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“It might not be theft,” Lek said. “You might voluntarily leave them behind. The first rule of smuggling is Don’t get caught with the goods. Your parents knew that. That’s probably why they stashed the fans with you in that hick abider town.”
Kyoshi’s temper flared. One, she found herself longing for Yokoya these days, much to her surprise. Not the people, but the harsh, wild landscape where the wooded mountains met the sea and salt air. The interior Earth Kingdom often felt like a brown monotone, a flat expanse that changed little from one landing site to the next. She decided she didn’t appreciate people looking down on the unique little part of it where she’d met Kelsang.
And two, she’d never gotten over the resentment she felt toward Lek, each moment her parents had spent with him instead of her. It didn’t matter if he was simply a gang member to them. They’d found him useful, decided he had a purpose. Her? Not so much.
She could have explained her feelings to him. Instead, she sliced at the flying pebbles with her fans, cracking them cleanly into hemispheres, and sent twice as many projectiles back at Lek. Can you do that, with or without a weapon?
He yelped and threw himself to the floor. The shot blast of stone zinged into the cave wall above him, showering him in dust. Playtime had gotten far too rough.
“I’m sorry!” Kyoshi cried out, covering her mouth in horror with the spread fan. She could have put out his eye, or worse.
He got up with a scowl on his face. But then he remembered something. His glower turned into a grin so smug it could have illuminated the rest of the cave.
“It’s fine,” he said, patting the dirt off his pants. “Though I’ll have to tell Rangi about your lapse in control.”
Whatever remorse Kyoshi felt vanished. “You snot-nosed little—”
He raised a finger patiently like an enlightened guru. “Bup-bup. That’s Sifu Snotnose to you.”
Kyoshi could firebend without her fans.
That one bad attempt after their escape from Chameleon Bay was a distant memory. Since then, some kind of blockage had cleared. The flame felt straightforward, a power that merely needed to be set free instead of prodded or manipulated like earth.
It made no sense to her how she had a critical weakness with her native element but could produce fire decently for a beginner. The reason could have been that Rangi was a great teacher, as might be expected from the scion of great teachers.
“No,” Rangi said. “It’s your emotional state.”
The little training area they’d built stood at the end of an isolated shepherd’s path leading away from a small town in a valley below. Rangi faced her on a long, narrow beam of earth that she’d ordered Kyoshi to raise from the ground. Balancing on it was hard enough, but then they’d started to run through firebending forms and light sparring. The linear exercise meant she’d need to concentrate on resisting and overcoming with positive jing instead of staying still or evading.
“Of all bending disciplines, fire is the most affected by inner turmoil,” Rangi said, punching a flame downward at Kyoshi’s front foot, forcing her to pull it back. “The fact that its coming easier to you now means you’re feeling more relaxed and natural.”
Kyoshi snap-kicked her new leading leg. A crescent of fire sliced upward, and Rangi had to reconsider how much pressure she wanted to apply. “Isn’t that a good thing?” Kyoshi asked.
“No! Why would it be? You feel loose and breezy when you’re surrounded by daofei, about to risk your life for them in what’s essentially an act of treason against the Earth Kingdom!?” Rangi spun on the balls of her feet, perfectly centered, with more dance-like beauty than Kyoshi could ever have mustered. A horizontal skirt of flame billowed out from her waist, exactly at a height too awkward for Kyoshi to jump over or duck easily.
Rangi hadn’t accounted for her opponent’s complete lack of shame. Kyoshi dropped to her belly like a worm, hugging the sides of the beam for stability, and let the wave of fire pass over her. She popped back up to see Rangi looking at her with disapproval in her eyes. And it was about more than her lowly escape.
“You’re firebending now,” Rangi said. “Dare I say, you might even be good at it. There’s no reason to continue on this path. We could go to the sages and prove you’re the Avatar.”
Kyoshi thought this matter had been settled, but apparently not. “Which ones, exactly?” she said. “Because the only sages I know are the names from Jianzhu’s guest lists! Should we try Lu Beifong? The man who thinks of Jianzhu like his own son? Or maybe someone at the court of Omashu! Omashu is practically his summer home!”
“We could go to my mother,” Rangi said, her voice barely audible.
Kyoshi dropped her fighting stance. If she caught a fireball to the face, she deserved it. She’d essentially separated Rangi from her only family. It was a nagging guilt that Kyoshi had been able to ignore, solely because of her friend’s strength. This was the first time Rangi had cracked along that plane.
“Do you really think she’d take our side over his?” Kyoshi asked. She didn’t mean for the question to be defiant. The friendship between the Avatar’s companions in eras past was the stuff of legend. It was said that two of Yangchen’s close friends and bending teachers had died protecting her from her enemies. The prospect of Hei-Ran choosing Jianzhu over her own daughter had to be considered.
Rangi’s face wilted further. “I don’t know,” she said after a while. Her shoulders were heavy with dejection. “I couldn’t be certain. I guess if we can’t trust my own mother, then we can’t trust anyone.”
It did not feel good to win this argument. Kyoshi stepped along the beam carefully until she could put her arms around Rangi. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve taken so much from you. I don’t know how to make it right.”
Rangi wiped her nose and pushed Kyoshi away. “You can start by promising me you’ll be a great Avatar. A leader who’s virtuous and just.”
The comment knocked Kyoshi off-balance better than a kick to her knee. She couldn’t reconcile her friend’s righteous desires with the dark conclusions of Lao Ge. Entertaining the wisdom of an assassin was already a betrayal of Rangi’s trust. What would happen if Kyoshi took the old man’s test and passed?
Rangi lined up a big attack to knock her off the beam, purposely exaggerating her own motions and openings to let her student counter-hit her. But Kyoshi couldn’t capitalize on them. She backed away until she ran out of space, forlornly waving her hands in a mockery of firebending, heat sputtering from her fingers.
Luck intervened before she humiliated herself further. “You two have been here all morning,” Kirima called out as she approached along the trail. “It’s my turn with Kyoshi.”
