With defensive concerns taken care of, the palace complex itself focused on grandeur over any other priority. A central spire pointed to the sky, flanked by two golden pagodas with an excess of upturned eaves, making it appear as if the roofs were adorned with animal claws. It looked more like a great shrine than a residence. The steep angles of the structure would have made it difficult to sneak in from above.
Kyoshi mentally slapped herself once she realized she was casing the home of the Fire Lord. The old habits of the Flying Opera Company were sprouting from her head like dormant seeds after a fresh rain.
“Do you know where we’re supposed to touch down?” Jinpa said, interrupting her reverie. “I’m a little wary of flying over the wall. I’m guessing that families who own mounted cross-bows tend not to like that sort of thing.”
“The main gate, but not too close.” As a former servant Kyoshi knew that the higher classes liked their visitors to enter their residences in just the right manner, to be awed and cowed by a well-designed display of culture and power. And the ruling family of the Fire Nation was the highest class it got.
Yingyong settled on the avenue that bisected the stone ring. They dismounted to walk the rest of the way to the gatehouse. On the ground, the bison had a bouncing gait from his single foreleg that made it hard for riders to stay in the saddle. Luggage would get thrown off his shoulders if it wasn’t securely tied down.
They came to the heavily barred, unbendable iron gate. There were no slats, viewholes, or other means to show themselves. Kyoshi wondered if she was supposed to knock before a grinding metal noise broke the awkward silence. Somewhere inside, the gears of heavy machinery bit into each other, groaning with friction. The gate moved, not outward or inward, but straight up.
A girl stood on the other side, revealed by inches, as if she were too much person, too much force for any one mortal to handle all at once. Sometimes Kyoshi believed that. In her mind, the grand scape of Caldera City and the royal palace was nothing compared to the splendor being unveiled right now.
The gate finished its agonizing journey with a heavy metallic slam. The archway inside was lit with torches, none of which shone as bright as the pair of bronze eyes that flickered over Kyoshi from head to toe. Other than wearing the armor of a higher-ranking officer that had fewer spikes and overhanging flaps and more gold trim, Rangi looked the same. Her ink-black hair had grown back to its usual length. Her posture was as stiff and unyielding as Kyoshi remembered.
And she still wrapped herself in the same air of unquestionable superiority. To be in Rangi’s presence was to not meet her standards. A mere few seconds of silence were enough to make Kyoshi tremble.
Her worst fears pushed their way to the forefront. Enough time had passed that Rangi might have changed into Kyoshi’s former. Former teacher, former bodyguard, former . . . everything.
The stillness of the moment was broken by a strange noise that Kyoshi had heard only once before. Rangi laughing and choking at the same time.
The Firebender slumped over, leaning her hand against the nearest wall, and gasped for breath like she’d been holding it since the gate cracked open. “I had to sprint over here . . . all the way across the grounds . . . so I could look impressive greeting you,” she wheezed. “I must be out of shape.”
The bands snapped from around Kyoshi’s heart, giving it room to beat once more. “Is that how you’ve been doing it?” The whole time they’d known each other, Rangi would often be waiting for her, ridiculously early, or she’d suddenly and dramatically appear out of nowhere at the last minute. Knowing she’d simply been running at top speed from place to place hurt the mystique a little.
Rangi grinned and nodded as she caught her breath. “At least I don’t have to worry about other Fire Nationals seeing me right now. The only blind spot in the defenses is right here, directly under the gate itself. Which means I can do this.”
She reached up and yanked Kyoshi inside the wall, right into a searing kiss.
CULTURAL DIPLOMACY
Kyoshi forgot what she was supposed to be doing. Where she was. Which way was up. Memories faded before the warmth of Rangi’s lips. The two of them melded into each other, alloyed.
And then, in a supreme display of cruelty as far as Kyoshi was concerned, Rangi broke it off and took a step back. “Welcome to the Fire Nation, Avatar,” she said, professional once more. She smoothed a strand of hair that had fallen out of place but otherwise acted like she hadn’t just robbed Kyoshi of her wits using nothing but her mouth.
The Avatar was still reeling, too dazed to respond. “Mistress Rangi,” Jinpa said, stepping deftly around her to greet their host. He bowed, palms pressed together in the Air Nomad way. “It’s good to finally meet you in person.”
Kyoshi flushed in spite of herself. Jinpa knew who Rangi was, but she didn’t necessarily want her secretary witnessing her private moments. Day one of Kyoshi’s first visit to the Fire Nation, she could imagine him documenting for posterity. The Avatar inappropriately kisses the love of her life while standing in the threshold of the most fortified place in the world.
“Brother Jinpa,” Rangi said with a friendliness she rarely showed anyone. “I am honored by your presence. You can leave your bison by the gate while the two of you follow me. Our stable masters are trained in the care of mounts from every nation.” She leaned in and gave him a wink. “I let them know that I’d make them suffer immensely if they mishandled your companion.”
Jinpa laughed until a look from Kyoshi told him that Rangi wasn’t kidding. His chuckle died in his throat. He went back and loosened Yingyong’s reins. “Be a good boy and stay here,” Kyoshi heard him whisper in the bison’s ear, to which the animal made a plaintive rumble. “Yes, I know she’s scary. I’ll be fine.”
Once Yingyong was settled, Kyoshi, Rangi, and Jinpa walked down the tunnel. It had been designed to kill people. Small holes pricked through the iron plates that coated the passageway, apertures designed to let arrows or fire blasts through. The floor was solid but hollow, implying a sudden drop if the defenders pulled a lever.
A single cough echoed through the hall before being forcibly swallowed. It hadn’t come from them. If each firing hole had a soldier behind it, then a whole troop was watching them go by.
Kyoshi glanced nervously around the iron gullet until they emerged on the other side of the wall into a paved plaza that ran through the garden. The stark nature of the greenery stripped it of any calming effect. A single minister waited for them, wearing the red-and-black silks of a civilian authority and the unhappy expression of a tightly wound fussbudget.
“Avatar Kyoshi,” he said. His deep bow made his lengthy gray mustache droop off his face. “I am Chancellor Dairin, Head Palace Historian. On behalf of Fire Lord Zoryu, I extend our country’s greetings.”
“The honor is mine, Chancellor,” Kyoshi said. “Where is the Fire Lord? His message indicated that we have important matters to discuss.”
Dairin’s face pickled further. “He is . . . indisposed at the moment. You will see Fire Lord Zoryu tonight.”
This was a brusquer greeting than Kyoshi was expecting.
Though to be fair, she had no business criticizing anyone for their lack of diplomacy.