The Burning God (The Poppy War #3) - R.F. Kuang Page 0,179

support of a recalcitrant ally that, judging from the quiet skies, had strongly reconsidered its commitments. Meanwhile, Rin had an army swelling in confidence, experience, and supplies. Above all, she had shamans.

And they were performing marvelously. After Dulin’s near breakdown at Jinzhou, Rin hadn’t expected them to last so long. She’d thought she might get a few weeks’ use from them at most before they inevitably died in battle or she had to kill them. She’d been particularly concerned about Lianhua, who regularly sank into daylong catatonic trances after her shifts on triage duty. This frightened Pipaji so much that she soon grew terrified of calling her own god, and had to be coaxed into participating in the next few battles.

But all three were getting more stable over time. Aside from a brief episode when Dulin was struck in the shoulder by an arrow and accidentally prompted an earthquake that split the battlefield with a ten-foot ravine, he never lost control again. Lianhua’s trances decreased to once a week, and then ceased completely. Pipaji managed to overcome her nerves; three weeks after Jinzhou, she infiltrated a village posing as a refugee and took out its entire defensive line that night by slipping through their ranks, brushing her fingers against every patch of exposed skin.

They all learned to cope in their own ways. Dulin started meditating at night, sitting cross-legged on the dirt for hours on end. Lianhua sang to herself while she worked to keep herself grounded, going through a wide array of folk ballads and ditties in an impressively lovely soprano. Pipaji began disappearing from camp every evening shortly after dinner, and rarely came back until after dusk.

One night Rin, slightly worried, followed her out of camp. She was relieved to discover that all Pipaji did was stand still in the forest, surrounded by trees with no other human beings in sight, and breathe.

“You’re not very good at hiding,” Pipaji said after a while.

Rin stepped into the clearing. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“It’s all right.” Pipaji looked somewhat embarrassed. “I don’t ever stay out here for very long. I just like to go where it’s quiet. Where there’s nobody I can hurt. It’s, um, relaxing.”

Rin felt an odd twinge in her chest. “That’s prudent.”

“You can stay if you want.”

Rin lifted her eyebrows, somewhat touched. “Thank you.”

For a moment they stood side by side, listening to the katydids shriek. It was, Rin agreed, oddly relaxing.

“You don’t get to go back to normal,” Pipaji said abruptly.

“Hmm?”

“I noticed your eyes. They’re always red. Our eyes go back to normal. Yours don’t. Why?”

“Because I’m too far gone,” Rin said. She was only partly lying. “I can’t shut it out anymore.”

“Then what brings you back?” Pipaji demanded. “Why haven’t you lost it like—like the rest of them?”

Rin considered telling her about the anchor bond. But what was the point? That option would never be possible for Pipaji—revealing it would only be cruel. And the fewer people who knew about Kitay, the better.

She liked Pipaji, but she wasn’t going to trust the girl with her life.

“I’ve struck a deal with my god,” she said after a pause. “And it’s learned to stay put.”

“You didn’t tell us about that.”

“Because it’s the least likely outcome,” Rin said. “You knew how this would end. There’s no point giving you hope.”

Her words came out flat and cold. She couldn’t think of anything reassuring to say, and she suspected Pipaji didn’t want to hear it. All her recruits had known this could only end two ways for them: death, or the Chuluu Korikh. She’d warned them many times over; she’d made sure they understood that volunteering was a death sentence.

“I’m not going to survive this war,” Pipaji said after a long silence.

“You don’t know that,” Rin said.

Pipaji shook her head. “I’m not strong enough. You’ll kill me. You’ll need to kill me.”

Rin gave her a pitying look. What good would lying do?

“Do you want me to say I’m sorry?”

“No.” Pipaji snorted. “We knew what we signed up for.”

And that was all it took to assuage Rin’s conscience. She hadn’t done anything wrong if they’d chosen this themselves. Dulin, Lianhua, and Pipaji were still here because they’d decided it was worth it. They’d foreseen and accepted their deaths. She’d offered them weapons, the only weapons strong enough to alter their miserable world, and they’d taken them. These were the choices war produced.

Several weeks later they occupied a small port town on the Western Murui at the border between Ram and