Rin knew that. She’d noticed the obvious poverty in Cholang’s camp. She could guess the extent of Dog Province’s forces based on his paltry personal guard. She knew this was not a base from which she could mount a resistance—it was too bare, too open, too vulnerable to air raids. She knew there was no army here, and certainly not one that could defeat a horde of dirigibles.
But she hadn’t come here for the army.
“This isn’t about troop numbers,” she said. “We just need a guide up the mountains.”
Cholang’s eyes narrowed. “Where are you trying to go?”
She nodded to the ridges in the distance.
His eyes widened. “Mount Tianshan?”
“There’s something up there that will help us win,” Rin said. “But you’ve got to escort us there.”
He looked skeptical. “Are you planning on telling me what it is?”
Rin exchanged a glance with Kitay, who shook his head.
“It’s best you don’t know,” she said truthfully. “Even my own officers don’t know.”
Cholang was quiet, examining her.
Rin understood his hesitation. He was a newly minted Warlord, saddled with his murdered father’s legacy, trying to find some way to keep his people alive when all the options looked bleak. And here she was, the Republic’s most wanted fugitive, asking him to defy caution to help her climb a distant mountain for a purpose he couldn’t discern.
This proposal was ludicrous. But he had to know, after the death of his father, that this was the only choice he had. Defiance was ludicrous. Hope was ludicrous. And the longer Cholang sat in silence, brows furrowed, the surer Rin was that he’d realized this as well.
“They tell stories about that mountain,” he said at last.
“What stories?” she asked.
“The mists up there are dense as walls,” he said. “The paths don’t act like paths should; they twist and loop back on themselves and send you walking in circles. If you lose your way, you’ll never find it again. And no one who’s ventured to the peak has come back alive.”
“Three people have,” Rin said. “And it’s about to be four.”
Cholang offered them hospitality in his settlement for the night. “It’s not much of a shelter,” he apologized. “This is a temporary outpost; it won’t be very comfortable. And we haven’t got the space to house everyone. But we can feed you, give you blankets, and send our physicians to tend to your wounded. My quarters are yours, if you want them.”
At first Rin declined out of etiquette, insisting that her tent was enough. But then Cholang showed her and Kitay to his rounded hut, an impressively sturdy structure that could provide far better shelter against the howling night winds than the flimsy, tattered walls of her tent, and she immediately acquiesced.
“Take it,” Cholang said. “I’ll sleep under the stars tonight.”
It had been so long since anyone had offered Rin such a simple kindness with no expectation of anything in return that it took her a moment to remember how to respond. “Thank you. Truly.”
“Rest well, Speerly.” He turned to leave. “We’ll march for Tianshan at dawn.”
A padded sleeping mat, at least two inches thick, occupied the center of the hut. Rin’s back and shoulders ached just looking at it. After weeks sleeping curled on the cold, hard dirt, it seemed an unimaginable luxury.
“Nice digs,” Kitay said, echoing her thoughts. “Do you want me to take the first watch?”
“No, you go ahead and sleep,” she said. “I want to think.”
She knew he was exhausted; she’d caught his eyes slipping closed more than once during their audience with Cholang. She sat cross-legged next to the mat, waited for Kitay to crawl under the covers, and then took his hand.
His fingers curled around hers. “Rin.”
“Yeah?”
His voice sounded very small in the dark. “I hope we know what we’re doing.”
She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and squeezed his fingers. “Me too.”
It was a meaningless, inadequate exchange, and didn’t come close to expressing the worries that weighed on both their minds, nor the enormity of what was coming next. But she knew what he meant. She knew his confusion, his fear, and his deep, bone-rattling terror that none of their choices were good—that they were navigating a jungle of snakes carrying the weight of the south’s future on their shoulders, and a single misstep would destroy it all.
They were going to wake Riga.
This, after many whispered debates, they’d decided. The calculation hadn’t changed.
They weren’t fools. They understood the risks, understood Jiang’s cryptic warnings. They knew the Trifecta would not be so benevolent as Daji claimed—that whatever Riga was, when at last he awoke, might be more dangerous than Nezha or the Republic.
But the Trifecta were Nikara. Yin Riga, unlike his nephew, would never bow to the Hesperians. They might have committed atrocities, and they might do so again, but their regime at least was anathema to Hesperian encroachment.
To mount an armed resistance without them was suicide; to surrender to the Republic would lead them to a fate worse than death. The Trifecta had been monsters—and Rin knew with certainty that they would become so again—but she needed monsters on her side. What other choice did they have?
Necessity didn’t make this any easier. Rin still felt, with every step they took toward Mount Tianshan, like a small animal walking into a trap. But they’d made their choice, and there was nothing they could do now but see it through and hope they came out alive.
She sat still in the darkness, holding Kitay’s hand tight until finally his breaths settled into a slow, easy rhythm.
“Don’t panic.”
Rin jumped to her feet. Fire shrouded her body. She crouched, ready to spring. She’d have to fight with flame—her sword was lying on the other side of the sleeping mat, too far to reach.
Should have known better. Her thoughts raced. Shouldn’t have trusted Cholang so easily, should have known he’d sell us out—
“Don’t panic,” the intruder said again, hands stretched out before him.
This time, his voice gave her pause. Rin recognized that voice. And she recognized the intruder’s face, too, once he stepped forward and his features became visible in the dim firelight.
“Holy fuck.” Despite herself, she burst out laughing. “It’s you.”
“Hello,” said Chaghan. “Could I steal you for a chat?”
“How did you know I would be here?” Rin asked.
They walked through Cholang’s camp unbothered. The sentries dipped their heads as they approached the perimeter and let them leave without question.
So Cholang must have known Chaghan was here. What’s more, he must have permitted him entry into her hut without warning her.
Asshole, Rin thought.
“I’ve been tracking you since you left Arabak,” Chaghan said. “I’m sorry for the surprise, by the way. I didn’t want to announce my presence.”
“How’d you convince Cholang to let you sneak through his camp?”
“The Hundred Clans have close ties to the frontier provinces,” Chaghan said. “In the Red Emperor’s time, Sinegard posted their poor bottom-ranked graduates out there to kill us.”