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Rin could see Kitay’s expression morphing from indignant to curious. He understood Daji’s logic—angry as he was, he was too smart to refuse the truth when he saw it. And he’d realized just as she had that Daji, unfortunately, had a point.
The question was what to do about it.
Rin knew her answer. She saw Daji watching her expectantly, waiting for her to voice her conclusion.
“We need more shamans,” she said.
“Correct, dear. You need an army of them.”
This statement was so absurd that for a moment Rin and Kitay could only gape at her. But at the same time Kitay was coming up with objections—and Rin knew he would only have objections, she could already tell from his expression—Rin was trying to imagine a world where this might succeed.
“That’s what Altan wanted,” Rin murmured. “Altan always wanted to release the Chuluu Korikh, he wanted an army of madmen—”
“Altan was an idiot,” Daji said dismissively. “You can’t bring back someone who’s gone to the stone mountain. Their minds are shattered.”
“Then how—”
“Come on, Runin. This is easy. You simply train new ones.”
“But we don’t have the time,” Rin said lamely, because this, of all the possible objections, seemed the easiest to explain.
Daji shrugged. “Then how much time do you need?”
“This conversation isn’t happening,” Kitay said haplessly to the wall. “This isn’t really happening.”
“It took me years to recognize that the Pantheon existed,” Rin said. “And we barely have weeks, we can’t—”
“It would have taken you weeks if Jiang hadn’t been so determined to drive the Phoenix from your mind,” Daji said. “And half of your problem was eroding your preconceived notions of the world. Your mind didn’t allow the possibility of shamanism. Those assumptions are broken now. The Nikara realize that this is a world where gods walk in men. They’ve seen you burn. They’re already true believers.” Daji reached out with a thin, pale finger and tapped Rin on the forehead. “And all you need to do is give them access.”
“You want us to raise an army of people just like me.” Rin knew she sounded idiotic, repeating a point that had been made clear over and over again, but she had to say it out loud for it to ring true.
She understood Kitay’s incredulity. This solution was horrific. This was so inhumane, so atrociously irresponsible that in all the months she’d been on the run from the Hesperians, she had never once seriously considered it. It had crossed her mind, certainly, but she’d always dismissed it within seconds, because—
Because what?
Because it was dangerous? Every option on the table was dangerous. They’d opened the floodgates now; the entire country was at open war between three factions, one of which ruled the skies and possessed the power to reduce the terrain to ash in seconds, and if Rin didn’t correct their power asymmetry somehow, soon, then she might as well deliver herself to Nezha in a coffin.
Because this was monstrous? But they were at the stage of war where every choice would be monstrous, and the only question now was which choice kept them alive.
“This is so simple, children,” Daji said. “Bring religion back to this country. Show the Hesperians the truth about the gods.”
She wasn’t talking to Kitay anymore. Kitay might as well have not been in the room; neither of them had acknowledged a single one of his objections. Daji spoke directly to Rin, one shaman to another.
“Do you know what your problem is?” Daji asked. “You’ve been fighting this entire war on the defensive. You’re still thinking like someone on the run. But it’s time you started thinking like a ruler.”
“You’re not seriously considering this,” Kitay said.
Daji was gone, banished to a corner room of the complex with a coterie of guards. This precaution was largely a bluff—Rin had no doubt Daji could take down an entire squadron if she wanted to—but the guards were equipped with signal horns. If anything happened, at least they could raise an alarm.
Rin remained in the office with Kitay. Her head felt dizzy, swimming with possibilities she’d never even considered. Several minutes passed in silence. Kitay had sunk into some kind of furious, speechless daze; Rin watched him warily, afraid he might explode.
“You’re not even thinking about it?” she asked.
“You’re joking,” he said.
“Daji might be right. It would balance things out—”
“Are you shitting me? Seriously, Rin? She’s manipulating you, that’s what she does, and you’re just eating shit straight out of her hand.”
Rin supposed that was possible. Daji could be trying to orchestrate her ruin, and this would be the most sadistic way to do it. But she’d seen the look on Daji’s face when she spoke about the Hesperians. She’d seen a glimpse of a girl not so much older than she was, a girl with more power than she knew what to do with, a girl who had just won her country back and was terrified it might be ripped away again.
“The stakes have changed,” Rin said. “She’s not the Empress anymore. She needs us just as much as we need her.”
Kitay folded his arms over his chest. “I think you’re entranced.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I mean that the Vipress has some weird effect on you—no, Rin, don’t deny it, you know it’s true. You don’t behave rationally around her, you never do. You always overreact, do the opposite of what’s prudent—”
“What? No, I don’t—”
“What about at Lusan? The Red Cliffs? Twice now you’ve had the opportunity to kill her and you haven’t. Why, Rin?”
“I would have! But she overpowered me—”
“Did she? Or did you let her?” Kitay’s voice had gone furiously, dangerously quiet. Rin hated this; she would have preferred that he scream. “The Vipress makes you do shit that makes no sense, and I don’t know if it’s because she’s still hypnotizing you, or if it’s something else, but you’ve got to get your mind straight. You’re thinking exactly what Daji wants you to think. She’s seduced you, and I know you’re not too stupid to realize that.”
Rin blinked. Was he right? Had Daji left some taint of poison on her mind? Was she hypnotizing Rin through the Seal?
She stood silent for a moment, trying to think through this calmly. Objectively. Yes—if she was being honest with herself, Daji did have a strange, outsize effect on her psyche. When she was around the Vipress she found it hard to breathe. Her limbs shook, her flames seared, and she trembled from the desire to choke her, to kill her, or—
Or to be her.
That was it. Rin wanted what Daji had. She wanted her easy confidence, her calm authority. She wanted her power.
“You can’t deny Daji’s right about one thing,” she said. “The southern front is a distraction. Our biggest problem now is how we’re going to deal with Nezha.”
Kitay sighed. “By creating an army of people like you?”
“Is that so wrong?” Rin was finding it harder and harder to come up with a good objection. Daji had presented the idea like a glittering gem and now she couldn’t stop turning it over and over in her mind, ruminating on the possibilities.
