The Dragon Republic. R.F. Kuang

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ girl blinked. “Who?”

      Rin heard Ramsa turn his snicker into a cough.

      “Fang Runin,” she repeated. “I don’t need an appointment.”

      “Oh, love, that’s not how it works here.” The girl tapped slim fingers against her impossibly narrow waist. “You’ve got to make an appointment, and we’re booked up days in advance.” She peered over Rin’s shoulder at Baji, Suni, and Ramsa. “Also, it’s extra for groups larger than four. The girls don’t like it when you share.”

      Rin reached for her blade. “Look here, you little shit—”

      “Back up.” Suddenly the girl was holding a fistful of needles she must have concealed in her sleeve. Their tips were purple with poison. “No one touches a Lily.”

      Rin fought the sudden urge to slap the girl across her face. “If you don’t move aside this second, I’ll shove this blade so far up your—”

      “Well, this is a surprise.” The silk sheets over the main doors rustled, and a voluptuous figure emerged on deck. Rin stifled a groan.

      It was Sarana, a Black Lily of the highest distinction and Moag’s personal favorite. She’d been Moag’s go-between with the Cike since they landed at Ankhiluun three months ago. She possessed an unbearably sharp tongue, an obsession with sexual innuendo, and—according to Baji—the most perfect breasts south of the Murui.

      Rin hated her.

      “Fancy seeing you here.” Sarana approached, cocking her head to the side. “We thought you weren’t interested in women.”

      She had a way of shimmying when she spoke, accentuating each word with a shake of her hips. Baji made a choking noise. Ramsa was staring unabashedly at Sarana’s chest.

      “I need to see Moag,” Rin said.

      “Moag’s busy,” Sarana replied.

      “I think Moag knows better than to keep me waiting.”

      Sarana raised her finely drawn eyebrows. “She also doesn’t like to be disrespected.”

      “Must I be blunt?” Rin snapped. “Unless you want this boat going up in flames, you go get your mistress and tell her I want an audience.”

      Sarana feigned a yawn. “Be nice to me, Speerly. Else I’ll tattle.”

      “I could sink your barge in minutes.”

      “And Moag would have you shot full of arrows before you could even get off the boat.” Sarana gave her a dismissive wave. “Get going, Speerly. We’ll send for you when Moag is ready.”

      Rin saw red.

      The fucking nerve.

      Sarana might have thought it an insult, but Rin was a Speerly. She’d single-handedly won the Third Poppy War. She’d sunk a fucking country. She hadn’t come this far just to banter with some stupid Lily whore.

      Her hands shot out and grabbed Sarana by the collar. Sarana moved for her hairpiece, which was no doubt poisoned, but Rin slammed her against the wall, wedged one elbow against her throat, and pinned her right wrist down with the other.

      She leaned forward to press her lips against Sarana’s ear. “Maybe you think you’re safe now. Maybe I’ll just turn and walk away. You’ll brag to the other bitches how you scared the Speerly off! Lucky you! Then one night, when you’ve turned off the lanterns and rolled up the gangplank, you’ll smell smoke in your quarters. You’ll run out onto the deck, but by then the flames will be burning so hot you can’t see two feet in front of you. You’ll know it’s me, but you’ll never be able to tell Moag, because a sheet of fire will burn all your pretty skin off, and the last thing you’ll see before you leap off the ship into boiling-hot water is my laughing face.” Rin dug her elbow deeper into Sarana’s pale throat. “Don’t fuck with me, Sarana.”

      Sarana patted frantically at Rin’s wrists.

      Rin tilted her head. “What was that?”

      Sarana’s voice was a strangled whisper. “Moag … might make an exception.”

      Rin let go. Sarana collapsed back against the wall, frantically fanning her face.

      The red haze ebbed from the edges of Rin’s vision. She closed a fist and opened it, let loose a long breath, and wiped her palm against her tunic. “That’s more like it.”

      “We’re here,” Sarana announced.

      Rin reached up to remove the blindfold from her face. Sarana had made her come alone—the others were more than happy to stay on the pleasure barge—and her naked vulnerability had kept her twitching and sweating during their entire journey through the canals.

      At first she saw nothing but darkness. Then her eyes adjusted to the dim lights, and she saw that the room was lit up with tiny, flickering fire lamps. She saw no windows, no glints of sunshine. She couldn’t tell whether they were in a ship or in a building; whether nighttime had fallen or if the room was simply sealed so well that no outside light could get in. The air indoors was much cooler than outside. She thought she could still feel the rocking sea beneath her legs, but only faintly, and she couldn’t tell if it was real or imagined.

      Wherever she was, the building was massive. A grounded warship? A warehouse?

      She saw blocky furniture with curved legs that surely had to be of foreign origin; they didn’t carve tables like that in the Empire. Along the walls hung portraits, though they couldn’t have been of Nikara men; the subjects were pale-skinned, angry-looking, and all wearing absurdly shaped white wigs. A massive table, large enough to seat twenty, occupied the center of the room.

      On the other side, flanked by a squadron of Lily archers, sat the Pirate Queen herself.

      “Runin.” Moag’s voice was a gravelly drawl, deep and oddly compelling. “Always a pleasure.”

      In the streets of Ankhiluun, they called Moag the Stone Widow. She was a tall, broad-shouldered woman, more handsome than pretty. They said she was a prostitute from the bay who’d married one of Ankhiluun’s many pirate captains. Then he died under circumstances that were never properly examined, and Moag rose steadily through the ranks of Ankhiluun’s pirate hierarchy and consolidated a fleet of unprecedented strength. She was the first to ever unite the pirate factions of Ankhiluun under one flag. Until her reign, the disparate bandits of Ankhiluun had been at war with one another in the same way the twelve provinces of Nikan had been at war since the death of the Red Emperor. In a way, she had managed to do what Daji never could. She’d convinced disparate factions of soldiers to serve a single cause—herself.

      “I don’t think you’ve ever been to my private office.” Moag gestured around the room. “Nice place, isn’t it? The Hesperians were unbearably annoying, but they knew how to decorate.”

      “What happened to the original owners?” Rin asked.

      “Depends. I assume the Hesperian Navy taught their sailors how to swim.” Moag pointed to the chair opposite her. “Sit.”

      “No, СКАЧАТЬ