My hands shake. I sink to my knees, preserving the strength to stand, and shrivel more flames. Several more return in its place. I cannot win this. My soul-fire is shrinking and weakening my shield. Heat breaks through, drying my lips. Smoke chokes me. I am drowning again, this time on flame’s breath.
A breeze encases me, and I inhale sharply. Rohan stands at my side, summoning a clean wind that flows around us.
Indah comes into sight beside us, with Pons. She throws water, hissing flames to embers, while Rohan and Pons maintain breathable air. I collect the last of my soul-fire and command the fiery destruction to bow to me. The flames dip, kneeling at my feet. Citra crosses to us and stamps out the last of the blaze with a mudslide.
Rohan pushes away the smoky air with a slingshot of wind, and my eyes clear of the burning sensation.
Indah looks up at Pons and grins. “You have soot on your face.” She taps his nose, and he grins at her.
Rohan stamps out cinders beneath his feet. I taste ash in my mouth and feel gritty soot inside my ears. Citra rests on a pile of rubble. Her usually flawless hair lies limp around her dirty face.
Opal’s wing flyer swoops down from overhead. Before the craft comes to a full stop, Ashwin jumps off and runs to me. I meet him halfway, and he grabs me against him.
“I saw you on the barge.” His voice is muffled, his mouth pressed to the side of my head. “You walked into fire.”
“I guess I did,” I reply, just as amazed at myself. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” He leans away, and his shock evolves to marvel. “When you vanished into the fire, I panicked. Then I saw you inside it, shining like a star.”
“I’m glad you aren’t hurt either.”
Sultan Kuval marches up the shoreline, a fleet of soldiers at his heels. Citra clambers to her feet. “Kindred Kalinda!” the sultan shouts. “You are an abomination. Look what you did!”
More smoke clears, exposing the wreckage around me: the ruined boats and dock, half sunken and charred beyond repair. The reality of the sultan’s blame silences any defense of my actions. Everywhere I go, I leave a trail of ashes.
“Disqualify her, Father,” Citra demands. He would not guess that moments ago we were battling alongside each other to put out the fire. “She didn’t pass her test.”
“She did.” Ashwin wraps his arm around me, and I lean into him. Let them see us united. “Kalinda’s trial was to extinguish the barge fire. No one mentioned the buoy ropes.”
Sultan Kuval roars. “This would not have happened if Kalinda weren’t a—”
“I do hope you’re going to say the aftermath of the fire would have been worse without the kindred’s aid,” Ashwin warns. “Anything else would be disrespectful, and after showing great valor by risking her life twice today—once to pass the perilous trial you forced upon her and again to save your city—she deserves your appreciation. Or if you cannot muster gratitude, at the very least you can manage silence.”
Sultan Kuval sucks his bared teeth, and Citra’s mouth falls open. Before they can utter another vile word, Ashwin pulls me closer, and we walk away.
21
DEVEN
Cries sound outside the tent. Yatin does not stir from his nap. He is like a hibernating bear; he can sleep through anything. I bat away more annoying mosquitoes and step outside.
Smoke billows over the city skyline. Not long ago, a thunderstorm came out of nowhere and drenched us. Yatin and I took cover in our tent, but my clothes are still damp from the rain. My suspicions double. These odd natural occurrences must have to do with the trial tournament.
On the hillside rank board, Kali’s name remains, along with her three competitors. Is Kali up against her own kind? Do they know she’s a Burner?
Bhuta prison guards jog past me. Apprehension quickens my pace as I follow them to the gate. Most of the guards file out. Only two bhutas stay behind—even the towers are empty. From the symbols on their yellow armbands, they are Tremblers, not Galers.
This is the chance I have been waiting for. I have memorized how many guards are on duty on average—twenty. How many prisoners—approximately five hundred. How many guards are bhutas—about half. The guards change shifts at noon and midnight. Twelve-hour stints mean they are worn out at the end of their watches. Tired men make mistakes.
I stride up to a man I sparred with the other day, the one who landed the hit to my mouth. My lip has mostly healed, but it hurts when I smile. Not that I have had much to smile about lately. I tug on his sleeve and lead him around a corner so we are hidden from the remaining guards.
“Have you seen Manas?” I ask.
“Last time I saw him he was sulking outside the sick tent.”
“Go get him and then wake Yatin. Tell them to meet me by the latrine.”
He reclines against the outer wall, in no rush to obey. “You aren’t my captain.”
I lean into his face and drop my voice to a growl. “If you bear any love for our homeland, you will do as I say.” He cringes from me. “Go quickly.”
The soldier rushes off, and I round the corner. The other men and guards are captivated by the plumes of smoke in the distance. I stroll past them to the deserted east end of camp. The latrine area is the only place I can guarantee privacy. But skies, it stinks.
While I wait, the smoke continues to pour into the sky and frustration builds inside me. I cannot shake the nagging worry that Kali is in trouble. I slam my fist against the high prison wall, wishing I had the power to knock it down. Kali is out there fighting, and I cannot help her.
The soldier I sent on my errand shows up near the tents alone. He shrugs and hurries off. Manas must have refused to meet me, and I doubt he woke Yatin.
Great gods, do I have to do everything myself?
I stalk to the opposite end of camp, my angry strides eating up the muddy ground. Manas sits cross-legged across from the sick tent, brooding. He has been waiting to see Eko, but only the sick are allowed inside. Ten more men have fallen ill since yesterday.
I prowl up to him. “Get up.”
He sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees. I oppose violence as a means of garnering cooperation, but I do not have time for his snit. I grab him by the scruff of his shirt and haul him to his feet.
“Take your hands off me!” he says. I shove him into the dead end beside the sick tent and block his exit. “I don’t have to listen to you.”
He tries to skirt past me, but I hold him back. “I am your commanding officer, and I’ve had enough of your insubordination. Explain yourself. How did you escape Vanhi?”
“Brother Shaan brought me with him.”
“How did you escape Hastin?”
He casts me a petulant glower. “What do you care? You left me.”
“Are you working for Hastin?”
Manas scoffs harshly. “You’re questioning my loyalty?”
I grab him by his shoulders and shake him a little. “Answer me.”