Tahki took a breath. He’d never felt nervous speaking before, but when his father stopped a few feet in front of him and folded his arms, Tahki’s tongue felt too large for his mouth.
“I’m surprised to see you up before noon,” his father said. His voice sounded calm and friendly. He’d always been good at hiding his nervousness. It was why he made such a good ambassador.
“I wanted to show you something,” Tahki said. “A surprise.”
His father hesitated and then smiled. “A surprise for me? I wonder what I’ve done to deserve such attention.”
Tahki had an entire speech prepared about great advancements in the north, but he was too excited to remember half of it.
“The temple,” Tahki said. “Don’t take your eyes off it.”
His father glanced at Sornjia, a what is your brother up to glance. He did that a lot, looked to Sornjia for help, because understanding Tahki was apparently too difficult to do on his own. Sornjia only smiled back.
“My eyes are yours,” his father said to Tahki. Though his voice was warm, he watched the temple with cold suspicion, like it might suddenly grow feet and walk away.
Tahki cleared dead shrubs away from a wooden lever he’d installed the night before and put all his weight on the handle. The lever shook and groaned. He could feel the water pressure building and checked to see if his father was watching. He was.
At first, only a few drops fell. And then a few more. And then, in a sudden rush, water poured from the gutters. It streamed down, falling into a shallow ditch that circled around the temple. Tahki released his breath. The waterfalls looked magnificent, surreal. The temple was no longer an eyesore but a beautiful product of innovation.
He faced his father and grinned. His father stood still, an expression of surprise, but not distaste on his face.
“Well?” Tahki said. “Isn’t it amazing? You have to think it’s amazing. And the monks will love it. I know they will.”
His father regarded him the same way he regarded a potential treaty deal, with honest and open respect. For the first time, Tahki felt his father finally understood that he had a skill to offer the world, and to deny him a chance to display his work at the fair would be irresponsible. This was the moment Tahki had worked for. The moment his father would say, “Yes, Tahki. You belong at the fair. I will no longer hold you back.”
His father opened his mouth. “Tahki, this is—”
A loud crack broke the still air. Tahki faced the temple. The pipes on the pillars rattled up and down until a few of them broke loose. They swiveled out to the side like an unhinged door, one part still attached, the other spouting water in every direction. The waterfalls ceased, and a few final drops trickled from the splintered bamboo. The pipes swayed a little, tapping against one another, and then the temple was silent.
Tahki frowned and stepped forward.
“Tahki, no!” Sornjia yelled.
Tahki’s brother grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back. They tumbled onto the sand. Tahki scrambled to his feet just in time to see the temple walls give in. The building didn’t collapse quickly but eased itself into the sand, the way an old person with bad knees wobbles down into a chair. The columns broke apart like brittle bones. The walls crumbled. The tiled roof caved in and buried everything in a heap of red slate.
A cloud of dust blew over them, and after the final rumbles, the air turned silent. Even the animals and children in the markets below went quiet. Tahki’s eyes widened despite the dust. The cloud stung and blurred his vision, but he hardly noticed. He ran up to the fallen temple and stared in disbelief.
This wasn’t happening. His designs had been perfect. He’d done the math. Calculated everything. Checked and rechecked his work. It shouldn’t have collapsed.
“Get away from there,” his father yelled.
Tahki felt himself jerked away again.
His father spun him around, eyes wide. “Are you hurt?”
Tahki glanced back at the rubble.
“Tahki, are you hurt?”
Tahki shook his head.
“What in the name of the gods were you thinking?” His father held him by his shoulders.
“I didn’t mean…,” Tahki said. “I just wanted….” He felt a lump in his throat. He would not be allowed to attend the fair. All his efforts had been for nothing.
His father released a shaky breath. “Up to the palace. Both of you. Now. Tahki, meet me in the dining hall.”
“But the monks—”
“Go. I will talk with them.”
Tahki was tugged along by Sornjia. His mind felt hazy, like someone else inhabited his body while he floated above and watched. Dreams of the fair, of fame and applause, faded from his thoughts. All he could see now was scorched sands and endless walls.
He stumbled up the hill, leaving behind the fallen temple, his father, and his only chance of freedom.
AN HOUR and a half later, his father walked into the dining hall. Tahki knelt on a large red cushion in front of a low table. He didn’t meet his father’s eye. He knew they both dreaded the conversation to come. Neither liked confrontation when it came to family, a rare shared trait.
His father carried two cups of jasmine tea with perfect balance. He set one cup down in front of Tahki and then closed the doors. The windows bounced sunlight across the gold walls and red curtains. Statues of two rearing jade elephants sat on twin pedestals beside the doors. Tahki remembered he and Sornjia would steal the elephants to play with when they were children. He’d broken
