But that’s what Emperors are for, Eight Antidote. Terrible decisions. I’d rather—oh, I’ll tell you the truth, my little spy. You’re going to have to do this yourself, eventually, so the truth is better. I’d rather have a pyrrhic victory—display just what Teixcalaan is capable of, smash a living beautiful planet full of people—and yes, they probably are people, but not the kind of people we can understand—smash it to dust and deathrain. I’d rather one act of horror than an endless war of attrition, losing our people and theirs, on and on and on. Like a suppurating wound at the edge of the
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