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- Chandra remembered that she hadn’t actually made the delivery to Mrs. Pashiri. The canister of Æther was still on her back. As she turned back to the door guardian, a very bad idea occurred to her.
- “Let’s see what you can do, hands,” she said. With her fingers still aflame, she grabbed the satchel off her back and flung the canister at the rear doors. The canister cracked against the multilegged door guardian and hit the foundry floor, knocking the lid loose. A spurt of Æther hissed from the container.
- Chandra willed all of her fire and fury at the canister; she didn’t have time to worry about whether it was the right thing to do.
- ***
- “Nobody got hurt.” Chandra felt a heaviness, a sodden blanket of guilt, at the prospect that someone might have been hurt because of her. Her shoulders fell. A lump welled up in her throat. “I mean, there was—I caused—damage. At the Foundry.”
- “The Consuls’ Foundry?”
- “Mrs. Pashiri helped me get in. But I had to get through the door, and I may have destroyed it.”
- “Destroyed the door?”
- “Destroyed the Foundry.”
- ***
- CHANDRA’S ORIGIN: FIRE LOGIC
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