I was told I had too much fire in me. Padma insisted that fire was good, for it brought vivacity and passion; Nichi argued that it brought only destruction, and to prove it, gestured outside, where foreign soldiers stalked and spoke with harsh tongues, indeed destroying our resolve.

"Fire is dangerous," Nichi said with a round oval tongue. "If we have too much the bread will burn."

"The bread will burn anyway because you do not watch it," Padma slyly replied.

I sat in between them, a tender girl of eight, eager to speak my mind but not knowing what exactly was in it.

"What is fire good for, anyway? Send her out."

"No! Fire is enchanting. It will attract many customers."

At that Nichi looked down upon me, appraising me with an incriminating eye. "Enchanting maybe to dumb moths."

"Dumb moths will pay double," her sister rejoined. "We need some help in this place. Who cares what she is?"

Nichi sighed. "Fine. But only until we find someone pretty and safe."

Padma smiled upon me, her wrinkled eyes crinkling further, until her long lashes diminished them. "Hear that, little girl? You've got yourself a job."

She showed me to the room upstairs where I would sleep among the crates and boxes and elephant rats. She gave me new clothes and bid me change, and with that she shut the door.

Turning to the window, I inhaled the warm, dry sunlight and held up my palm. A small flame burst from my fingers.

It was a pleasure to burn.