The Dragon Republic (The Poppy War #2) - R. F. Kuang Page 0,129

unannounced, holding a rolled-up scroll in one hand. Nezha followed in his wake, still limping on his walking stick. He refused to meet Rin’s eye.

“Hello, sir.” Kitay cheerfully waved a cow intestine at him. “I’ve solved your problem.”

Jinzha looked repulsed. “What is that?”

“Water mines. It’s how they blew up the fleet.” Kitay offered the intestine up to Jinzha for inspection.

Jinzha wrinkled his nose. “I’ll trust your word for it. Did you figure out how to deactivate them?”

“Yes, it’s easy enough if we just puncture the waterproofing. The hard part is finding the mines.” Kitay rubbed his chin. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any expert divers on deck.”

“I can figure that part out.” Jinzha spread his scroll over Kitay’s table. It was a closely detailed map of Rat Province, on which he’d circled in red ink a spot just inland of a nearby lake. “I need you to draw up detailed plans for an attack on Boyang. Here’s all the intelligence we have.”

Kitay leaned forward to examine the map. “This is for a springtime operation?”

“No. We attack as soon as we can get there.”

Kitay blinked twice. “You can’t be considering taking Boyang with a damaged fleet.”

“A full three-fourths of the fleet is serviceable. We’ve mostly lost skimmers—”

“And the warships?”

“Can be repaired in time.”

Kitay tapped his fingers on the table. “Do you have men to man those ships?”

Irritation flickered over Jinzha’s face. “We’ve redistributed the troops. There will be enough.”

“If you say so.” Kitay chewed at his thumbnail, staring intensely down at Jinzha’s scribbles. “There’s still a slight problem.”

“And what’s that?”

“Well, Lake Boyang’s an interesting natural phenomenon—”

“Get to the point,” Jinzha said.

Kitay traced his finger down the map. “Usually lake water levels go down during the summer and go up during colder seasons. That should advantage deep-hulled ships like ours. But Boyang gets its water source directly from Mount Tianshan, and during the winter—”

“Tianshan freezes,” Rin realized out loud.

“So what?” Jinzha asked. “That doesn’t mean the lake drains immediately.”

“No, but it means the water level goes down every day,” Kitay said. “And the shallower the lake, the less mobility your warships have, especially the Seahawks. I’m guessing the mines were put there to stall us.”

“Then how long do we have?” Jinzha pressed.

Kitay shrugged. “I’m not a prophet. I’d have to see the lake.”

“I told you it’s not worth it.” Nezha spoke up for the first time. “We should head back south while we still can.”

“And do what?” Jinzha demanded. “Hide? Grovel? Explain to Father why we’ve come home with our tails tucked between our legs?”

“No. Explain about the territory we’ve taken. The men we’ve added to our ranks. We regroup, and fight from a position of strength.”

“We have plenty of strength.”

“The entire Imperial Fleet will be waiting for us in that lake!”

“So we will take it from them,” Jinzha snarled. “We’re not running home to Father because we were scared of a fight.”

This isn’t really an argument, Rin thought. Jinzha had made up his mind, and he would shout down anyone who opposed him. Nezha—the younger brother, the inferior brother—was never going to change Jinzha’s mind.

Jinzha was hungry for this fight. Rin could read it so clearly on his face. And she could understand why he wanted it so badly. A victory at Boyang might effectively end this war. It might achieve the final and devastating proof of victory that the Hesperians were demanding. It might compensate for Jinzha’s latest string of failures.

She’d known a commander who made decisions like that before. His bones, if any had survived incineration, were lying at the bottom of Omonod Bay.

“Aren’t your troops worth more than your ego?” she asked. “Don’t sentence us to death just because you’ve been humiliated.”

Jinzha didn’t even deign to look at her. “Did I authorize you to talk?”

“She has a point,” Nezha said.

“I am warning you, brother.”

“She’s telling the truth,” Nezha said. “You’re just not listening because you’re terrified that someone else is right.”

Jinzha strode over to Nezha and casually slapped him across the face.

The crack echoed around the little room. Rin and Kitay sat frozen in their seats. Nezha’s head whipped to the side, where it stayed. Slowly he touched his fingers to his cheek, where a red mark was blooming outward over his scars. His chest rose and fell; he was breathing so heavily that Rin thought for sure he would strike back. But he did nothing.

“We could probably get to Boyang in time if we leave immediately,” Kitay said neutrally, as if nothing had happened.

“Then we’ll set sail within