The Burning God (The Poppy War #3) - R.F. Kuang Page 0,137

perimeter and let them leave without question.

So Cholang must have known Chaghan was here. What’s more, he must have permitted him entry into her hut without warning her.

Asshole, Rin thought.

“I’ve been tracking you since you left Arabak,” Chaghan said. “I’m sorry for the surprise, by the way. I didn’t want to announce my presence.”

“How’d you convince Cholang to let you sneak through his camp?”

“The Hundred Clans have close ties to the frontier provinces,” Chaghan said. “In the Red Emperor’s time, Sinegard posted their poor bottom-ranked graduates out there to kill us.”

“I take it that’s not how things turned out.”

“When you’re alone on the front, waging unprovoked warfare is the last thing you want to do,” Chaghan said. “We established strong trade relations a long time ago. We liked the Dog Province soldiers. We drew unofficial lines in the sand and agreed not to cross them, so long as they refrained from encroaching on our territory. It’s worked so far.”

Rin kept glancing sideways at him as they walked, amazed by how different he seemed. He was so much more solid. Before he’d been like a wraith, an ethereal spirit moving through the world like light passes through the air, present but never quite belonging. But now when he walked, he seemed as if he actually left footsteps.

“You’re staring at me,” he said.

“I’m curious,” she said. “You look different.”

“I feel different,” he said. “When I leave the material plane now, there’s no one on the other side pulling me back. I’ve had to learn to be my own anchor. It feels . . .”

She didn’t ask what it was like to miss Qara, every second of every day. She didn’t have to guess at the gaping pain, the clawing absence of that loss. She knew.

A thought struck her. “Then are you—”

“No. I’m dying,” he said bluntly. He didn’t seem bothered by this; he said it as casually as if informing her that he’d be going to market next week. “It gets harder every time—reaching the gods, I mean. I’m never going to be able to go as far out, or to stay as long, as I used to. Not if I want to wake up again. But I can’t stand spending all my time in this realm, this horribly . . . solid place.” He gestured about the steppe with disdain. “So I can’t stop. And one day I’ll go out too far. And I’m not going to come back.”

“Chaghan.” She stopped walking. She didn’t know what to say. “I . . .”

“I’m not particularly worried,” he said, and sounded like he meant it. “And I’d very much like to talk about something else.”

She changed the subject. “So how did you get on back home?” The last time she’d seen Chaghan, he’d been racing north on a warhorse following his cousin Bekter’s murderous coup. Back then, she’d feared he was riding to his death. But from the looks of it, he’d emerged from that power struggle unscathed, in charge, and with ample troops and resources.

“Well enough,” said Chaghan. “Obviously, Bekter’s not a problem anymore.”

Rin was impressed, if not terribly surprised. “How did you manage that?”

“Murder and conspiracy. The usual means, of course.”

“Of course. You lead the Ketreyids now, then?”

“Please, Rin.” He shot her a thin-lipped smile. “I lead the Hundred Clans. For the first time in a century we are united, and I speak here on their behalf.”

He nodded toward something in front of them. Rin glanced up. She had assumed they were only walking out of earshot of anyone in Cholang’s settlement, but when she followed Chaghan’s line of sight she saw campfires and lean silhouettes against the moonlight. They drew closer, and she made out dozens of cloth tents, resting horses, and sentries with bows at the ready. An army camp.

“You’ve brought a full contingent,” she said.

“Of course,” Chaghan said. “I wouldn’t march against the Trifecta with anything less.”

Rin stopped walking. The camaraderie between them vanished. She curled her palm into a fist, readying herself for a fight. “Chaghan—”

“I am here as a friend.” He held his hands up to display that he had no weapon, though Rin knew that with Chaghan, it didn’t matter. “But I know what you intend to do, and we desperately need to speak. Will you sit?”

“I want all your archers to leave their bows and quivers in a pile beside me,” she said. “And I want you to swear on your mother’s grave that I’ll be back safe with the southerners before dawn.”

“Rin, come