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Kyoshi sent forth a snaking torrent of wind from one of her palms that blew past the squad of guardsmen and slammed the exit’s heavy wooden door shut. Yun was close to the floor and was weighed down by iron shackles, so he was saved from the brunt of it, but one of his captors was thrown into the back wall and knocked out. The other one tried to pull the door open by the bronze ring handle, but she kept up the gale-force pressure and it refused to budge.
The rest of the soldiers attacked. They were the royal elite, undoubtedly selected from the best of the best to serve in the palace.
But Kyoshi was the Avatar. And she still had a free hand.
She advanced down the hall through the storm of fireballs, deflecting them at first to the left and right, and then simply catching them once she gauged just how far her raw bending strength surpassed her opponents. She didn’t have to outthink here in this confined space, or possess better techniq
ue. She could overwhelm.
“Call for reinforcements!” one of the guards screamed as his mistimed fire jab dissipated ineffectually against Kyoshi’s chest. But there were only two ways out of the corridor, and she controlled them both. She flicked a single wrist to counterattack.
The dirty secret of airbending Kyoshi had learned through experience was that it was absolutely devastating in close quarters. Surrounded by hard objects, the gentle art of monks and nuns turned utterly brutal. She sent wind back and forth with rapid changes of direction. The guards were taken by their midsections, flung into spine-rattling collisions with the walls and ceilings. They collapsed into armored heaps.
Kyoshi walked up to the shackled and blindfolded man who’d managed to inch himself into a sitting position. “Who are you?” she asked. “Who are you, really? Because I know you’re not Yun.”
He cringed. “What do you mean? I’m Yun, the man who attacked the palace, the false Avatar—”
She snatched away the cloth tied over his eyes to reveal golden irises. He was Fire Nation, though he looked very much like the man he was impersonating. He had the same handsome planes to his face as Yun, the same hair, the same build. The similarity was amazing, as brotherly as Zoryu and Chaejin.
But Kyoshi knew he was a fake from the first word he’d said out loud. He’d been coached to sound like Yun and was good enough to fool the nobles who’d been at the party. But he wasn’t good enough to trick someone who’d lived with Yun and heard every emotion his voice could produce, laughter and despair and maybe even love somewhere in between.
Nor was he wounded in the shoulder. Kyoshi hadn’t shared that detail with Zoryu. If she had, the Fire Lord would have undoubtedly burned the man to keep up the ruse.
Kyoshi knelt down and gripped the bindings between his ankles, heating them in her hands. She’d pulled off this metal-snapping trick once before, but back in Governor Te’s mansion she didn’t have to worry about scorching someone else.
“What are you doing?” the man yelled. He tried to worm free of her grasp.
“Stop moving! I’m getting you out of here! I won’t let you die for crimes you didn’t commit!”
“You can’t! Leave me alone! I need this!”
It took a great deal to distract her so badly that she could feel the pain of burning herself through the numbness of her lightning scars. She hissed and dropped the red-hot iron. “You need to die?!”
“Yes! My family in Hanno’wu, we have nothing! Less than nothing! My debts—the Fire Lord promised me they’d be paid off upon my death! This is the last thing I can do for my wife and children!”
Shouts echoed and bounced off the walls. “Please,” the man begged. “I was promised a quick and merciful execution. My family will starve if I don’t do this. Save me and you’ll be killing them.”
In his scramble for more arguments to hurl at Kyoshi, the man who was probably a farmer or a fisherman down on his luck resorted to the highest level of politics. “The court needs its scapegoat, doesn’t it? I understand the situation; I’m not stupid. Letting me die is necessary for the country!”
He spoke the Fire Lord’s argument on Zoryu’s behalf. It was necessary. Everything was necessary. An innocent man was going to die, and the whole world down to the victim himself was whispering in her ear to stand back and let it happen.
Kyoshi’s shriek started low in her stomach and filled her body. It was a sound of pure and total despair. The country would be saved. Her side had won.
The guards rounding the corner were thrown back by her cries of anguish, the ghost tearing itself free from her lungs. Yun’s impostor, so ready to die, shuddered away from her howls like they were curses. Kyoshi screamed in the darkness, over and over again, her hatred for the world and herself spiraling into oblivion.
HOUSECLEANING
She found Zoryu in the war room. A large table had been set amid the dragons. On top were two maps, one of the Fire Islands, and another of a single landmass resembling a fish’s head. Ma’inka. The island looked like the main dish of a banquet, ready to be carved up and served.
The Fire Lord himself was alone in the empty hall, no advisors to give him counsel, leaning over the strategy table with outspread hands as the heavy burden of rulership weighed on his shoulders. Kyoshi wondered why he stayed there, not reacting to her entrance, until she realized there was one other person in the corner of the room. An artist making a sketch, scribbling diligently on a small canvas.
Zoryu wanted to capture the most pivotal moment of his reign for posterity. The pose was too informal for his entry into the royal gallery. This was meant to be a more intimate masterpiece, something to show his grandchildren and their grandchildren. No glory in victory, for one as wise as Zoryu, only the pain and burden of leadership.
“Leave,” Kyoshi said to the artist. The young woman tucked her sketch under her arm and started for the door before remembering to wait for her Fire Lord’s permission. Zoryu waved her away.
“Before today, she would have walked straight out of this room without a second glance at me,” he said to Kyoshi once they were alone. “I’m making progress.”
So he was. “Where did you find the double?”
