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Rin searched the map, looking for any possible way out. “Then do we retreat?”
“It’s too late for that now,” Kitay said. “Jinzha’s right about one thing: we don’t have any other options. We don’t have supplies to last out the winter, and chances are if we escape back to Arlong, then we’ll lose all the progress we’ve made—”
“What, we can’t just hunker down in Ram Province for a few months? Have Arlong ship up some supplies?”
“And give Daji the entire winter to build a fleet? We’ve gotten this far because the Empire has never had a great navy. Daji has the men, but we have the ships. That’s the only reason we’re at parity. If Daji gets three months’ leeway, then this is all over.”
“Some Hesperian warships would be great right around now,” Rin muttered.
“And that’s the root of it all.” Kitay gave her a wry look. “Jinzha’s being an ass, but I think I understand him. He can’t afford to look weak, not with Tarcquet sitting there judging his every move. He’s got to be bold. Be the brilliant leader his father promised. And we’ll blaze forward right with him, because we simply have no other option.”
“How many of you can swim?” Jinzha asked.
Prisoners stood miserably in line on the slippery deck, heads bent as rain poured down on them in relentless sheets. Jinzha paced up and down the deck, and the prisoners flinched every time he stopped in front of them. “Show of hands. Who can swim?”
The prisoners glanced nervously at one another, no doubt wondering which response would keep them alive. No hands went up.
“Let me put it this way.” Jinzha crossed his arms. “We don’t have the rations to feed everyone. No matter what, some of you are going to end up at the bottom of the Murui. It’s only a question of whether you want to starve to death. So raise your hand if you’ll be useful.”
Every hand shot up.
Jinzha turned to Admiral Molkoi. “Throw them all overboard.”
The men started screaming in protest. Rin thought for a second that Molkoi might actually comply, and that they would have to watch the prisoners clawing over each other in the water in a desperate bid to survive, but then she realized that Jinzha didn’t really intend to execute them.
He was watching to see who wouldn’t resist.
After a few moments Jinzha pulled fifteen men out of the line and dismissed the rest to the brig. Then he held up a water mine wrapped in cow intestine and passed it through the line so the men could take a better look at the fuse.
“The Militia’s been planting these in the water. You will swim through the water and disable them. You will be tethered to the ship with ropes, and you will be given sharp rocks to do the job. If you find an explosive, cut the intestine and ensure that water floods the tube. Try to escape, and my archers will shoot you in the water. Leave any mines intact, and you will die with us. It’s in your interest to be thorough.”
He tossed several lines of rope at the men. “Go on, then.”
Nobody moved.
“Admiral Molkoi!” Jinzha shouted.
Molkoi signaled to his men. A line of guards strode forward, blades out.
“Do not test my patience,” Jinzha said.
The men scrambled hastily for the ropes.
The storms only intensified in the following week, but Jinzha forced the fleet forward to Boyang at an impossible pace. The soldiers were exhausted at the paddle wheels trying to meet his demands. Several prisoners dropped dead after being forced to paddle consecutive shifts without a night’s sleep, and Jinzha had their bodies tossed unceremoniously overboard.
“He’s going to tire his army out before we even get there,” Kitay grumbled to Rin. “Bet you wish we’d brought those Federation troops along now, don’t you?”
The army was both weary and hungry. Their rations had been dwindling. They now received dried fish twice a day instead of three times, and rice only once in the evenings. Most of the extra provisions they’d obtained in Xiashang had been lost in the explosions. Morale drooped by the day.
The soldiers became even more disheartened when scouts returned with details of the lake defense. The Imperial Navy was indeed stationed at Boyang, as all of them had feared, and it was far better equipped than Jinzha had anticipated.
The navy rivaled the size of the fleet that had sailed out from Arlong. The one consolation was that it was nowhere near the technological level of Jinzha’s armada. The Empress had hastily constructed it in the months since Lusan, and the lack of preparation time showed—the Imperial Fleet was a messy amalgamation of badly constructed new ships, some with unfinished decks, and conscripted old merchant boats with no uniformity of build. At least three were leisure barges without firing capacity.
But they had more ships, and they had more men.
“Ship quality would have mattered if they were out over the ocean,” Kitay told Rin. “But the lake will turn this battle into a crucible. We’ll all be crammed in together. They just need to get their men to board our ships, and it’ll be over. Boyang’s going to turn red with blood.”
Rin knew one way the Republic could easily win. They wouldn’t even have to fire a shot. But Nezha refused to speak to her. She only ever saw him when he came aboard the Kingfisher for meetings in his brother’s office. Each time they crossed paths he hastily looked away; if she called his name, he only shook his head. Otherwise, they might have been complete strangers.
“Do we expect anything to come of this?” Rin asked.
“Not really,” Kitay said. He held his crossbow ready against his chest. “It’s just a formality. You know how aristocrats are.”
Rin’s teeth chattered as the Imperial flagship drifted closer to the Kingfisher. “We shouldn’t have even come.”
“It’s Jinzha. Always worried about his honor.”
“Yes, well, he might try worrying more about his life.”
Against the counsel of his admirals, Jinzha had demanded a last-minute negotiation with the flagship of the Imperial Navy. Gentlemen’s etiquette, he called it. He had to at least give the Wolf Meat General a chance to surrender. But the negotiation would not even be a charade; it was only a risk, and a stupid one.
Chang En had refused a private meeting. The most he would acquiesce to was a temporary cease-fire and a confrontation held over the open water, and that meant their ships were forced to draw dangerously close together in the final moments before the firing began.
“Hello, little dragon!” Chang En’s voice rang over the still, cold air. For once, the waters were calm and quiet. Mist drifted from the surface of Boyang Lake, shrouding the assembled fleets in a cloudy fog.
“You’ve done well for yourself, Master,” Jinzha called. “Admiral of the Imperial Navy, now?”
Chang En spread his arms. “I take what I want when I see it.”
Jinzha lifted his chin. “You’ll want to take this surrender, then. You can retain your position in my father’s employ.”
“Oh, fuck off.” Chang En’s jackal laughter rang high and cruel across the lake.
Jinzha raised his voice. “There’s nothing Su Daji can do for you. Whatever she’s promised you, we’ll double it. My father can make you a general—”
