The Burning God (The Poppy War #3) - R.F. Kuang Page 0,160

of questioning. All she’d ever wanted from Jiang were direct answers, but he’d withheld them from her for months. She didn’t need to repeat that frustration. “The first thing you must accept is that the gods exist. They are real and tangible, as present and visible as any of us are. Perhaps even more so. Can you believe that?”

“Of course,” Dulin said.

The others nodded in agreement.

“Good. The gods reside in a plane beyond this one. You can think of it as the heavens. Our task as shamans is to call them down to affect the matter around us. We act as the conduit—the gateway to divine power.”

“What kind of place is the heavens?” Pipaji asked.

Rin paused, wondering how best to explain. How had Jiang once described it? “The only place that’s real. The place where nothing is decided. The place you visit when you dream.”

This met with puzzled stares. Rin realized she wasn’t getting anywhere. She decided to start over, trying to think of the right words to explain concepts that by now were as familiar to her as breathing.

“You’ve got to stop thinking of our world as the one true domain,” she said. “This world isn’t permanent. It does not objectively exist, whatever that means. The great sage Zhuangzi once said that he didn’t know whether he dreamed of transforming into a butterfly at night, or whether he was always living in a butterfly’s dream. This world is a butterfly’s dream. This world is the gods’ dream. And when we dream of the gods, that just means we’ve woken up. Does that make sense?”

The recruits looked bewildered.

“Not in the least,” Merchi said.

Fair enough. Rin could hear how much her own words sounded like gibberish, even though she also fully believed them to be true.

Small wonder she’d once thought Jiang mad. How on earth did you explain the cosmos while appearing sane?

She tried a different approach. “Don’t overthink it. Just conceive of it like this. Our world is a puppet show, and the things we think of as objectively material are only shadows. Everything is constantly changing, constantly in flux. And the gods lurk behind the scenes, wielding the puppets.”

“But you want us to seize the puppets,” Pipaji said.

“Right!” Rin said. “Good. That’s all shamanism is. It’s recasting reality.”

“Then why would they let us?” Pipaji asked. “If I were a god I wouldn’t want to just lend someone my power.”

“The gods don’t care about things like that. They don’t think like people; they’re not selfish actors. They’re . . . they’re instincts. They have a single, focusing drive. In the Pantheon, they’re kept in balance by all the rest. But when you open the gate, you let them inflict their will on the world.”

“What is the will of your god?” Pipaji asked.

“To burn,” Rin said easily. “To devour and cleanse. But every god is different. The Monkey God wants chaos. The Dragon wants to possess.”

“And how many gods are there?” Pipaji pressed.

“Sixty-four,” Rin said. “Sixty-four gods of the Pantheon, all opposing forces that make up this world.”

“Opposing forces,” Pipaji repeated slowly. “So they are all different instincts. And they all want different things.”

“Yes! Excellent.”

“So then how do we choose?” Pipaji asked. “Or do they choose us? Did the god of fire choose you because you’re a Speerly, or—”

“Hold on,” Merchi interrupted. “Can we bring this down from the level of abstraction? The gods, the Pantheon—great, fine, whatever. How do we call them?”

“One thing at a time,” Rin told him. “We’ve just got to get through basic theory—”

“The drugs are the key, right?” Merchi asked. “That’s what I’ve heard.”

“We’ll get there. The drugs give you access, yes, but first you have to understand what you’re accessing—”

“So the drugs give you abilities?” Merchi interrupted again. “Which drugs? Laughing mushrooms? Poppy seeds?”

“That’s not—we’re not—no. Have you even been listening?” Rin had the sudden urge to smack him on the temple, like Jiang used to whenever he thought she was getting too impatient. She was starting to understand, now, what an insufferable student she must have been. “The drugs don’t bestow abilities. They don’t do anything except allow you to see the world as it really is. The gods bear the power. They are the power. All we can do is let them through.”

“Why don’t you ever need to take drugs?” Pipaji asked.

That caught Rin off guard. “How do you know that?”

“I was watching you during the march,” Pipaji said. “You had a fire in your hand from day to night, but you always