Page 53 of Heart of Night and Fire

“If you can’t keep a sense of humor, then you risk losing yourself to despair.”

Zarya gave him a side-eyed glance and said in a dry tone, “Oh, sure. ‘Funny’ is the first thing I’d write on a list of qualities describing Lieutenant Yasen Varghese.”

His answer was a snort, and she couldn’t help but mimic his smile. He didn’t do it often enough.

They rode through the city, exiting through the northern gate. Since the kala-hamsa attack, travel outside the walls before nightfall was still permitted out of necessity for those residing in the northern forests and smaller towns throughout the kingdom. The army had already been discussing if they’d eventually need to evacuate the entire region into Dharati. Of course, this presented the challenge of where all those extra people were to go. The city was already overflowing with swamp refugees who had been forced to flee their homes in the south.

After riding for a short while, Yasen and Zarya arrived at a cozy little house tucked into a copse of bushes. Warm light shone through the windows and a gentle curl of smoke reached into the sky from the squat chimney.

They hopped down from their mounts, tying them to a nearby tree.

A short man wearing dark blue robes stood before a large garden adjacent to the cottage. He didn’t seem to notice their approach as he dug into a small pouch hanging from his belt, pulling out a handful of yellow powder. He proceeded to scatter it in a neat line, forming a square around a patch of withered roots. He then stared intently at the ground. A moment later, the lines of yellow powder ignited, flames erupting in a perfect square. Bright green shoots burst open, revealing a bouquet of glossy orange, red, and yellow flowers.

“Oh!” Zarya said, causing the man to look over. He stared, speechless, for a moment, his skin turning ashen as his eyes went wide.

“Aishayadiva,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “In all the living world, I never thought—” His hand went to his throat, gazing at her with equal parts terror and amazement.

Zarya and Yasen exchanged an uncertain glance.

“Professor Dhawan. Please meet Zarya,” Yasen said. “She came to Dharati for the first time a few weeks ago. Before that, she lived on the southern shore with Row.”

She gave Yasen a sharp look, wondering why he was telling him this, but Yasen shrugged. Professor Dhawan started at the sound of Yasen’s voice, his face regaining some of its color before he peered again at Zarya.

“With Row? That is most curious.”

Not in the mood for another discussion about Row, Zarya gestured to the garden. “What did you do there? With the powder?”

Dhawan smiled and gave a jiggle to the bag hanging from his belt. “Aga phula. Native to Bhaavana, but I’ve always had a soft spot for them.”

He plucked one of the blooms, tipped it upside down, and gave it a shake, releasing a puff of yellow dust. “They only bloom like this in the presence of fire, and their pollen is particularly useful for creating controlled lines of flame. It helps farmers clear away dead brush for their crops.”

Still watching Zarya with a mix of wonder and trepidation, he shuffled towards the cottage. “I was about to have supper, and since you’ve already interrupted me, you might as well come in.”

He swung open the low wooden door and ducked inside. Yasen had to bend practically in half to enter, but the cottage’s ceiling was tall enough to accommodate him, though just barely.

“Sit,” Dhawan said, pointing to the rough wooden table at the center of the room. His tone brooked no arguments, so both Yasen and Zarya slid into a seat without comment.

In the corner was a small, unmade bed. In another was a worktable covered in an assortment of books, vials, and beakers filled with colored liquids, along with a collection of measuring scales.

“Have you eaten?” Dhawan asked, heading for a small kitchen in the opposite corner. Without waiting for an answer, he began spooning a thick yellow stew with lentils, peas, and potatoes into large wooden bowls. He plunked them down in front of Zarya and Yasen.

“Eat.” He picked up his spoon and took a slurpy gulp. Yasen eyed his bowl but didn’t move to pick up his spoon. Not wanting to be rude, Zarya took a small bite and made a sound of appreciation. Dhawan looked up from his bowl and narrowed his eyes with suspicion.

“What brought you to Daragaab, Professor?” Zarya asked, trying to make conversation since Yasen was doing his very best impression of a rock. “Yasen said you’re from Gi’ana?”

“After many years of serving the royal family, I came here to retire,” Dhawan answered. “I like the solitude of the forests. However, I’ve also been aiding the Chiranjivi in suppressing the blight, so it seems I was never truly meant for peace.”

“Are you Aazheri?”

Dhawan barked out a laugh, settling back in his seat.

“Well, I’m certainly not a rakshasa with this face and this body.” He patted his rounded belly and gestured to Yasen. Zarya choked on a laugh, and Yasen couldn’t seem to decide if he should be offended.

“What’s so funny?” Dhawan asked, but his eyes gleamed with mischief. “Yes, I am Aazheri.” Dhawan took another loud gulp of his stew before licking his lips, humming in satisfaction.

“Eat,” he said again, eyeing her. Zarya swallowed another tentative bite while Yasen continued to ignore his bowl.

“Do you know Row?” she asked.