The Poppy War полностью

Altan raised an eyebrow. She immediately regretted opening her mouth. Why had she said that? Why did she exist? She wanted to crumble into ashes and scatter away into the air.

But Altan just looked surprised, not irritated. “Stick around Jiang long enough, and you’ll learn plenty of arcane forms.” He shifted his weight to his back leg and brought his arms in a flowing motion around to the other side of his torso.

Rin’s cheeks burned. She felt very clumsy and vast, like she was taking up space that belonged to Altan, even though she was on the other end of the garden. “Master Jiang didn’t say anyone else liked to come here.”

“Jiang likes to forget about a lot of things.” He tilted his head at her. “You must be quite the student, if Jiang’s taken an interest in you.”

Was that bitterness in his voice, or was she imagining things?

She remembered then that Jiang had withdrawn his bid for Altan, right after Altan had declared he wanted to pledge Lore. She wondered what had happened, and if it still bothered Altan. She wondered if she’d annoyed him by bringing Jiang up.

“I stole a book from the library,” she managed. “He thought that was funny.”

Why was she still talking? Why was she still here?

The corner of Altan’s mouth quirked up in a terribly attractive grin, which set her heart beating erratically. “What a rebel.”

She flushed, but Altan just turned away and completed the form.

“Don’t let me stop you from training,” he said.

“No, I—I came here to think. But if you’re here—”

“I’m sorry. I can leave.”

“No, it’s okay.” She didn’t know what she was saying. “I was going to—I mean, I’ll just . . . bye.”

She quickly backed out of the garden. Altan didn’t say anything else.

Once she had closed the garden gates behind her, Rin buried her face in her hands and groaned.

“Is there ever a place for meekness in battle?” Irjah asked. This was the seventh question he had posed to her.

Rin was on a streak. Seven was the maximum number of questions any master could ask, and if she nailed this one, she would ace Irjah’s exam. And she knew the answer—it was lifted directly from Sunzi’s Twenty-Second Mandate.

She lifted her chin and responded in a loud, clear voice. “Yes, but only for the purposes of deception. Sunzi writes that if your opponent is of choleric temper, you should seek to irritate him. Pretend to be weak so that he grows arrogant. The good tactician plays with his enemy like a cat plays with a mouse. Feign weakness and immobility, and then pounce on him.”

The seven masters each marked small notes into their scrolls. Rin bounced slightly on her heels, waiting for them to continue.

“Good. No further questions.” Irjah nodded and gestured at his colleagues. “Master Yim?”

Yim pushed his chair back and rose slowly. He consulted his scroll for a moment, and then gazed at Rin over the top of his spectacles. “Why did we win the Second Poppy War?”

Rin sucked in a breath. She had not prepared for this question. It was so basic she’d thought she didn’t need to. Yim had asked it on the first day of class, and the answer was a logical fallacy. There was no “why,” because Nikan hadn’t won the Second Poppy War. The Republic of Hesperia had, and Nikan had simply ridden the foreigners’ coattails to a victory treaty.

She considered answering the question directly, but then thought she might try a more original response. She had only one shot at an answer. She wanted to impress the masters.

“Because we gave up Speer,” she said.

Irjah jerked his head up from his scroll.

Yim raised an eyebrow. “Do you mean because we lost Speer?”

“No. I mean it was a strategic decision to sacrifice the island so that the Hesperian parliament might decide to intervene. I think the command in Sinegard knew the attack was going to happen and didn’t warn the Speerlies.”

“I was at Speer,” Jun interrupted. “This is amusing historiography at best, slander at worst.”

“No, you weren’t,” Rin said before she could stop herself.

Jun looked amazed. “Excuse me?”

All seven masters were watching her intently now. Rin remembered too late that Irjah had disliked this theory. And that Jun hated her.

But it was too late to stop. She weighed the costs in her head. The masters rewarded bravery and creativity. If she backed off, it would be a sign of uncertainty. She had begun digging this hole for herself. She might as well finish.

She took a deep breath. “You can’t have been at Speer. I read the reports. None of the regular Militia were there the night the island was attacked. The first troops didn’t arrive until sunrise, after the Federation had left. After the Speerlies had all been killed.”

Jun’s face darkened to the color of an overripe plum. “You dare accuse—”