The Rise of Kyoshi

The Town

The Taihua Mountains south of Ba Sing Se were treacherous beyond measure. They were said to have swallowed armies in the days of the city’s founding. Howling blizzards could freeze a traveler’s feet to the ground, snapping them off at the ankles. Once every decade or so, the winds would shift, carrying red dust from Si Wong to the peaks of Taihua, polluting the snow a fearsome bloody color, turning the mountains into daggers plunged through the heart of the world.

Pengpeng sailed over the dangerous terrain, unbothered. From their vantage point Kyoshi and the others could see any weather sneaking up on them, and right now it was clear in every direction.

“This is the life,” Lek said. He rolled over onto his side, reaching over the saddle, and patted her fur. “That’s a good girl. Who’s a good girl?”

He’d been trying to get the bison to like him more than Kyoshi and Rangi at every available opportunity. Kyoshi didn’t mind so much. It meant Lek took care of foraging and watering for Pengpeng. Like she had her own stablehand.

“Oof, I’m glad you remembered to come back for me,” Lao Ge said. “There’s no way I could have made it here on my own.” The old man yawned and stretched, catching as much of the breeze between his arms as he could. “I have to remember not to wander off by myself for too long.”

His comment made Kyoshi’s stomach constrict. The journal said that Lao Ge came back from his jaunts with blood on his hands. She wondered if her mother had sat this close to him as they traveled, afraid that she might be one of his victims in the future.

“We’re way past the last charted outposts,” Rangi said from the driver’s seat. “Beyond that, the mountains haven’t been mapped.”

“Yeah, an outlaw town isn’t going to be on a map,” Kirima said. “This is the exact flight path we used to take with Jesa. Keep going.”

As they flew toward a line of jutting gray peaks, the mountains separated, gaining depth. The formation was less a ridge and more of a ring that obscured a crater from all sides. The depression held a small, shallow lake that Kyoshi thought was brown and polluted at first. But as they flew closer, she saw the water was as clear and pure as could be. She’d been looking straight through the lake to the dirt bottom.

Next to the lake, built into the slope like a rice terrace, was an encampment slightly more handsome than the slums of Chameleon Bay. Longhouses had been constructed out of mountain lumber hauled from the forests down below. Several of them sat on makeshift piles, fighting a losing battle against erosion. Glinting with openly carried weapons, people filed in between the gaps and along the streets.

“Welcome to Hujiang,” Kirima said. “One of the few remaining places in the world where Followers of the Code gather freely.”

“Is everyone down there a daofei?” Kyoshi said.

“Yes,” Wong said. He frowned at the crowds below. “Though it seems more busy than usual.”

They’d approached with the sun behind them out of caution. Lek pointed Rangi toward a cave farther away where Kyoshi’s mother used to hide Longyan. They landed Pengpeng there, camouflaged her with fallen branches and shrubs, and suffered the lengthy hike to town.

The longtime members of the Flying Opera Company were prepared for the fine silt that rose from the winding, narrow path, stirred by their footsteps. They pulled close-woven neckerchiefs over their noses and mouths and smirked underneath when Kyoshi and Rangi looked askance at them with reddened eyes. The group was still figuring out what courtesies to share. Apparently spare dust masks fell by the wayside.

Rounding the mountain, they entered Hujiang from above, carefully picking their way down crudely carved steps that were oversized to cut down on the number needed. Kyoshi wondered why they weren’t earthbent into shape.

They came to one of the large streets and lowered their scarves. “You should probably keep your head down this time,” Rangi said to Kyoshi. “Instead of barging in like you own the place.” The debacle in Chameleon Bay still weighed on her mind.

“No!” Kirima hissed. “You act meek in this town, and everyone will think you’re weak! Follow our lead.”

As they joined the flow of traffic, the Waterbender seemed to grow in stature, expanding her presence. Kirima normally retained a certain amount of elegance to her movements, but now she stepped through the crowd with exaggerated purpose and delicacy. She gazed through lidded eyes down the length of her chin as she walked, a picture of sophistication, a swords-woman moving through a form with a live blade. Interrupting her flow would mean getting cut to shreds.

“Gotta look like you’re ready to take someone’s head off at any moment, for any reason,” Wong said. “Or else you’ll get challenged.” He followed Kirima with angry stomps, abandoning the agility Kyoshi knew he possessed. His feet sent seismic thuds through the ground.

“Topknot’s got it,” Lek said, pointing at Rangi. “Look at her, boiling away with Firebender rage. See if you can pull that off.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Rangi protested. “This is my normal face.”

“You could also try to be like me!” Lao Ge said. He hunched inside his threadbare clothes, hiding his muscles, and flashed his manic, gap-toothed smile. He looked like the group’s shameful grandfather who’d escaped from the attic.

“Picking a fight with you would be a disgrace,” Lek said.

“Exactly!”

They made their way toward the bazaar in the center of town. It was slow going, trying to look tough. And not just for them. The other outlaws swaggered along the avenues, chests thrust out, elbows wide. A few favored Kirima’s approach of razor-edged refinement, carrying narrow jians instead of broadswords to complete the image.

Practically everyone was armed to the teeth. Most with swords and spears, but more exotic weapons like three-section staves, deer-horn blades, and meteor hammers were surprisingly common as well. Kyoshi spotted a few people wielding arms that should have been flat-out impossible to fight with. One man had a basket with knives lining the edge and a tether trailing off it.

“Is that guy carrying a muck rake?” Rangi whispered, tilting her head at a pug-nosed man waddling by.

“That’s Moon-Seizing Zhu, and don’t stare at the rake,” Lek said. “I’ve seen him puncture the skulls of two men at once with it.”

The Flying Opera Company had by far the least amount of metal on their persons. “Most of these people don’t seem like benders,” Kyoshi said.

“What, are you looking to trade us in for better teachers?” Kirima said. “Because you’re right—they’re not benders. Most outlaws live and die by the weapons in their hands. Our crew is a rarity.”

“Honestly, I think you should appreciate us more,” Wong said.

Kyoshi was distracted by a clatter of metal to the side. Two men, both carrying swords, had bumped into each other as they rounded a corner in opposite directions. The street slowed around them. Kyoshi’s stomach churned as she anticipated a surge of violence, gore running through the gutters.

It never came. Blades stayed in their scabbards while the men apologized profusely to each other, acting as friendly as two merchants who were planning a marriage between their children. There were promises to buy cups of tea and wine for each other before they parted ways. The happy smiles stayed on their faces long after the encounter.

“They’ll meet on the challenge platform tonight,” Lek said. “Probably during the weapons portion of the evening.” He made a bloody, strangled noise that made it obvious what the outcome would be.

“What?” Kyoshi said. “That wasn’t a big deal!”

“You don’t understand,” he said. “In this world, the only currency you have is your name and your willingness to defend it. If either of those men showed fear or poor self-control, they’d never get taken on by an outfit again. They had no other options.”

“They could stop being daofei,” Rangi muttered.

“Like it’s so easy to do whatever you want!” Lek’s face was full of bitterness. “You think honest work rains down from the sky? This is why the two of you are the worst! No one takes up this life on purpose!”

“Lek,” Kirima warned.

His shouting had drawn attention. Eyes watched them from the windows and porches of houses, anticipating a second act to tonight’s performance.

Lek calmed down. “Keep walking,” he said to Rangi and Kyoshi. “Show them we’re together, and it’ll be fine.”

Kyoshi had no objection to following his lead this time. She controlled her posture with renewed seriousness. They resumed picking their way through the town.

“There’s an expression in these parts,” Wong said, his low grumble giving the argument a close. “When the Law gives you nothing to eat, you turn to the Code. Then at least you can feast on your pride.”

The Hujiang bazaar was ... a bazaar. Not much different from the one in Qinchao Village, which neighbored Yokoya. Vendors sat cross-legged next to piles of their wares on tarps laid over the ground, scowling at passersby who kicked up too much dust or lingered without buying. The sounds of haggling rang out in the air. Here, it was safe to let loose with aggression. There seemed to be a distinction between the warriors and the black marketeers who supplied them.

Kyoshi noticed that most of the peddlers specialized in traveling food: dried and smoked meats, beans and lentils. Rice was expensive: produce more so. The “fresh” vegetables were brown and wilted, and the rare pieces of shriveled fruit looked more like decorative antiques.

“How did this stuff travel up here?” she asked. “For that matter, how did the people?”

“There’re unmarked passageways through the mountains,” Kirima said. “More trade secrets. The royal surveyors in Ba Sing Se don’t have a clue.”

That must have been a big part of why daofei were so hard to stamp out for good. Kyoshi reflected on what Jianzhu had told her, about the Earth Kingdom being too big to police. If underground networks like this one could thrive so near the capital, then the rot must be worse throughout the far reaches of the continent. A whole other community existed below the surface of the Earth Kingdom.

The moniker of the Fifth Nation pirate fleet suddenly took on a defiant meaning. We’re here, Kyoshi imagined their formidable leader saying with an ice-blue stare. We’ve always been here. Ignore us at your peril.

Wong’s foot caught on a brass oil lamp. The vendor it belonged to cursed before looking upward and silencing himself willingly. With his size, the Flitting Sparrowkeet didn’t need name recognition. First glances were enough.

“It’s crowded,” Wong repeated. He’d been fixated on that since they’d arrived.

Kirima and Lek took his complaint seriously. They lifted their heads higher, scanning the bazaar. Kyoshi tried to help, but she had no idea what to look for.

“East by northeast,” Rangi said. “They’re listening to someone speak.”

Sure enough, the people gathered in that corner of the bazaar had their backs turned, showing dao broadswords or other weapons strapped to their torsos. They nodded intently, absorbing whatever message was being preached to them. Someone found the leader a stool or a crate, because he stepped upward to reveal an ugly face bisected by a leather strap.

Lek and Kirima both swore loudly. “We’ve got to get out of here,” Lek said. “Now.”

“What’s the problem?” Rangi said.

“The problem is we shouldn’t have come here,” Kirima said. “We’ve got to leave town. As fast as possible.”

“Don’t make eye contact!” Lek said as Kyoshi tried to get one last glance at the man. The strap looked like it was holding his nose in place. His speech had reached a fever pitch, his jaws working up and down like he had a chunk of meat between them. Strangely, he had a moon peach blossom tucked into his collar.

She didn’t have time to see any more details. They hustled back the way they came. Only to run into someone in the exact same spot as the earlier encounter they’d witnessed. That blind spot was a death trap.

Lek’s face fell in despair. He backed up a few steps and bowed sharply using the same fist-over-hand salute from when he’d greeted Kyoshi for the first time. So did Kirima and Wong.

“Uncle Mok,” they said in chorus, keeping their heads lowered.

The man they waited on for a response was dressed in plain merchant’s robes. His spotlessness stood out in the dusty filth of the town. He was strikingly handsome, with narrow eyes resting over fine cheekbones. And there was a moon peach blossom tucked into his lapel.

He couldn’t have been older than Kirima. Kyoshi didn’t understand why they were calling him “Uncle.”

“Bullet Lek,” Uncle Mok said. “And friends. You made the long journey from Chameleon Bay.”

“It had been too long since we felt the embrace of our brethren,” Lek said, trembling. In the short time she’d known him, Kyoshi had never heard the boy speak with such deference. Or fear.

“And you brought extra bodies?” Mok eyed the two new members of the group.

Rangi had already matched the bows of the others, calculating that sometimes it was better to keep quiet and play along. Kyoshi tried to do the same, but not without Mok catching her using the wrong hands at first.

“Fresh fish,” Kirima explained, raising her head only slightly. “We’re still beating respect and tradition into them. Kyoshi, Rangi, this is our elder, Mok the Accountant.”

There was no mention of an “elder” Mok in the journal. As far as Kyoshi knew, her parents were the elders of the group.

“See that you do,” Mok said with what he deemed a warm smile. “Without our codes, we are nothing but animals, begging for fences. It’s fortuitous that you’re here, for I have business to discuss with you.”

“How lucky we are,” Wong said. If it rankled him, bowing to a younger man, he kept it to himself. Kyoshi noticed that Lao Ge had managed to disappear yet again. She wondered if it was solely so he didn’t have to call Mok “Uncle.”

“Let’s discuss it tonight,” Mok said. “Why don’t you join me as my guests at the challenge platform? When there’s this many people in town, blood runs high. Should be fun!”

“It would be our distinguished honor, Uncle,” Rangi said, beating the others to the punch. “Our gratitude for the invitation.”

Mok beamed. “Fire Nation. It’s wonderful how respect comes so naturally to them.” He reached out and knocked Lek’s headwrap to the ground so he could tousle the boy’s hair.

“I remember when I first met this one,” he said as he fixed Kyoshi with his slitted gaze. His fingers gripped Lek’s scalp, yanking and twisting his head around, making sure it hurt. “He was such a mouthy little brat. But he learned how to act.”

Lek put up with the manhandling without a noise. Mok cast him to the side like an apple core. “I hope you’re an equally quick study,” he said to Kyoshi, making a clicking noise with his teeth.

After Mok left, no one spoke. They waited for Lek to pick up his hat off the ground and smooth his hair. His eyes were red from more than dust.

Kyoshi had questions, but she was afraid of saying them out loud in the street. She knew exactly what kind of man the Accountant was.

Jianzhu had once implemented a policy that any member of the staff, no matter how lowly, could talk to him personally about any household concern. Kyoshi saw the gesture of kindness devolve into some of the servants ratting each other out over minor grievances, hoping to curry favor. She knew now that had been his intent all along.

The longhouse-lined streets of Hujiang felt like the walls of the mansion during the worst of the paranoia. She had no doubt that a careless word risked making it to Mok’s ears. She followed her group to a termite-eaten inn that hadn’t been painted since Yangchen was alive. Many of the outlaws they passed along the way had moon peach blossoms in various states of freshness placed somewhere on their person. She couldn’t believe how dumb she was not to have noticed before.

They paid for a single room and tromped up the stairs, a funeral procession. Inside their lodgings, the bare planks of the floor had been oiled by the touch of human skin. There weren’t enough beds if they were planning to sleep here tonight.

“This is one of the tighter-built houses,” Kirima said after she shut the door and slumped against a wall. “It’ll be safe to talk as long as you don’t shout.”

Wong stuck his head out the window and did a full sweep of the street below, craning his head upward to check the roof. He pulled himself back in and latched the shutters closed. “I suppose you want an explanation,” he said.

“Those hard times we mentioned back in Chameleon Bay,” Kirima said. “They were pretty hard. After your parents died, Jesa’s bison escaped, and we never saw him again.”

Kyoshi understood that much. The link between Air Nomads and their flying companions was so strong that the animals would normally run away and rejoin wild herds if they lost their Airbender. It was a complete miracle that Pengpeng had stuck around to help her.

“We were trapped in the wrong city with too many debts to the wrong people,” Kirima continued, ignoring the irony that by most standards they were the wrong people. “We were desperate. So we accepted the Autumn Bloom Society as our elders in exchange for some favors and cash.”

“The peach flower guys,” Wong said.

Moon peaches normally bloomed in spring, but then again these were daofei, not farmers. “I take it this group is now beholden to the Autumn Bloom?” Rangi said.

“It seemed like a safe move at the time,” Kirima said. “After the Yellow Necks scattered, there were so many smaller societies grubbing for the scraps. Mok and the Autumn Bloom started off as nothing special. But then they began to squeeze the other outfits.”

“And by squeeze we mean crush them to a pulp and suck on the bloodstains,” Wong said.

“They were barely concerned with turning a profit,” Kirima said, shaking her head at the greatest outrage of all. “The law hasn’t caught wind of them yet because they’ve yet to make any big plays aboveground.”

“Well, I can guarantee you that’s about to change,” Rangi said. “What we saw in the bazaar was a campaign muster. A recruitment drive. Mok has big plans ahead.”

“And we’re signed up now,” Kirima said. “If we disobey a summons by our sworn elders, our name will be worth less than mud. We’ll be worse off than before we met the Autumn Bloom.”

“Plus he’ll, you know, kill us,” Wong said.

Lek thumped the back of his head against the wall. “Mok owns us now,” he said. He sounded like he was speaking through an empty gourd. “Our independence was Jesa and Hark’s pride. And we threw it away. Because of me.”

“Lek,” Kirima said sharply. “You were injured and would have died without treatment. We’ve been over this.”

“Stung by a buzzard wasp,” Lek said to Kyoshi and Rangi. He laughed with a bitterness that had to have been developed over many nights of reflection. “Can you believe it? Like I was fated to be this group’s downfall.”

“Jesa and Hark would have made the same decision in a heartbeat,” Kirima said.

Kyoshi’s breath rushed in and out through her nose. Slowly at first, and then faster and faster, until her lungs felt like they’d escape through the holes in her skull.

She remembered scraping her head against the frozen ground when she was little, trying to seek relief for the fever blazing within her body. She remembered trying to walk again after untreated sickness sapped her muscles, not being certain if the shaking would ever go away.

Was it possible to enter the Avatar State through sheer contempt? She stared at the daofei, lost in their own histories. What did they know, huh? What did they know? They’d had each other. Family willing to make sacrifices. She had no doubt that Jesa and Hark would have done anything for their gang. Just not their daughter. Sworn ties trumped blood ties. Wasn’t that the lesson that needed to be etched into her bones?

“Oh, boo-hoo,” Kyoshi snapped. “How pathetic of you.”

They turned their heads toward her. She refused to look at any one of them, instead staring at a blank spot on the wall where a knot had fallen out of the wood, leaving a dent in the plank.

“So your choices had consequences,” Kyoshi said. “That’s not the definition of a raw deal. That’s life. You made your bed with Mok’s, and I made mine with yours. I should be the one complaining.”

She wished she had a spitting habit so she could add the appropriate color to what she was saying. “If he wants us to show up tonight, then we show up tonight. We do whatever he wants us to do. And then we all can get what we came here for.”

She ended her statement a hair’s breadth from shouting. A long silence followed.

“Kyoshi’s got a point,” Kirima said. The wall creaked as she took her shoulder off it. “We have no choice but to take things one step at a time.”

“She didn’t have to be so mean,” Wong muttered.

After Kyoshi’s outburst, Rangi asked the others for a moment alone with her. They filed out like sullen children. The room transformed from too small to too big.

“Don’t yell at me,” Kyoshi said preemptively. “None of this Autumn Bloom nonsense was in the journal.”

“And yet here we are anyway,” Rangi said. She seemed at a loss for what to say. She pointed in different directions to emphasize rants she hadn’t made yet.

Eventually she settled for a question. “Do you know what it’s like, watching you sink deeper into this muck?”

“I’m doing what’s necessary,” Kyoshi said. “If you want me to make faster progress, then let’s go find an isolated spot and practice more firebending.”

“Kyoshi, you’re not listening to me.” Rangi instinctively lowered her voice to protect their secret. “You’re the Avatar.”

“I remember, Rangi.”

“Do you?” she said. “Do you really? Because the last time I checked, the Avatar is supposed to be shaping the world for the good of humans and spirits, not risking their neck to help a bunch of second-story thieves pay off their debts!”

She held back from punching the nearest wall. “Did you know that the Avatar is supposed to be able to commune with their past lives, gaining access to the wisdom of centuries?” she said. “With the right lessons, you could have been asking Yangchen herself for guidance right now. But no! You don’t have that option, because my guess is that spiritual teachers are a little hard to come by in our current social circle!”

Rangi waved her hand around at the room, at Hujiang, at the Taihua Mountains themselves. “To see you here? It kills me. The fact that you’re stuck here, where no one knows who you truly are, makes me die a little inside with each passing moment. You’re meant to have the best of everything and instead you have this.”

She rubbed at the creases in her forehead with her fingers. “A daofei town! A normal Avatar would have been responsible for wiping this encampment off the face of the earth!”

So she was upset about Kyoshi neglecting her duties. And nothing more. Rangi wanted a normal Avatar. Not whatever Kyoshi was.

She’s a true believer. Yun’s words came back like he was standing beside her, whispering in her ear. Rangi couldn’t handle any more disgrace to the office. Kyoshi was poor raw material for an Avatar to begin with, and her selfish choices had only defiled the position further.

“Rangi.” Kyoshi’s heart felt harder than it ever had, dull metal weighing her chest down. “The world waited years for an Avatar. It can wait a little longer. And so can you.”

She thought she heard a little puff of breath come from behind Rangi’s hands. But when the Firebender lowered her arms, she was as calm and stony as the mountain.

“You’re right,” Rangi said. “After all, I’m just your bodyguard. I have to do what you say.”

Nightfall did Hujiang a favor in appearance. Unlike honest folk who went to bed soon after the sun went down, the daofei settlement lit up with torchlight to continue business. The slope of the mountain spread out below the inn looked like it had attracted a cloud of fireflies.

A meal of rice gruel and dried sweet potato did little to help them relax. Before they left the inn, Lek tightened the thongs covering his sleeves with such ferocity that Kyoshi was afraid his hands would go purple.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m worried about Pengpeng, is all,” he said defiantly. “Don’t let it slip that we have her. Mok would probably kill us and try to tame her himself.”

It made more and more sense, the degree to which outlaws coveted a sky bison. Flight was normally a feat restricted to the pure of heart. As an Airbender willing to sully herself with dirty work, Kyoshi’s mother must have been in high demand.

The streets were emptier than during the day. The daofei had gathered inside drinkhouses, and drinkhouses seemed to comprise half the town. Kyoshi could hear laughter and arguments and poorly composed poetry spilling from the windows they passed. She imagined Lao Ge was in one of the taverns, swindling for booze. Or indulging in his other hobby.

They came to a house bigger than the others. A broad, high barn that shook with noise. The shouting inside rose and fell in waves, punctuated with cries of delight or disappointment. Another man wearing a peach flower in his hat greeted them at the door.

“Uncle Mok is waiting for you on the balcony,” he said as he bowed.

Going inside, they were immediately absorbed by a throng of spectators. The center of the floor held a large wooden platform covered with a tightly drawn layer of canvas held down with ropes, giving the structure the appearance of a great drum. Two men circled each other warily on top, stepping through stances, refusing to blink as sweat gathered on their faces.

“Lei tai,” Kirima said to Kyoshi. “Ever seen one before?”

She hadn’t. She knew of earthbending tournaments with a similar concept—knock the opponent off the platform and you win. But this stage was made of unbendable material, and the two men were fighting bare-knuckled and empty-handed. Throwing the opponent off would require closing the distance and getting to grips in ways benders normally disregarded.

Lek had mentioned a weapons portion of the evening. Now must have been the unarmed combat rounds, serving as a warm-up. The two men charged each other. Fists cracked against skulls. One of them got the better of the exchange and followed up with a devastating kick to the side of his opponent.

“Liver shot,” Kyoshi heard Rangi mutter. “It’s over.”

She’d seen the outcome before the loser did. He tried to resume his fighting stance but couldn’t raise his arms. In a slow, teetering arc that reminded Kyoshi of a cut tree, he fell to the surface of the platform, clutching his torso.

Kyoshi expected the standing man to peacock in victory, spend some time basking in the adulation of the crowd. Instead he pounced on his downed opponent, who was clearly unable to continue, and began punching him viciously in the head.

“Here’s a lesson for you square folk,” Wong said. “It’s over when the winner says it’s over.”

Kyoshi had to turn away. She heard dull, wet thuds interspersed with the cheers of the crowd and nearly threw up on her feet. She was listening to a man get beaten to death.

There was a round of boos, and she looked up. The man left standing had decided to stop the assault, though Kyoshi could tell the decision was less about mercy and more about saving energy. He went back to one corner of the platform where attendees had placed a stool for him to sit. He held out his hand, and a cup of tea appeared in it. Being the champion came with some perks.

Two volunteers carried off his vanquished opponent by the arms and legs. Only a cough of blood spray gave any indication the man was still alive.

Kyoshi wanted to get this over with as fast as possible. “Where’s Mok?” she said.

“There.” Kirima pointed to the second level. Kyoshi’s suspicions were correct; this place was a barn. The “balcony” was a converted hayloft. Mok sat on a giant, thronelike chair that had to have been lifted into place with pulleys. Beside him stood the strap-nosed man from the bazaar, the one who’d been recruiting outlaws with spiritual zeal.

The Flying Opera Company went up the old-fashioned way, and they had to do it one at a time. The three more experienced members went first. Kyoshi felt eyes on her as she climbed the long ladder, vulnerable with each bounce and sway of the wooden struts.

Mok had no guards with him, other than the street preacher. And the others had told her neither of them were benders. Either daofei were stingy when it came to personal protection, or they preferred to display strength this way. “This is my lieutenant, Brother Wai,” Mok said, gesturing to the wild-eyed man. “You will pay him the same respect that you do me.”

Kyoshi bowed along with the others, but Wai was silent. He stared at the group with seething contempt, like he detected the taint of evil buried deep in their bones. She became conscious of her flayed leg that had scabbed over, of the waking nightmare she’d pushed to the back of her mind. But Wai paid her no special attention. He despised them all equally.

Mok, on the other hand, singled Kyoshi out. “New girl,” he said. “You seemed a little blood-shy just now. Not a trait I like in my subordinates.”

Wong and Kirima tensed up. They’d warned her about the need to keep a certain mask on, and she hadn’t taken them seriously enough. Kyoshi tried to think of something to say that would placate Mok.

“She’s tough when it counts, Uncle,” Lek interjected. “I personally saw Kyoshi wipe the floor with a whole squad of lawmen back in Chameleon Bay.”

Mok made a signal with his finger. In a motion so smooth that it looked rehearsed, Wai pulled out a knife, grabbed Lek by the hand, and slashed him across the palm. Lek stared disbelievingly at the fresh red wound for a moment.

“Funny,” Mok said. “I don’t think I was talking to you.”

A spatter of blood landed on the floor. Lek doubled over, clutching his hand to his stomach, and stifled a scream. Wong and Kirima’s faces were white with anger, but they maintained their positions, shoulders hunched in deference.

Kyoshi forced herself to look this time, to watch Lek suffer. Mok was testing her, she realized. Her weakness had gotten her companion hurt, and this was the price.

Her limbs went cold as a vision of the future swept her in its embrace. She was going to sort this Mok one day. Neatly on the shelf, right below Jianzhu. Him and Wai both. They’d have a place of honor in her heart.

But for now, the face she gave them was made of stone. She saw Lek straighten up and tug his sleeve over the wound, clenching his jaw and fist tight. He stared at the space between his shoes. Other than the bloodstain blooming at the end of his shirt, she would have been hard-pressed to tell that he was injured.

“Better this time,” Mok said to Kyoshi. “Unless for some reason you don’t like the boy.”

She made a noncommittal little shrug. “There’s not many people I hate, Uncle.” The truth made it easier to remain calm.

“A fast learner indeed!” Mok caught a glimpse of something interesting happening below. The crowd roared, half of them booing and the other half expressing wild approval for whatever it was. He grinned and turned his full attention back to the center of the barn. “Not as fast, though, as your Firebender friend.”

Kyoshi followed his gaze. It took all of her newfound willpower not to shriek in horror.

Rangi was standing on the fighting platform.

“The beautiful thing about lei tai is that anyone can issue a challenge,” Mok said. “Simply by doing what she’s doing.”

Kyoshi had to look at the empty ladder again to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, that Rangi hadn’t followed right behind her as usual. To confirm that she could have gone so long without noticing her friend’s presence.

The champion, still sitting in the opposite corner, cocked his head in interest. Rangi met his gaze as she stripped off her bracers and shoulder pieces, throwing her heirloom armor to the ground like a fruit peel. Ignoring howls and whistles from the crowd, she disrobed until she was in the sleeveless white tunic she wore beneath her outer layers.

Rangi was above the average height for a girl. The muscles in her arms and back were well-formed and strong from years of training. But her opponent was taller and outweighed her by a third, if not more. She looked so tiny and vulnerable on the canvas, a small flower in the corner of a painting.

Kyoshi nearly jumped down from the hayloft to throw herself between the combatants. But Kirima and Wong gave her the same glance and imperceptible headshake from when Lek was cut. Don’t. You’ll make it worse.

The champion ran a hand down his braided queue and squinted at Rangi with beady eyes. He dabbed himself with a towel and flung it behind him. As he rose, his attendant plucked the stool off the platform. He’d rested enough. The man raised his chin and said a few words that Kyoshi couldn’t hear, but she guessed their meaning well enough.

No firebending.

Rangi nodded in agreement.

A lance went through Kyoshi’s heart as the two of them approached each other. The champion didn’t take a stance immediately. If he took the challenge of a young girl too seriously, he’d lose face.

Rangi let him know how wise that decision was by whirling a kick at the knee he was about to put his weight on. Only pure reflex saved him. He snatched his leg back before it snapped in half, and stumbled awkwardly around the platform, a drunk that had lost his footing. The crowd jeered.

“This girl,” Mok said with a tone of appreciation that sent fresh loathing down Kyoshi’s throat.

The champion righted himself and took up a deep stance. The disciplined movement in his lower body was at odds with the wrath coursing through his face.

As if to taunt him further, Rangi slid forward fearlessly until she was within his striking distance. Her expression was cool, impassive. It didn’t change when the man launched a flurry of blows. She read his limbs like the lines of a book, letting his momentum pass right by her as she made pivots so small and sharp that her feet squeaked against the canvas.

After he missed a straight punch that hung over her neck like a yoke, she bumped him in the armpit with her shoulder, timing it with his retraction. He went flying back, worse than before, his feet making a clownish attempt to support him. Kyoshi’s hope rose, forcing her to her tiptoes as he neared the edge. If he fell off the platform then this bad dream would end.

He managed to catch himself. Kyoshi heard a swear come from someone other than her. Rangi followed her opponent to the boundary but seemed unconcerned about pushing him over. She could have ended it with a nudge.

The man saw this and lost his composure. He lashed out with a wild punch devoid of technique. It was so telegraphed that Kyoshi could have ducked under it.

But in that instant, Rangi looked upward and locked eyes with Kyoshi. The blow struck her squarely in the face. She let it happen.

She tumbled across the platform and landed in the center, a lifeless heap. The weight difference had done its work. Kyoshi’s cry was drowned out by roar of the crowd.

The champion wiped his mouth as he sauntered over to Rangi’s body. The girl had humiliated him. He was going to take his time destroying her.

Kyoshi screamed to the rafters, invisible and unheard in the frenzy. Nothing mattered anymore but Rangi. She couldn’t lose the center of her being like this. She would have obliterated the world to undo what was happening.

Only Wong’s hands clamping down on Kyoshi’s shoulders held her in place as the man raised his foot high above Rangi’s skull. There was a blur of motion and the sound of muffled snapping.

Kyoshi’s mind caught up with her eyes. Her comprehension played out like a series of pictures, changed between blinks.

Rangi had spun out from under the man’s foot, rotating on her shoulders like a top, and wrapped her body around his standing leg. She’d made a subtle twist, and his limb shattered along every plane it could. The champion lay out on the canvas, writhing in pain, his leg reduced to an understuffed stocking attached to his body. Rangi stood over him, bleeding from the mouth. Other than the single punch she’d taken, she was fine. She hadn’t broken a sweat.

The spectators were silent. Her footsteps bounced off the canvas like drumbeats. She hopped lightly off the platform and gathered up her armor.

A single person clapping broke the pall. It was Mok, applauding furiously. It gave the crowd permission to react. They whooped and hollered for their new champion, surging toward her. A single glare made them hold off on slapping her back or lifting her onto their shoulders, but they got as close as they could, forming a little ring of appreciation around her.

Rangi made her way over to the ladder and climbed up with one hand, her gear bundled under the other arm. Her head peeked up over the edge of the hayloft, and then the rest of her body. She tossed the armor into the corner and bowed.

No one responded. They all waited on her next move, Mok and Wai included.

Rangi shrugged at the unasked question. “It seemed like fun,” she said calmly.

Kyoshi knew that was complete and utter bull pig. There was no reason for her to have such a lapse in judgment, to commit such a mind-bogglingly stupid act. Kyoshi wanted to punch Rangi so hard that she’d land on her rear end back in Yokoya. She was going to throttle the Firebender until flame came out of her ears.

Mok slapped his thighs and burst into laughter.

“A future boss in the making!” he said. “Dine with me tonight. I’ll tell you the plans I have in store.”

“How could we refuse, Uncle?” Rangi said with the biggest, sweetest, falsest smile Kyoshi had ever seen.

Attendants carried chairs for everyone up the ladder with great difficulty, followed by a table, and then food and drink. Unlike the large manors of legitimate society, there was no servant class here. Junior toughs and swordsmen did the task, their weapons clanking in their scabbards as they juggled trays like rookie maids.

No one let on that they’d already eaten. The meal was an attempt to mimic a wealthy sage’s table, with more than one course. Shaped flour paste substituted for ingredients that would have been impossible to get in the mountains, and yellowing vegetables made up the rest. There was plenty of wine though.

Mok sat with his back facing the edge of the balcony. The fights no longer interested him. Judging by the clash of metal coming from below, the challenges had moved from unarmed combat into the weapons section. The occasional scream and gurgle made it difficult to concentrate.

“Have any of you heard of Te Sihung?” he asked, dropping the endless displays of puffery and dominance. As foolhardy as Rangi’s fight had been, there was no denying she’d changed the energy of the meeting.

Te Sihung. Governor Te. Kyoshi had never seen him in person at the mansion, but the last gifts she remembered him sending to Yun were an original, unabridged copy of Poems of Laghima, and a single precious white dragon seed.

“Governor in the Eastern Provinces,” she said. “Likes to read and drink tea. Certainly isn’t hurting for money.”

“Very good,” Mok said, impressed, even though she could have been describing half of the rich old men in the Earth Kingdom. “Te’s a little unique among prefectural leaders. He’s not so quick with the axe when it comes to sentencing crimes.” He made a hacking motion to the back of his own neck. How lighthearted they were being.

Mok took a sip of wine and smiled when Kyoshi refilled his cup without being told. “He keeps prisoners instead,” he went on. “His family inherited an old mansion dating back to the Thirty-Somethingth Earth King, complete with a courthouse and a jail where criminals could serve out their sentences instead of facing swift modern justice. I believe the romantic notion of mercy went to his head.”

“Sounds nice of him,” Rangi said, a bit insouciantly. Her face had begun to swell, her words slurring as her lip grew puffy. The other members of their company had willingly retreated into the background, letting her and Kyoshi do the talking. They were playing the tiles they’d been dealt.

“Don’t go putting up statues just yet,” Mok said. “He’s had one of our own locked up for eight years.”

Behind him, Wai positively vibrated, his body thrumming with rage. “We need to get our man out of Te’s cells,” Mok said. “That’s what this job is about. A jailbreak on a fortified position is going to take a lot of bodies, more than the Autumn Bloom has sworn members. So we’re calling in our associates. Every favor will be repaid in one night.”

“This prisoner—is he important?” Rangi asked. “Does he have information you don’t want leaking?”

For the first time tonight Mok looked displeased with her. “This mission is about brotherhood,” he said. “First and foremost. My sworn brother has been rotting in the hands of the law for almost a decade. It’s taken that long for the Autumn Bloom to grow strong enough to attempt a rescue mission, but Wai and I have never forgotten him.”

His passion was real, carved into his spirit with deep grooves. He resembled Lek when the boy talked about Kyoshi’s parents. Propped up by an iron framework larger than himself. Kyoshi wondered if she’d appear the same if she ever spoke about Kelsang at length to anyone. She hoped so.

“Apologies, Uncle,” Rangi said. “I thought knowing the facts would be helpful to our cause.”

“The only facts I need you concentrating on concern how your group is going to help spring my man out of Governor Te’s prison,” Mok said.

“Our group?” Kyoshi preemptively tilted in apology for not understanding. “It sounded like we were to band together with the Autumn Bloom in this mission.”

“Originally, yes. But after giving it some thought, that would be a waste of an elite team of benders such as yourselves. A two-pronged assault should double our chances. I have numbers at my disposal but not stealth or bending prowess. While my men beat down the doors in a frontal assault, I want the Flying Opera Company to take the quiet route. Whoever succeeds first, it doesn’t matter to me.”

Rangi was still in professional, intelligence-gathering mode. “Are there plans to Te’s palace? Layouts? Staff schedules? Any inside people we can count on?”

Mok’s face darkened. He kicked the table away, sending dishes clattering to the floor. “What do you think this is, a robbery?” he snapped. “Figure out your approach on your own!”

Kyoshi realized why he was so angry. Rangi’s questions had exposed him as not much of a tactician. He knew nothing of leadership besides making demands and doling out cruelties when they weren’t met.

Control by tantrum, Kyoshi thought. She had a label for the way Mok wielded power.

He stood up and dusted himself off. “I plan on being at Governor Te’s palace thirty days from now with my forces. I know how swift the Flying Opera Company tends to be, so if you arrive early, you should have all the time you need to prepare yourselves. But! I don’t want you acting on your own before we arrive. Do you hear me?”

I hear many things about you. “Of course, Uncle,” Kyoshi said. The clash of steel and a scream filled the air as she bowed.

The five of them stood outside their inn, not knowing what to say to each other. Fresh distance had come between them. Self-consciousness reigned supreme.

Kyoshi broke the silence. “Can we agree to leave this forsaken town first thing in the morning?”

“Yes,” Wong said. “I’m going to drink myself stupid until then. If I run into any of you, I’m going to pretend I don’t know you. Even if you challenge me.” He frowned. “Especially if you challenge me.” Wong stomped off into the darkness, disappearing beyond the glow of the nearest lantern.

Lek hadn’t spoken a word on the way back. His sleeve was plastered to his palm with dried blood, a good sign as far as his wound was concerned. But he was possessed by a rigid coldness that had Kyoshi worried.

“Lek,” she said before he vanished too, inside his own head. “Thank you. For standing up for me.”

He blinked and looked at her, as if they’d only met a minute ago. “Why wouldn’t I?” he said, caught waking up from a dream.

“I have to take care of his hand,” Kirima said. She looked at Rangi. “I’m not the best healer, so it’ll be awhile before I can get to your face.”

“I don’t need it,” Rangi said. She turned and walked away in the opposite direction of Wong, down the slope the town was built on.

“Rangi!” Kyoshi snapped. The Firebender didn’t listen to her. She was Kyoshi’s bodyguard. She was obligated to listen to her. “Get back here! Rangi!”

“After tonight’s display, she’s the safest person in Hujiang,” Kirima said. There was a sly edge to her smile. “But I still think you should go after her.”

Having grown up in Yokoya, Kyoshi had walked enough hills for two lifetimes. Going down fast threatened to buckle her ankles, strained at her knees. She found Rangi sitting at the edge of the shallow lake, less by light and more by heat. The Firebender was a dark silhouette curled up against the lapping water. Kyoshi entertained the notion of shoving her straight in.

“You want to tell me what that was about?” she yelled.

Rangi sneered at the question. “Mok was treating us like dung, and now, slightly less so. I impressed a daofei. Hasn’t that been our goal?”

“My mother’s gang belonged to my mother! Mok is a rabid animal whom we have no leverage with! It was a stupid risk!”

Rangi got to her feet. She’d been letting her toes dangle in the water, and now she stood ankle-deep in it.

“Of course it was!” she said. She nearly rammed her finger into Kyoshi’s chest out of instinct but caught herself. She wrung her hands out and forced them to remain at her side. “I did exactly what you’ve been doing this whole time!

“Let me tell you something,” Rangi said. “I blacked out when I got hit. If I hadn’t woken up quickly, that man would have killed me.”

Kyoshi’s mind went white with fury. After the fight ended, she’d assumed that Rangi had been faking unconsciousness to lure her opponent in. She wanted to march back to the barn and break the rest of his limbs.

“You know what you felt, watching me lie on the canvas?” Rangi said. “That helplessness? That sensation of your anchor being cut loose? That’s what I’ve been feeling, watching you, every single minute since we left Yokoya! I got on that platform so you could see it from my perspective! I had no idea what else would get through to you!”

She kicked at the surface of the lake, slicing a wave between them. For an instant she looked like a Waterbender. “I watch you throw yourself headlong into danger, over and over again, and for what? Some misguided attempt to bring Jianzhu ‘to justice’? Do you know what that even means anymore?”

“It means he’s gone for good,” Kyoshi snapped. “No longer walking this earth. That’s what it has to mean.”

“Why?” Rangi said, her eyes begging and combative at once. “Why do you need to do this so badly?”

“Because then I don’t have to be afraid of him, anymore!” Kyoshi screamed. “I’m scared, all right? I’m scared of him, and I don’t know what else will make it go away!”

Her words carried over the surface of the lake to any man and spirit who might be listening. Kyoshi’s obsession wasn’t the mark of a great hunter on a relentless stalk of her quarry. That was the lie that had sustained her. The truth was that she was a frightened child, running in different directions and hoping it would all work out for the best. She couldn’t feel safe with Jianzhu loose.

She heard it again. Those soft, sharp little breaths. Rangi was crying.

Kyoshi fought back her own tears. They wouldn’t have been as graceful. “Talk to me,” she said. “Please.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Rangi said. She tried to smother herself with the palm of her hand. “It shouldn’t have gone this way.”

Kyoshi understood her friend’s disappointment. The shining new era the world was supposed to get after so many years of strife, the champion whom Rangi had trained to protect, had been stolen from them and replaced with ... with Kyoshi.

“I know,” she said, her heart aching. “Yun would have been a much better—”

“No! Forget Yun, for once! Forget being the Avatar!” Rangi lost the battle to restrain herself and smacked Kyoshi hard across her collar. “It’s not supposed to be this way for you!”

Kyoshi went silent. Mostly because Rangi had hit her too hard, but also from surprise.

“You think you don’t deserve peace and happiness and good things, but you do!” Rangi yelled. “You, Kyoshi! Not the Avatar, but you!”

She closed the distance and wrapped her arms around Kyoshi’s waist. The embrace was a clever way to hide her face.

“Do you have any idea how painful it’s been for me to follow you on this journey where you’re so determined to punish yourself?” she said. “Watching you treat yourself like an empty vessel for revenge, when I’ve known you since you were a servant girl who couldn’t bend a pebble? The Avatar can be reborn. But you can’t, Kyoshi. I don’t want to give you up to the next generation. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

Kyoshi realized she’d had it all wrong. Rangi was a true believer. But her greatest faith had been for her friends, not her assignment. She pulled Rangi in closer. She thought she heard a slight, contented sigh come from the other girl.

“I wish I could give you your due,” Rangi muttered after some time had passed. “The wisest teachers. Armies to defend you. A palace to live in.”

Kyoshi raised an eyebrow. “The Avatar gets a palace?”

“No, but you deserve one.”

“I don’t need it,” Kyoshi said. She smiled into Rangi’s hair, the soft strands caressing her lips. “And I don’t need an army. I have you.”

“Psh,” Rangi scoffed. “A lot of good I’ve been so far. If I were better at my job you would never feel scared. Only loved. Adored by all.”

Kyoshi gently nudged Rangi’s chin upward. She could no more prevent herself from doing this than she could keep from breathing, living, fearing.

“I do feel loved,” she declared.

Rangi’s beautiful face shone in reflection. Kyoshi leaned in and kissed her.

A warm glow mapped Kyoshi’s veins. Eternity distilled in a single brush of skin. She thought she would never be more alive than now.

And then—

The shock of hands pushing her away. Kyoshi snapped out of her trance, aghast.

Rangi had flinched at the contact. Repelled her. Viscerally, reflexively.

Oh no. Oh no.

This couldn’t—not after everything they’d been through—this couldn’t be how it—

Kyoshi shut her eyes until they hurt. She wanted to shrink until she vanished within the cracks of the earth. She wanted to become dust and blow away in the wind.

But the sound of laughter pulled her back. Rangi was coughing, drowning herself with her own tears and mirth. She caught her breath and retook Kyoshi by the hips, turning to the side, offering up the smooth, unblemished skin of her throat.

“That side of my face is busted up, stupid,” she whispered in the darkness. “Kiss me where I’m not hurt.”