The Dragon Republic (The Poppy War #2) - R. F. Kuang Page 0,26

brain still felt terribly sluggish, but this fact struck her as very, very important. “You fired opium onto my ship!”

“Would you rather we fired real missiles? We were trying not to hurt you.”

“Your men bound us to the mast for hours!”

“Because they didn’t want to die!” Nezha lowered his voice. “Look, I’m sorry it came to that. We needed to get you out of Ankhiluun. We weren’t trying to hurt you.”

His placating tone only made her angrier. She wasn’t a fucking child; he couldn’t calm her with soothing whispers. “You let me think you were dead.”

“What did you want, a letter? It’s not like it was terribly easy to track you down, either.”

“A letter would have been better than bombing my ship!”

“Are you ever going to let that go?”

“It’s a rather large thing to let go!”

“I will explain everything if you come with me,” he said. “Can you walk? Please? My father’s waiting for us.”

“Your father?” she repeated dumbly.

“Come on, Rin. You know who my father is.”

She blinked at him. Then it hit her.

Oh.

Either she’d been hit by a massive stroke of fortune, or she was about to die.

“Just me?” she asked.

Nezha’s eyes flickered toward the Cike, lingering briefly on Chaghan. “I was told you’re the commander now?”

She hesitated. She hadn’t been acting much like a commander. But the title was hers, even if in name only. “Yes.”

“Then just you.”

“I’m not going without my men.”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that.”

She stuck her chin out. “Sucks, then.”

“Do you seriously think any of them are in a state for an audience with a Warlord?” Nezha gestured toward the Cike. Suni was still asleep, the puddle of drool widening under his mouth. Chaghan stared open-mouthed at the sky, fascinated, and Ramsa had his eyes squeezed shut, giggling at nothing in particular.

It was the first time Rin had ever been glad she’d developed such a high tolerance for opium.

“I need your word you won’t hurt them,” she said.

Nezha looked offended. “Please. You’re not prisoners.”

“Then what are we?”

“Mercenaries,” he said delicately. “Think of it that way. You’re mercenaries out of a job, and my father has a very generous offer for your consideration.”

“What if we don’t like it?”

“I really think you will.” Nezha motioned for Rin to follow him down the deck, but she remained where she stood.

“Feed my men while we’re gone, then. A hot meal, not leftovers.”

“Rin, come on—”

“Give them baths, too. And then take them to their own quarters. Not the brig. Those are my terms. Also, Ramsa doesn’t like fish.”

“He’s been operating out of the coast and he doesn’t like fish?”

“He’s picky.”

Nezha muttered something to the captain, who adopted a face like he’d been forced to sniff curdled milk.

“Done,” Nezha said. “Now will you come?”

She took a step and stumbled. Nezha extended his arm toward her. She let him help her to the edge of the ship.

“Thanks, Commander,” Ramsa called behind them. “Try not to die.”

The Hesperian warship Seagrim loomed huge over their rowboat, swallowing them completely in its shadow. Rin couldn’t help but stare in awe at its sheer scale. She could have fit half of Tikany on that warship, temple included.

How did a monstrosity like that stay afloat? And how did it move? She couldn’t see any oars. The Seagrim appeared to be just like the Cormorant, a ghost vessel with no visible crew.

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a shaman powering that thing,” she said.

“If only. No, that’s a paddle-wheel boat.”

“What’s that?”

He grinned. “Have you heard the legend of the Old Sage of Arlong?”

She rolled her eyes. “Who’s that, your grandfather?”

“Great-grandfather. The legend goes, the old sage was staring at a water wheel watering the fields and thought about reversing the circumstances; if he moved the wheel, then the water must move. Fairly obvious principle, isn’t it? Incredible how long it took for someone to apply it to ships.

“See, the old Imperial ships were idiotically designed. Propelled by sculls from the top deck. Problem with that is if your rowers get shot out, you’re dead in the water. But the paddle-wheel pushers are on the bottom deck. Entirely enclosed by the hull, totally protected from enemy artillery. A bit of an improvement from old models, eh?”

Nezha seemed to enjoy talking about ships. Rin heard a distinct note of pride in his voice as he pointed out the ridges at the bottom of the warship. “You see those? They’re concealing the paddle wheels.”

She couldn’t help but stare at his face while he talked. Up close his scars weren’t so unsettling,