The Poppy War полностью

“She didn’t stab herself,” said Ramsa. “She burned to death. Imploded from inside. Boom.” He spread his fingers in the air.

“Why did she kill herself?” Rin asked. “I never understood that story.”

“In the version I heard, she was in love with the Red Emperor,” said Baji. “He comes to her island, and she’s immediately besotted with him. He turns around and threatens to invade the island if Speer doesn’t become a tributary state. And she’s so distraught at his betrayal that she flees to her temple and kills herself.”

Rin wrinkled her nose. Every version she heard of the myth made Tearza seem more and more stupid.

“It is not a love story.” Qara spoke up from her corner for the first time. Their eyes flickered toward her with mild surprise.

“That myth is Nikara propaganda,” she continued flatly. “The story of Tearza was modeled on the myth of Han Ping, because the story makes for a better telling than the truth.”

“And what is the truth?” asked Rin.

“You don’t know?” Qara fixed Rin with a somber gaze. “Speerlies especially ought to know.”

“Obviously I don’t. So how would you tell it?”

“I would tell it not as a love story, but as a story of gods and humans.” Qara’s voice dropped to such a low volume that the Cike had to lean in to hear her. “They say Tearza could have called the Phoenix and saved the isle. They say that if Tearza had summoned the flames, Nikan never would have been able to annex Speer. They say that if she wanted to, Tearza could have summoned such a power that the Red Emperor and his armies would not have dared set foot on Speer, not for a thousand years.”

Qara paused. She did not take her eyes off Rin.

“And then?” Rin pressed.

“Tearza refused,” Qara said. “She said the independence of Speer did not warrant the sacrifice the Phoenix demanded. The Phoenix declared that Tearza had broken her vows as the ruler of Speer, and so it punished her for it.”

Rin was quiet for a moment. Then she asked, “Do you think she was right?”

Qara shrugged. “I think Tearza was wise. And I think that she was a bad ruler. Shamans should know when to resist the power of the gods. That is wisdom. But rulers should do everything in their power to save their country. That is responsibility. If you hold the fate of the country in your hands, if you have accepted your obligation to your people, then your life ceases to be your own. Once you accept the title of ruler, your choices are made for you. In those days, to rule Speer meant serving the Phoenix. Speer used to be a proud race. A free people. When Tearza killed herself, the Speerlies became little more than the Emperor’s mad dogs. Tearza has the blood of Speer on her hands. Tearza deserved what she got.”

When Altan returned from reporting to the Warlords, most of the Cike had drifted off to sleep. Rin remained awake, staring at the flickering bonfire.

“Hey,” he said, and sat down next to her. He smelled of smoke.

She drew her knees up to her chest and tilted her head sideways to look at him. “How’d they take it?”

Altan smiled. It was the first time she’d seen him smile since they came to Khurdalain. “They couldn’t believe it. How are you doing?”

“Embarrassed,” she said frankly, “and still a little high.”

He leaned back and crossed his arms. His smile disappeared. “What happened?”

“Couldn’t concentrate,” she said. Got scared. Held off. Did everything you told me not to do.

Altan looked faintly puzzled, and more than a little disappointed.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice.

“No, it’s my fault.” His voice was carefully neutral. “I threw you into combat before you were ready. At the Night Castle, you would have trained for months before we put you in the field.”

This was meant to make her feel better, but Rin only felt ashamed.

“I couldn’t clear my mind,” she said.

“Then don’t,” Altan said. “Open-minded meditation is for monks. It only gets you to the Pantheon, it doesn’t bring the god back down with you. You don’t need to open your mind to all sixty-four deities. You only need our god. You only need the fire.”

“But Jiang said that was dangerous.”

Though Rin thought she saw a spasm of impatience flicker across Altan’s face, his tone remained carefully neutral. “Because Jiang feared, and so he held you back. Were you acting under his orders when you called the Phoenix at Sinegard?”

“No,” she admitted, “but—”

“Have you ever successfully called a god under Jiang’s instruction? Did Jiang even teach you how? I’ll bet he did the opposite. I’ll bet he wanted you to shut them out.”