The Poppy War (The Poppy War #1) - R. F. Kuang Page 0,125
have.”
“He was still my master,” she said, feeling an instinctive urge to defend him.
“He’s not your master anymore. You don’t have a master. You have a commander.” Altan put a hand on her shoulder. “The easiest shortcut to the state is anger. Build on your anger. Don’t ever let go of that anger. Rage gives you power. Caution does not.”
Rin wanted to believe him. She was in awe of the extent of Altan’s power. And she knew that, if she allowed it, the same power could be her own.
And yet, Jiang’s warnings echoed in the back of her mind.
I have met spirits unable to find their bodies again. I have met men who are only halfway to the spirit realm, caught between our world and the next.
Was that the price of power? For her mind to shatter, like Suni’s clearly had? Would she become neurotically paranoid, like Unegen?
But Altan’s mind hadn’t shattered. Among the Cike, Altan used his abilities most recklessly. Baji and Suni needed hallucinogens to call their gods, but the fire was never more than a whisper away for Altan. He seemed to always be in that state of rage he wanted Rin to cultivate. And yet he never lost control. He gave an incredible illusion of sanity and stability, whatever was going on below his dispassionate mask.
Who is imprisoned in the Chuluu Korikh?
Unnatural criminals, who have committed unnatural crimes.
She suspected she knew now what Jiang’s question had meant.
She didn’t want to admit that she was scared. Scared of being in a state where she had little control of herself, less still of the fires pouring out of her. Scared of being consumed by the fire, becoming a conduit that demanded more and more sacrifice for her god.
“The last time I did it, I couldn’t stop,” she said. “I had to beg it. I don’t—I don’t know how to control myself when I’ve called the Phoenix.”
“Think of it like a candle,” he said. “Difficult to light. Only this is even more difficult to extinguish, and if you’re not careful, you’ll burn yourself.”
But that didn’t help at all—she’d tried lighting the candle, yet nothing had happened. So what would happen if she finally figured that out, only to be unable to extinguish the flames? “Then how do you do it? How do you make it stop?”
Altan leaned back away from the flames.
“I don’t,” he said.
Chapter 15
The Ram and Ox Warlords quickly realigned to Altan’s side once they realized the Cike had accomplished what the First, Fifth, and Eighth Divisions together had not even attempted. They disseminated the news through the ranks in a way that made it seem that they were jointly responsible for the feat.
Khurdalain’s citizens threw a victory parade to raise morale and collect supplies for the soldiers. Civilians donated food and clothing to the barracks. When the Warlords paraded through the streets, they were met with wide applause that they were only too happy to accept.
The civilians assumed the marsh victory had been achieved through a massive joint assault. Altan did nothing to correct them.
“Lying fart-bags,” Ramsa complained. “They’re stealing your credit.”
“Let them,” said Altan. “If it means they’ll work with me, let them say anything they want.”
Altan had needed that victory. In a cohort of generals who had survived the Poppy Wars, Altan was the youngest commander by decades. The battle at the marsh had given him much-needed credibility in the eyes of the Militia, and more important, in the eyes of the Warlords. They treated him now with deference instead of condescension, consulted him in their war councils, and not only listened to Cike intelligence but acted on it.
Only Jun offered no congratulations.
“You’ve left a thousand starving enemy soldiers in the wetlands with no supplies and no food,” Jun said slowly.
“Yes,” Altan said. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
“You idiot,” said Jun. He paced about the office, circled back, then slammed his hands on Altan’s desk. “You idiot. Do you realize what you’ve done?”
“Secured a victory,” Altan said, “which is more than you’ve managed in the weeks you’ve been here. Their supply ship has turned all the way back to the longbow island to restock. We’ve set their plans back at least two weeks.”
“You’ve invited retaliation,” Jun snapped. “Those soldiers are cold, wet, and hungry. Maybe they didn’t care much about this war when they crossed the narrow strait, but now they’re angry. They’re pissed, they’re humiliated, and more than anything they desperately need supplies. You’ve raised the stakes for them.”