The Burning God (The Poppy War #3) - R.F. Kuang Page 0,152

He made the ultimate sacrifice for Arlong. But Arlong forgot him almost immediately. They saw his horrifying new form, his winding coils and sharp scales, and they received him with not gratitude but fear. Even his own wife did not recognize him. She took one look at him and screamed. Her brothers threw rocks at him and drove him out of the village, back into the grotto where he had spent decades praying to protect them. He . . .”

Vaisra’s voice trailed away.

Nezha glanced up. “Father?”

Vaisra was gazing silently at the tapestries. Confused, Nezha followed his eyes. None of these tapestries contained the story he’d just heard. They were all dynastic portraits, an endless row of finely embroidered likenesses of Nezha’s long-dead predecessors.

What was Father trying to tell him?

What sacrifices had the House of Yin made for Arlong?

“Your tutors told me you wanted to visit the grottoes,” Vaisra said suddenly.

Nezha stiffened. Was that what this was about? Was he in trouble? Yes, he’d asked, many more times than he should have. He’d begged and whined, pledging to keep to the shallows or even the opposite riverbank if only they’d let him get near enough to catch a glimpse inside the cave mouths.

“I apologize, Father,” he said. “I won’t ask again—I was just curious—”

“About what?”

“I thought—I mean, I’d heard about treasures, and I thought . . .” Nezha trailed off. His cheeks flamed. His words sounded stupid and childish as he uttered them. Silently he swore never to disobey his father’s word again.

But Vaisra didn’t chide him. He just gazed at Nezha for a very long time, his expression inscrutable. At last, he patted Nezha again on the shoulder.

“Don’t go to those grottoes, Nezha.” He sounded very tired then. “Don’t take on the burden of an entire nation. It’s too heavy. And you aren’t strong enough.”

Chapter 23

“If I counted right, the explosions on Mount Tianshan destroyed almost two-thirds of the Hesperian fleet in Nikan,” Kitay said. “That’s . . . that’s a lot.”

“Just two-thirds?” Cholang asked. “Not all?”

“Nezha didn’t send the entire fleet west,” Kitay said. “The last I heard, the Consortium had lent him forty-eight aircraft. We brought down six at the Anvil. I saw about thirty at the mountain. And we know that two escaped back west.”

“With any luck, Nezha wasn’t on them,” Venka muttered.

Rin rubbed at her aching eyes, too exhausted to laugh. The four of them—herself, Cholang, Kitay, and Venka—stood around the table in Cholang’s hut. They were all wan and twitchy with fatigue, yet their conference felt suffused with an urgent, burning energy. A quiet, astonished confidence; a taste of hope that none of them had felt for months.

This was the difference between fleeing for their lives and planning an assault. They all understood the magnitude of what might be in reach. It was madness. It was thrilling.

“How quickly do you think the Hesperians will send replacements?” Rin asked.

“I’m not sure,” Kitay said. “They’re probably vacillating. When I was in Arabak, I kept hearing rumors that the Consortium was reconsidering their investments. The longer Nezha took to solidify the south, the touchier they got about military aid. The Consortium’s a tricky entity—they need a unanimous vote from all member countries to commit troops in any foreign location. And their constituents are getting less comfortable losing lives—and the costs of airships, which are considerable—to a power they can’t understand.”

“So they’re cowards,” Cholang said. “Paper tigers. They came in ready to win our wars for us, but the moment they get scared, they’re all going to back off?”

“It won’t end this easily,” Rin said. “They’ve had designs on this continent for too long. We won’t scare them away with mere threats. We have to make it real.” She swallowed and lifted her chin. “If we want to finish this for good, we’ll have to occupy Arlong.”

No one laughed.

It was amazing how that simple sentence, which a week ago would have just sounded like a cruel joke, now seemed completely feasible. Defeating the Republic wasn’t a daydream anymore. It was a question of time frame.

Rin had survived the long march with only the barest fragments of an army. The numbers Kitay had collected were depressing. Half the soldiers who had left the Anvil were now dead or missing. The casualty rate for civilians reached two-thirds.

But Rin still commanded the survivors. And right now, she held the biggest military advantage she’d possessed since this war began.

The Hesperians were rattled. Nezha had just suffered a defeat of epic proportions. Instead of