Because the answer could not be rational. It was not founded in military strategy. It was not because of a shortage of food rations, or because of the risk of insurgency or backlash. It was, simply, what happened when one race decided that the other was insignificant.
The Federation had massacred Golyn Niis for the simple reason that they did not think of the Nikara as human. And if your opponent was not human, if your opponent was a cockroach, what did it matter how many of them you killed? What was the difference between crushing an ant and setting an anthill on fire? Why shouldn’t you pull wings off insects for your own enjoyment? The bug might feel pain, but what did that matter to you?
If you were the victim, what could you say to make your tormentor recognize you as human? How did you get your enemy to recognize you at all?
And why should an oppressor care?
Warfare was about absolutes. Us or them. Victory or defeat. There was no middle way. There was no mercy. No surrender.
This was the same logic, Rin realized, that had justified the destruction of Speer. To the Federation, to wipe out an entire race overnight was not an atrocity at all. Only a necessity.
“You’re insane.”
Rin’s head jerked up. She had sunk into another exhausted daze. She blinked twice and squinted out into the darkness until the source of the voice shifted from amorphous shadows to two recognizable forms.
Altan and Chaghan stood underneath the gate, Chaghan with his arms tightly crossed, Altan slouched against the wall. Heart hammering, Rin ducked under the low wall so they wouldn’t see her if they looked up.
“What if it wasn’t just us?” Altan asked in a low, eager voice. Rin was stunned; Altan sounded alert, alive, like he hadn’t been in days. “What if there were more of us?”
“Not this again,” said Chaghan.
“What if there were thousands of the Cike, soldiers as powerful as you and me, soldiers who could call the gods?”
“Altan . . .”
“What if I could raise an entire army of shamans?”
Rin’s eyes widened. An army?
Chaghan made a choking noise that might have been a laugh. “How do you propose to do that?”
“You know precisely how,” said Altan. “You know why I sent you to the mountain.”
“You said you only wanted the Gatekeeper.” Chaghan’s voice grew agitated. “You didn’t say you wanted to release every madman in there.”
“They’re not madmen—”
“They are not men at all! By now they are demigods! They are like bolts of lightning, like hurricanes of spiritual power. If I’d known what you were planning, I wouldn’t have—”
“Bullshit, Chaghan. You knew exactly what I was planning.”
“We were supposed to release the Gatekeeper together.” Chaghan sounded wounded.
“And we will. Just as we’ll release everyone else. Feylen. Huleinin. All of them.”
“Feylen? After what he tried to do? You don’t know what you’re saying. You are speaking of atrocities.”
“Atrocities?” Altan asked coolly. “You’ve seen the bodies here, and you accuse me of atrocities?”
Chaghan’s voice rose steadily in pitch. “What Mugen has done is human cruelty. But humans alone are only capable of so much destruction. The beings locked inside the Chuluu Korikh are capable of ruin on a different scale altogether.”
Altan barked out a laugh. “Do you have eyes? Do you see what they’ve done to Golyn Niis? A ruler should do anything necessary to protect their people. I will not be Tearza, Chaghan. I will not let them kill us off like dogs.”
Rin heard a scuffling noise. Feet shuffling against dry leaves. Limbs brushing against limbs. Were they fighting? Hardly daring to breathe, Rin peeked out from over the wall.
Chaghan grasped Altan by the collar with both hands, pulling him down so that they were face-to-face. Altan was half a foot taller than Chaghan, could have snapped him in half with ease, and yet he did not lift a hand in defense.
Rin stared at them in disbelief. Nobody touched Altan like that.
“This isn’t Speer again,” Chaghan hissed. His face was so close to Altan’s that their noses almost touched. “Even Tearza wouldn’t unleash her god to save one island. But you are sentencing thousands of people to death.”
“I’m trying to win this war—”
“What for? Look around, Trengsin! No one is going to pat you on the back and tell you good job. There’s no one left. This country is going to shit, and no one cares—”
“The Empress cares,” said Altan. “I sent a falcon, she approved my plan—”
“Who cares what your Empress says?” Chaghan screamed. His hands shook wildly. “Fuck your Empress! Your Empress fled!”
“She’s one of us,” Altan said. “You know she is. If we have her, and we have the Gatekeeper, then we can lead this army—”
“No one can lead that army.” Chaghan let go of Altan’s collar. “Those people in the mountain are not like you. They’re not like Suni. You can’t control them, and you’re not going to try. I won’t let you.”
Chaghan raised his hands to push Altan again, but Altan grabbed them this time, seized his wrists and lowered them easily. He did not let them go. “Do you really think you can stop me?”
“This isn’t you,” Chaghan said. “This is about Speer. This is about your revenge. That’s all you Speerlies do, you hate and burn and destroy without consequence. Tearza was the only one of you with any foresight. Maybe the Federation was right about you, maybe it was best they burned down your island—”
“How dare you,” Altan said, his voice so quiet Rin pressed herself against the wall as if she could somehow get closer and make sure she was hearing right. Altan’s fingers tightened around Chaghan’s wrists. “You’ve crossed the line.”
“I’m your Seer,” Chaghan said. “I give you counsel, whether you want to hear it or not.”
“The Seer does not command,” Altan said. “The Seer does not disobey. I have no place for a disloyal lieutenant. If you won’t help me, then I’ll send you away. Go north. Go to the dam. Take your sister and do as we planned.”
“Altan, listen to reason,” Chaghan pleaded. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Do as I command,” Altan said curtly. “Go, or leave the Cike.”
Rin sank back behind the wall, heart hammering.
She abandoned her post as soon as she heard Altan’s footsteps fading into the distance. Once she could no longer see his form from the gate, she darted down the steps and raced out onto the open road. She caught Chaghan and Qara as they were saddling a recovered gelding.
“Let’s go,” Chaghan told his sister when he saw Rin approaching, but Rin grabbed the reins before Qara could prod the horse forward.
“Where are you going?” she demanded.
“Away,” Chaghan said tersely. “Please let go.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“We have orders to leave.”
“I overheard you with Altan.”
Qara muttered something in her own language.
Chaghan scowled. “Have you ever been able to mind your own business?”
Rin tightened her grip on the reins. “What army is he talking about? Why won’t you help him?”
Chaghan’s eyes narrowed. “You have no idea what you’re getting into.”
“So tell me. Who is Feylen?” Rin continued loudly. “Who is Huleinin? What did he mean, he’ll release the Gatekeeper?”
“Altan is going to burn down Nikan. I will not be responsible.”
“Burn down Nikan?” Rin repeated. “How—”
“Your commander has gone mad,” Chaghan said bluntly. “That is as much as you need to know. And you know the worst part? I think he’s meant to do this all along. I’ve been blind. This is what he’s wanted since the Federation marched on Sinegard.”
“And you’re just going to let him?”
Chaghan recoiled violently, as if he’d been slapped. Rin had a fear that he might yank on the reins and ride away, but Chaghan merely sat there, mouth slightly open.
She had never seen Chaghan speechless before. It scared her.
She wouldn’t have expected Chaghan to shrink from cruelty. Chaghan, alone among the Cike, had never displayed an ounce of fear about his power, about losing control. Chaghan reveled in his abilities. He relished them.