Zhirin descended the steps to the canal, stones cool and slick beneath her feet. Water soaked her trousers as she knelt and laid a palm on the surface. One breath, then another, and her heart began to slow as the river’s rhythm filled her, deep and inexorable. She raised her hand, scattering ripples.
And the lapping water showed her colors, red and gray, gold and orange, dancing and twisting against the black. It took her a heartbeat to make sense of the distorted reflection.
Fire.
“Something’s burning,” she said as she rose, scrubbing her wet hand on her trousers.
“Ancestors,” her mother whispered. “Not the docks.”
The Laiis had been a southern clan once, tenders of marshy rice fields. But these days their money came from the sea, from swift trading ships and goods piled in dockside warehouses.
“I’m going to see what’s happened,” Zhirin said.
“No—”
“I’ll be careful, Mira.” She darted up the steps to kiss her mother’s cheek. Before Fei Minh could protest more, she unmoored the household skiff and pushed off.
She whispered to the river and soon the current caught her, swifter and more graceful than she could have rowed. But even with the water’s help, she didn’t want to risk the skiff dockside. She moored at the far edge of Jadewater and ran the rest of the way.
Her side ached by the time she reached Merrowgate’s warehouse district and her breath ripped her chest like gravel and broken shells. Her feet throbbed, likely bleeding, and she chided herself for not putting on shoes. A sullen orange glow lined the rooftops, and bells and voices rang loud and raucous.
The crowd led her to the fire, and she skirted the edges till she could see. The street was mud-slick and cold despite the waves of heat. Rats and insects scurried for safety; Zhirin shuddered as a finger-long cockroach crawled over her foot. City guards surrounded the building, passing buckets down a line.
It wasn’t enough. A canal ran behind the building, and a wide street in front, but only alleys separated it from its neighbors, narrow enough that even she could have jumped them. The wind off the bay was gentle, but enough to blow flames onto the next rooftop; already it had begun to smoke.
The whole district could be gone by morning.
The bucket lines moved faster, water glowing gold as it splashed the cobbles. Zhirin wanted to join them, but it was no use. She couldn’t call a flood. Not even the Mother’s temple could, since the river had been dammed. For all her tricks, she was useless against this.
Gongs echoed from the waterfront, warning ships to lift anchor before the docks caught. That would take a while, at least, unless the wind shifted.
Another section of roof collapsed with a groan and roar and a flurry of sparks rode the wind like orange fireflies. Someone screamed as flames burst through the gap. Mirrors dangling from nearby roofs threw back the firelight in angry flashes.
A moment later she realized what the burning building had been. A government warehouse. She pressed a hand over her mouth and swallowed the taste of char. Jabbor—
She should run home, warn her mother since she was no use here, but she could only stare. Guards appeared on the neighboring warehouse’s roof, splashing wood and plaster and tiles in a futile bid to keep the flames at bay. A shout rose from the back of the crowd, and she scrambled to keep out of the press as the mass of people parted to admit a man.
His face was a mask of flame and shadow, but Zhirin recognized the curve of his bare head. Her stomach tightened. She’d thought Asheris was sleeping at the Kurun Tam tonight; his rumpled clothes looked as though he’d only just woken. But he was here. He waved the guards away and kept walking, so close his skin must be crisping. If the building fell now it would crush him.
Pain spread down Zhirin’s arm; she’d bitten her knuckle hard enough to break the skin.
Asheris extended a hand toward the fire, palm up. Flames flickered toward him, though the wind didn’t change. Fire lapped his fingers like a curious hound, then twisted up his arm in a glowing spiral.
Her vision blurred, tears welling against the smoke, and she watched through a crystalline glaze as Asheris called the fire into him. The blaze died in the warehouse as the flames ran like water away from wood and stone and into flesh. The last came in