where she was, keeping her arrow trained at Suni’s head.
“They’re being so loud,” said Suni. “I can’t understand what they’re saying.”
“I can tell you everything you need to know,” Altan said quietly. “Just put your arms down, Suni, can you do that for me?”
“I’m scared,” Suni whimpered.
“We don’t point arrows at our friends,” Altan snapped without moving his head.
Qara lowered her longbow. Her arms shook visibly.
Altan walked slowly toward Suni, arms spread out in supplication. “It’s me. It’s just me.”
“Are you going to help me?” Suni asked. His voice didn’t match his demeanor. He sounded like a little child—terrified, helpless.
“Only if you let me,” Altan answered.
Suni dropped his arms.
Rin’s sword trembled in her hands. She was certain that Suni would snap Altan’s neck.
“They’re so loud,” Suni said. “They keep telling me to do things, I don’t know who to listen to . . .”
“Listen to me,” said Altan. “Just me.”
With brisk, short steps, he closed the gap between himself and Suni.
Suni tensed. Qara’s hands flew to her longbow again; Rin crouched to spring forward.
Suni’s massive hand closed around Altan’s. He took a deep breath. Altan touched his forehead gently and brought Suni’s forehead down to his own.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re fine. You’re Suni and you belong to the Cike. You don’t have to listen to any voices. You just have to listen to me.”
Eyes closed, Suni nodded. His heavy breathing subsided. A lopsided grin broke out over his face. When he opened his eyes, the wildness had left them.
“Hi, Trengsin,” he said. “Good to have you back.”
Altan exhaled slowly, then nodded and clapped Suni on the shoulder.
Chapter 14
“So much of a siege is sitting around on your ass,” Ramsa complained. “You know how much actual fighting there’s been since the Federation started landing on the beach in droves? None. We’re just scouting each other out, testing the limits, playing chicken.”
Ramsa had recruited Rin to help him fortify the back alleys of the intersection by the wharf.
They were slowly transforming the streets of Khurdalain into defense lines. Each evacuated house became a fort; each intersection became a trap of barbed wire. They had spent the morning methodically knocking holes through walls to link the labyrinth of lanes into a navigable transportation system to which only the Nikara had the map. Now they were filling bags with sand to pad the gaps in the walls against Federation bombardments.
“I thought you blew up an embassy building,” said Rin.
“That was one time,” Ramsa snapped. “More action than anyone’s attempted since we got here, anyhow.”
“You mean the Federation hasn’t attacked yet?”
“They’ve launched exploratory parties to sniff out the borders. No major troop movements yet.”
“And they’ve been at it this long? Why?”
“Because Khurdalain’s better fortified than Sinegard. Khurdalain withstood the first two Poppy Wars, and it sure as hell is going to make it through a third.” Ramsa bent down. “Pass me that bag.”
She hauled it up, and he hoisted it to the top of the fortification with a grunt.
Rin couldn’t help liking the scrawny urchin, who reminded her of a younger Kitay, if Kitay ad been a one-eyed pyromaniac with an unfortunate adoration for explosions. She wondered how long he’d had been with the Cike. He looked impossibly young. How did a child end up on the front lines of a war?
“You’ve got a Sinegardian accent,” she noticed.
Ramsa nodded. “Lived there for a while. My family were alchemists for the Militia base in the capital. Oversaw fire powder production.”
“So what are you doing here?”
“You mean with the Cike?” Ramsa shrugged. “Long story. Father got wrapped up in some political stuff, ended up turning on the Empress. Extremists, you know. Could have been the Opera, but I’ll never be sure. Anyways, he tried to detonate a rocket over the palace and ended up blowing up our factory instead.” He pointed to his eyepatch. “Burned my eyeball right out. Daji’s guards lopped the heads off everyone remotely involved. Public execution and everything.”
Rin blinked, mostly stunned by Ramsa’s breezy delivery. “Then what about you?”
“I got off easy. Father never told me much about his plans, so after they realized I didn’t know anything, they just tossed me into Baghra. I think they thought killing a kid might make them look bad.”
“Baghra?”
Ramsa nodded cheerfully. “Worst two years of my life. Near the tail end, the Empress paid me a visit and said she’d let me out if I worked on munitions for the Cike.”
“And you just said yes?”
“Do you know what Baghra is like? By then, I was