise, if you’ve got cracks in your foundation even before you’ve begun to rule, that sets a poor precedent.”

“It’s not just that,” Kitay said. “It’s your minerals. Nezha told me the Hesperians were discussing it. They think there’s coal, tungsten, and silver under this plateau. They’re very excited about it—they’ve prepared all kinds of machines to drill beneath the earth’s surface once they know it’s safe to move in.”

Cholang seemed unsurprised. “And I expect their definition of safe involves our complete removal.”

“More or less,” Kitay said.

“Then we’re on the same page,” Rin said eagerly. Perhaps too eagerly—she could hear the naked hunger in her own voice—but the Southern Army had marched for so long on only the smallest shreds of hope that she was desperate to solidify this alliance. “You need us. We need you. We’ll take whatever hospitality you can offer—my soldiers are starved, but they’re disciplined—and then we can take stock of how many forces we’ve got—”

Cholang held up a hand to cut her off. “You won’t find your alliance here, Speerly.”

She faltered. “But the Republic is your enemy.”

“The Republic has enforced sanctions on the plateau since your march began.” Cholang’s voice bore no trace of hostility, only wary resignation. “We’re barely holding out ourselves. And we have no defenses to mount. Our population has always been a fraction of those of other provinces, and we have no weapons other than bows and farming implements. Certainly no fire powder. I can offer you a good meal and a night’s rest. But if you’re looking for an army here, you won’t find it.”

Rin knew that. She’d noticed the obvious poverty in Cholang’s camp. She could guess the extent of Dog Province’s forces based on his paltry personal guard. She knew this was not a base from which she could mount a resistance—it was too bare, too open, too vulnerable to air raids. She knew there was no army here, and certainly not one that could defeat a horde of dirigibles.

But she hadn’t come here for the army.

“This isn’t about troop numbers,” she said. “We just need a guide up the mountains.”

Cholang’s eyes narrowed. “Where are you trying to go?”

She nodded to the ridges in the distance.

His eyes widened. “Mount Tianshan?”

“There’s something up there that will help us win,” Rin said. “But you’ve got to escort us there.”

He looked skeptical. “Are you planning on telling me what it is?”

Rin exchanged a glance with Kitay, who shook his head.

“It’s best you don’t know,” she said truthfully. “Even my own officers don’t know.”

Cholang was quiet, examining her.

Rin understood his hesitation. He was a newly minted Warlord, saddled with his murdered father’s legacy, trying to find some way to keep his people alive when all the options looked bleak. And here she was, the Republic’s most wanted fugitive, asking him to defy caution to help her climb a distant mountain for a purpose he couldn’t discern.

This proposal was ludicrous. But he had to know, after the death of his father, that this was the only choice he had. Defiance was ludicrous. Hope was ludicrous. And the longer Cholang sat in silence, brows furrowed, the surer Rin was that he’d realized this as well.

“They tell stories about that mountain,” he said at last.

“What stories?” she asked.

“The mists up there are dense as walls,” he said. “The paths don’t act like paths should; they twist and loop back on themselves and send