The Dragon Republic. R.F. Kuang

works. If you want to get things done, you need brute force. I need you, and I’m the only one who can pay you, which means you need me. Complain all you want. You’re not going anywhere.”

      “But you’re not paying me.” Rin couldn’t help it. “So fuck you.”

      Eleven arrowheads pointed to her forehead before she could move.

      “Stand down,” Sarana hissed.

      “Don’t be so dramatic.” Moag examined her lacquered nails. “I’m trying to help you, you know. You’re young. You’ve got a whole life ahead of you. Why waste it on revenge?”

      “I need to get to the capital,” Rin insisted stubbornly. “And if you won’t give me supplies, then I’ll go elsewhere.”

      Moag sighed theatrically, pressed her fingers against her temples, and then folded her arms on the table. “I propose a compromise. One more job, and then I’ll give you everything you want. Will that work?”

      “What, I’m supposed to trust you now?”

      “What choice do you have?”

      Rin chewed on that. “What kind of job?”

      “How do you feel about naval battles?”

      “Hate them.” Rin didn’t like being over open water. She’d only agreed to jobs on land so far, and Moag knew that. Around the ocean, she was too easily incapacitated.

      Fire and water didn’t mix.

      “I’m sure a healthy reward would change your mind.” Moag rummaged in her desk, pulled out a charcoal rendering of a ship and slid it across the table. “This is the Heron. Standard opium skimmer. Red sails, Ankhiluuni flag, unless the captain’s changed it. He’s been coming up short in the books for months.”

      Rin stared at her. “You want me to kill someone based on accounting errors?”

      “He’s keeping more than his fair share of his profits. He’s been very clever about it, too. Got an accountant to fudge the numbers so that it took me weeks to detect. But we keep triple copies of everything. The numbers don’t lie. I want you to sink his ship.”

      Rin considered the rendering. She recognized the ship build. Moag had at least a dozen skimmers just like it sitting in Ankhiluun’s harbor. “Is he still in the city?”

      “No. But he’s scheduled to return to port in a few days. He thinks I don’t know what he’s done.”

      “Then why don’t you get rid of him yourself?”

      “Under regular circumstances I would,” said Moag. “But then I’d have to give him the pirate’s justice.”

      “Since when does Ankhiluun care about justice?”

      “The fact that we’re independent from the Empire doesn’t make us an anarchy, dear. We’d hold a trial. It’s standard procedure with embezzlement cases. But I don’t want to give him a fair trial. He’s well-liked, he has too many friends in this city, and punishment by my hand would certainly provoke retaliation. I’m not in the mood for politics. I want him blown out of the water.”

      “No prisoners?”

      Moag grinned. “Not a high priority.”

      “Then I’ll need to borrow a skimmer.”

      Moag’s smile widened. “Do this for me and you can keep the skimmer.”

      This wasn’t optimal. Rin needed a ship with Militia colors, not a smuggling vessel, and Moag might still withhold the weapons and money. No—she had to take it for granted Moag would cheat her, some way or another.

      But she had no leverage. Moag had the ships, she had the soldiers, so she could dictate the terms. All Rin had was the ability to kill people, and no one better to sell it to.

      She had no better options. She was strategically backed into a corner, and she couldn’t think her way out.

      But she knew someone who could.

      “There’s something else I want,” she said. “Kitay’s address.”

      “Kitay?” Moag narrowed her eyes. Rin could watch the thoughts spinning in her head, trying to determine if it was a liability, if it was worth the charity.

      “We’re friends,” Rin said as smoothly as she could. “We were classmates. I care about him. That’s all it is.”

      “And you’re only asking about him now?”

      “We’re not going to flee the city, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

      “Oh, you’d never manage that.” Moag gave her a pitying look. “But he asked me not to tell you where to find him.”

      Rin supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised. It still stung.

      “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “I still want the address.”

      “I gave him my word I’d keep it a secret.”

      “Your word means nothing, you old hag.” Rin couldn’t suppress her impatience. “Right now you’re just dithering for the fun of it.”

      Moag laughed. “Fair enough. He’s in the old foreign district. A safe house at the very end of the walkway. You’ll see Red Junk Fleet symbols on the doorposts. I’ve posted a guard there, but I’ll tell them to stand down if they see you. Shall I let him know you’re coming?”

      “Please don’t,” Rin said. “I’ll surprise him.”

      The old foreign district was still and silent, a rare oasis of calm in the never-ending cacophony that comprised Ankhiluun. Half these houses were abandoned—no one had lived here since the Hesperians left, and the remaining buildings were used only to store inventory. The bright lights that littered the rest of Ankhiluun were absent. This place lay uncomfortably far from the open central square, where Moag’s guards had easy access.

      Rin didn’t like that.

      But Kitay had to be safe. Tactically, it would be a terrible idea to let him get hurt. He was a remarkable reserve of knowledge. He read everything and forgot nothing. He was best kept alive as an asset, and Moag had surely realized it since she’d put him under house arrest.

      The lone house at the end of the road floated a little ways off from the rest of the bobbing street, tethered only by two long chains and a hazardous floating walkway made of badly spaced planks.

      Rin stepped gingerly over the planks, then rapped on the wooden door. No response.

      She tried the handle. It didn’t even have a lock—she couldn’t see a keyhole. They’d made it impossible for Kitay to keep visitors out.

      She pushed the door open.

      The first thing she noticed was the mess—a sprawl of yellowing books, maps, and ledgers that littered every visible surface. She blinked around in the dim lamplight until she finally saw Kitay sitting in the corner with a thick tome over his lap, nearly buried under stacks of leather-bound books.

      “I’ve already eaten,” he said without looking up. “Come back in the morning.”

      She cleared her throat. “Kitay.”

      He looked up. His eyes widened.

      “Hello,” she said.

      Slowly he set his books to the side.

      “Can I come in?” she asked.

      Kitay stared at her for a long moment before waving her inside. “Fine.”

      She shut the door behind her. He made no move to get up, so she picked her way through the papers toward him, taking care not to step on any pages. Kitay had always hated when anyone disturbed his carefully arranged messes. During exam season at Sinegard, he’d thrown temper tantrums