“Ow-ow!”
By his side, Jun dragged a scrawny boy by the ear, jerking him along with brutal tugs. The boy wore an eyepatch over his left eye, and his right eye watered in pain as he tottered along behind Jun.
Altan stopped short. “Tiger’s tits.”
“Ramsa,” Qara swore under her breath. Rin couldn’t tell if it was a name or a curse in Qara’s language.
“You.” Jun stopped in front of Qara. “Where is your commander?”
Altan stepped forward. “That’d be me.”
“Trengsin?” Jun regarded Altan with open disbelief. “You’re joking. Where’s Tyr?”
A spasm of irritation flickered across Altan’s face. “Tyr is dead.”
“What?”
Altan crossed his arms. “No one bothered to tell you?”
Jun ignored the jibe. “He’s dead? How?”
“Occupational hazard,” Altan said, which Rin suspected meant that he didn’t have a clue.
“So they put the Cike in the hands of a child,” Jun muttered. “Incredible.”
Altan looked between Jun and the boy, who was still bent over by Jun’s side, whimpering in pain. “What’s this about?”
“My men caught him elbows-deep in their munitions stores,” Jun said. “Third time this week.”
“I thought it was our munitions wagon!” the boy protested.
“You don’t have a munitions wagon,” Jun snapped. “We established that the first two times.”
Qara sighed and rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand.
“I wouldn’t have to steal if they’d just share,” the boy said plaintively, appealing to Altan. His voice was thin and reedy, and his good eye was huge in his thin face. “I can’t do my job if I don’t have fire powder.”
“If your men are lacking equipment, you might have thought to bring it from the Night Castle.”
“We used up all ours at the embassy,” the boy grumbled. “Remember?”
Jun jerked the boy’s ear downward, and the boy howled in pain.
Altan reached behind his back for his trident. “Let go, Jun.”
Jun glanced at the trident, and the side of his mouth quirked up. “Are you threatening me?”
Altan did not extend his weapon—to point his blade at a commander of another division would be the highest treason—but he didn’t take his hand off the shaft. Rin thought she saw fire flicker momentarily across his fingertips. “I’m making a request.”
Jun took one step back, but did not let go of the boy. “Your men do not have access to Fifth Division supplies.”
“And disciplining him is my prerogative, not yours,” said Altan. “Unhand him. Now, Jun.”
Jun made a disgusted noise and let go of the boy, who skirted away quickly and scampered over to Altan’s side, rubbing the side of his head with a rueful expression.
“Last time they hung me up by my ankles in the town square,” the boy complained. He sounded like a child tattling on a classmate to a teacher.
Altan looked outraged.
“Would you treat the First or Eighth like this?” he demanded.
“The First and Eighth have better sense than to root around in the Fifth’s equipment,” Jun snapped. “Your men have been causing nothing but trouble since they got here.”
“We’ve been doing our damn job!” the boy burst out. “You’re the ones hiding behind walls like bloody cowards.”
“Quiet, Ramsa,” Altan snapped.
Jun barked out a short, derisive laugh. “You are a squad of ten. Do not overestimate your value to this Militia.”
“Be that as it may, we serve the Empress just as you do,” Altan said. “We left the Night Castle to be your reinforcements. So you’ll treat my men with respect, or the Empress will hear of it.”
“Of course. You’re the Empress’s special brats,” Jun drawled. “Reinforcements. What a joke.”
He shot a last disdainful look at Altan and stalked off. He pretended not to see Rin.
“So that’s been the last week,” Qara said with a sigh.
“I thought you said everything was fine,” Altan said.
“I exaggerated.”
Ramsa peered up at his commander. “Hi, Trengsin,” he said cheerfully. “Glad you’re back.”
Altan pressed his hands against his face and then tilted his head up, inhaling deeply. His arms dropped. He sighed. “Where’s my office?”
“Down that alley to the left,” said Ramsa. “Cleared out the old customs office. You’ll like it. We brought your maps.”
“Thanks,” Altan said. “Where are the Warlords stationed?”
“The old government complex around the corner. They’ve been holding councils on the regular. They don’t really invite us, on account of, well. You know.” Ramsa trailed off, suddenly looking very guilty.
Altan shot Qara a questioning look.
“Ramsa blew up half the foreign quarter at the docks,” she reported. “Didn’t give the Warlords advance warning.”
“I blew up one building.”
“It was a big building,” Qara said flatly. “The Fifth still had two men inside.”
“Well, did they survive?” Altan asked.
Qara stared at him in disbelief. “Ramsa detonated a building on them.”
“I take it you lot have done nothing useful while I’ve been gone, then,” Altan said.
“We set up fortifications!” Ramsa said.
“Of the defense line?” Altan asked hopefully.
“No, just around your office. And our barracks. Warlords won’t let us near the defense line anymore.”
Altan looked deeply aggravated. “I need to go get that squared up. The government complex is down that way?”
“Yeah.”
“Fine.” Altan cast a distracted look at Rin. “Qara, she’ll need equipment. Get her geared up and moved in. Ramsa, come with me.”
“Are you Altan’s lieutenant?” Rin asked as Qara led her down another winding set of alleyways.
“Not me. My brother,” Qara said. She quickened her pace, ducked under a round gate embedded in a wall, and waited for Rin to follow her through. “I’m filling in until he’s back. You’ll stay here with me.”
She pulled Rin down yet another stairwell that led to a damp underground room. It was a tiny chamber, barely the size of the Academy outhouse. A draft blew in from the cellar opening. Rin rubbed her arms and shivered.
“We get the women’s barracks all to ourselves,” Qara said. “Lucky us.”
Rin glanced about the room. The walls were packed dirt, not brick, which meant no insulation. A single mat had been unfurled in the corner, surrounded by a bundle of Qara’s things. Rin supposed she’d have to get her own blanket unless she wanted to sleep among the cockroaches. “There aren’t any women in the divisions?”
“We don’t share barracks with the divisions.” Qara fumbled in a bag near her mat, pulled out a bundle of clothing, and tossed it at Rin. “You should probably change out of that Academy uniform. I’ll take your old things. Enki wants old linens for bandages.”
Rin quickly wriggled out of her travel-worn Academy tunic, pulled on the uniform, then handed her old clothes to Qara. Her new uniform was a nondescript black tunic. Unlike the Militia uniforms, it bore no insignia of the Red Emperor over her left breast. The Cike uniforms were designed to have no identifying marks at all.
“Armband, too.” Qara’s hand was outstretched, expectant.
Rin touched her white armband, feeling self-conscious. She hadn’t taken it off since the battle, even though she was no longer officially Jiang’s apprentice. “Do I have to?” She’d seen plenty of academy armbands among the soldiers in Yenjen’s squadron, even though they looked well past academy age. Officers from Sinegard often wore those armbands for years after they graduated as a mark of pride.
Qara folded her arms. “This isn’t the Academy. Your apprentice affiliation doesn’t matter here.”
“I know that—” Rin began to say, but Qara cut her off.