Fic Post - Listen to the Earth - Book Two: Chapters 1-5/13

[damkianna]

Title: Listen to the Earth - Book Two
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Rating: Somewhere between PG and PG-13.
Characters/Pairing: Hints of Sokka/Suki if you're looking for them. Katara-focused overall. Includes some original characters.
Content Notes/Warnings: Mild amounts of violence in a few places; nothing very graphic. Some spoilers, in a very general sense, but this story is quite AU. I doubt there's anything in it that will ruin the events of the show for anyone.
Summary: "Prince Zuko," Yin said, and bowed without awkwardness. Book Two, Avatar!Katara AU. Sequel to Imagine the Ocean (Fic Master Post @ DW | Fic @ AO3).
Disclaimer: Places and people you recognize from canon are not mine.
Acknowledgements: More thanks than I can possibly express to my sister, idriya, who is, as always, my cheerleader and my beta. I began this series thanks to the ladiesbigbang challenge, and everyone who helped make it happen. Also, a giant hug to every single person who read Book One; you have filled my life with yay, and I heart you all.

Other Notes: I have done my absolute best with the Chinese text that appears in Chapter One, but it has been a very long time since my Mandarin classes: please, please, feel absolutely free to tell me if something is off or wrong or bad or stupid. I used traditional characters because I am given to understand that most of the writing in Avatar does the same.

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Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

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Chapter One: General Fong

"Prince Zuko," Yin said, and bowed without awkwardness - not, perhaps, as low as she might have if Zuko had been standing in the throne room in Da Su-Lien, but certainly lower than necessary given his status now. The man who had followed her off the boat did the same. "General Iroh," she added, and bowed even lower.

"What do you want?" Zuko snapped, before Iroh could even open his mouth to reply.

Rude; but Yin did not look upset. Then again, Mizan thought, the woman was used to handling Zhao - next to that, Zuko's abruptness probably sounded perfectly reasonable.

"Nothing," Yin said, "if you do not wish it. Zhao is gone-"

"And we were there when he went - something you might do well to remember," Zuko said.

Yin looked at him consideringly for a moment, and then dipped her head. "Very true," she said, glancing at Iroh. "The word of the Dragon of the West would not be disregarded by my superiors - but I do not intend that you should feel the need to barter it. Zhao is gone; his quarrel with you had no cause discernable to anyone but him, I think. It is my duty to keep you from Fire Nation territory, but aside from that, I do not wish you ill. The seas we must cross to reach the south again are wide and dangerous, sailed by pirates and enemy fleets. I cannot think our company would go amiss."

Mizan stared, and then shook her head a little; perhaps something in her ears had been knocked askew by the wave. "Apologies, Lieutenant-"

"Sub-Admiral," the man beside Yin corrected, tone polite.

"Sub-Admiral," Mizan amended. "You are offering to escort us? Are you hoping to have all your sailors executed?"

"To escort you back to Port Tsao," Yin said, "not through the Gates of Azulon. I realize even that may qualify as lawbreaking to the truly zealous - but, you may recall, when we first commandeered this ship, the target of the law in question appeared to be dead."

"You propose that my nephew remain dead until we reach the port again," General Iroh said, and Mizan could tell that he was smiling, just a little.

"Essentially, yes," Yin agreed, and turned to Zuko, bowing slightly. "It is possible that I will have to discover you, and publically express my horror at your presence; I hope it is not too much to ask that you add stowing away in a Navy ship to your official list of crimes."

"I am already punished," Zuko said, grim, and Mizan fought the urge to roll her eyes. "It won't make anything worse."

"Excellent," Yin said.

***

The room was long and wide, dim except for the wall of flames that burned day and night before the throne, and the carpet was narrow; it made for a distinctly intimidating walk, if you weren't used to it.

"Ah, my daughter; there you are," Father said, and Azula fancied that somewhere behind the flames, he was smiling.

"As you requested," she said, bowing low, and then sat up straight. She knelt, as all who attended the Fire Lord must, but she was not subservient.

"I have a task for you," Father said, and Azula's heart leapt. It had been very dull the past few months, since that last uprising to the east; she had been beginning to think Father was angry with her. "I have received word from the colonies, rumors - it seems your brother has been causing trouble."

Azula suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She had thought Zuko could surely sink no lower. "Has he ever done anything else?"

"Your uncle is still with him, too - unfortunate, but it seems Iroh will not veer from the path he has chosen." For a moment, Father's frustration was audible - and it should be, Azula thought, considering how often his family had failed him. She alone had not; and would not, no matter what he asked of her. "Tell me, Azula," he said. "Would you hesitate to kill them?"

She blinked, staring at the dark shape of Father behind the flames, and then laughed. "You already know the answer to that question," she said, grinning.

"I do," Father admitted, and his tone was rich with satisfaction. "You will go to the colonies, and track them down. Take a few battalions with you - as many as you need."

He was feeling flexible - in a mood to listen. "Perhaps battalions are not the answer, Father," Azula said, "if you want it to be done quickly."

"You would fail, with battalions?" Father said.

Azula considered her words carefully. "I would succeed less excellently."

There was a long still moment; and then Father laughed. "Very well. I suppose you have a plan of your own, then?"

"A team - small, fast, and highly skilled," Azula said. "And I know exactly where to find the people for it."

***

"Perfect," Yue said, and grinned.

Katara let her shoulders drop, and smiled, sending the water curling back into her bending pouch. "Really? Because I felt like maybe-"

"Duck," Yue interrupted, already dropping down herself, and Katara slid to her knees on the ice a second before an icicle the size of her arm flew over her head and splintered against the far wall.

"... I didn't mean for that to happen," Miktakit said, sheepish, arms still extended.

Katara and Yue had practiced alone for only two more days, after the battle. The third day, when they had climbed up to the room in the morning, Kilurak had been waiting for them, and two girls had been beside him, both looking a little nervous.

Yue had put them at ease in minutes; and now, almost two weeks after the battle, they had been joined by five more girls, and three of their mothers. Katara might have worried about losing her teacher, but she could feel herself improving steadily; maybe being the ocean actually had helped a little. Now she mostly needed repetition, to give herself a chance to feel out how energy would follow the contours of a move - not something Yue really needed to watch her do, although she still corrected Katara's posture sometimes.

So Yue was free to help the others, more often than not. "Impressive speed," she told Miktakit, laughing, and then touched Katara's shoulder. "Maybe run through the sequence a few more times - the better you know it, the more confident you will feel." She clapped her hands together. "Now, Miktakit: show me what you did again, but not so fast this time."

*

Katara might have been improving, but it was still tiring work; and she tumbled into sleep almost the moment she lay down on her mat.

It had been that way for days, rambling thoughts sliding into darkness almost immediately, so she was startled for a second when she ended up in a faint grey fog this time.

"Oh, one of these again," Aang said beside her, and they shared a grin while they waited for the fog to clear a little.

It took longer than it had that first time, mist eddying uncertainly like it wasn't sure quite where to go. But at last Katara caught a dark shape, something other than grey - dark red, she thought, as it came nearer. Roku.

"Indeed, Avatar," Roku said, and smiled faintly; but the expression looked pinched and strained.

"Is there something wrong?" Katara said.

"It is - not easy for me to be here," Roku said. "When we first came to you, you had been in the Avatar State only hours before; you were - close to us, as such things are reckoned in the spirit world. The temple was Aang's home, when he came to you, and he travels with you now. But the far north gives me no strength; it is a wonder I have found you at all." He paused a moment, looking grave. "There are things you must know, if you are to bring balance to what is. There will not be time, here; but if you come to me at midwinter, when it would be the solstice here, we may speak freely of what is to come."

"Come to you?" Katara said, and glanced at Aang; he shrugged, looking just as baffled as she felt. "How?"

Roku lifted his hands, catching a little mist between them and cupping it in his fingers for a moment. He closed his eyes, concentrating; and between his palms it formed a shape. A picture - a coastline, rocky and uneven at the shore, and beyond it stood a vast tower, red-walled and imposing. "A Fire Nation Avatar temple," he said. "There are quite a few; this one stands in the south of the colonies, on the shores of the kingdom of Lannang. There are sages there who will help you. I will be there on the solstice, at sunset. Will you also, Avatar?"

Katara tried to memorize the look of the wavering mist-picture, and hoped their colony map would have the place marked. "I will," she said; and then Roku faded back like ink in water, and Katara dreamed of chasing penguin seals until the sun came up.

*

She remembered everything when she woke as clearly as if Roku had been standing in front of her, the same way she remembered the first one; and she rolled on her side to find Sokka staring at her from the next mat over, eyes narrowed, and Suki already sitting up, watching her with eyebrows raised.

"What?" she said.

"You're about to tell us something wacky," Sokka predicted.

Katara sighed and sat up, rubbing her face. "How'd you know?"

"You've got that look," he said. "That Avatar-level weirdness look. Like you're trying to figure out how you're going to make whatever you say next sound normal."

"You kind of do," Aang said, hovering over Sokka's head and eyeing her critically. "Something about the eyebrows."

Katara stuck her tongue out at him.

"The dead guy totally agreed with me, didn't he?" Sokka said.

"I couldn't say," Katara told him, prim, and then gave in. "I had another dream - but I think Yue's going to need to hear this one, too."

***

It was a beautiful morning, sunlight glimmering gold over the ice and making the wall shine. The sun was barely a finger's width from the sea; soon, Yue thought, it wouldn't rise at all, not for weeks. She would have sat down to watch it, but sprawling over the palace steps like a child seemed a little undignified. So she was standing at the top of the stairs, looking out over the city, when Katara cleared her throat and touched Yue's arm.

"I'm sorry," Yue said, smiling even before she turned around, "I should be upstairs already, I just-" and then she caught sight of Katara's solemn expression, and went quiet.

"It's not that," Katara said. "There's something I need to tell you."

Katara explained the dream she had had, and Yue could not have timed it better: almost the moment she finished, Mother and Father came down the hall.

"I know I'm not quite a master yet," Katara was saying, "but I'm getting close, and he was so specific - I have to be there by the solstice, there's no way around it. I - I could come back-"

"Why should you?" Yue said. "We are safe, here; there will not be another fleet, not so soon after the last. The Earth Kingdoms bear the brunt of the war - and you would have to go soon anyway, to find someone to teach you Earthbending."

Katara looked uncertain. "I suppose that's true," she said slowly.

"Exactly - it would be foolish. No," Yue said, "it's best this way." She smiled. "I will go with you." Just loud enough: Mother and Father had paused in the corridor to speak to someone, but Yue saw Mother's head turn.

Katara blinked. "You'll go with us?"

"Go where?" Mother said, stopping a few feet behind Katara.

"The Earth Kingdoms," Yue said. "The Avatar has had a dream, Mother; she must go there. I agreed to teach her everything - I didn't say she had to stay in Kanjusuk to learn it."

Mother and Father exchanged a sober look, and Yue braced herself for an argument; but Father only sighed. "I said you were an adult," he said, "and it was the truth. I cannot keep you here when your duty takes you elsewhere."

She wasn't so adult that she wouldn't throw her arms around his neck and whisper, "Thank you," in his ear. And he squeezed her very tight; but when it was done, he let her go.

***

It would be another day or two before the Avatar left with Yue - preparations had to be made, and, of course, there would be a farewell feast. Neither the Avatar nor the chief's daughter could expect to leave without one, and certainly not when they were traveling together.

It worried Ukalah; of course it did. The thought of her daughter wandering the south in the middle of the war, alongside the one person the Fire Nation wanted more than any other, made her feel like she needed to sit still and breathe quietly for a very long time.

But she was the chief's wife - she could not sit still for five minutes, let alone a very long time. And it pleased her, too: her daughter was the Avatar's teacher, and had as good as bested Master Pakku.

Ukalah grinned over the bowls she was laying out, thinking of the look on Master Pakku's face when he had heard the news. He had been caught somewhere between a frown and a smile, clearly annoyed that Yue would continue to undertake so prestigious a task where the rest of the world could see her, and yet, Ukalah suspected, glad that she would be gone. Probably, he hoped she would take her ideas with her, and he would no longer have to watch women defile the noble bending arts in their spare time.

Ukalah chuckled.

"The dishware entertains you immensely today," Yugoda said wryly, spreading out another mat. There would be a healing class, soon; the mats were for the girls to kneel on, and the bowls to hold their bending water.

Ukalah laughed, setting down another bowl. "Not the dishware," she said, "just - life."

"Just life, hmm?" Yugoda said, and then turned at a sudden blast of cold air; the tent flap had opened.

It was Kilurak - Miktakit's brother, a pleasant boy. He had volunteered to help with the assassination, during the battle; and he had been in the Spirit Oasis when Katara had saved them all. He was biting his lip, cheeks faintly flushed, but he was standing up straight.

"Does someone need me?" Yugoda said.

"No," he said, "no, I just-"

Yugoda sat back on her heels, and smiled. "You want to stay for the class," she guessed.

"Yes," he admitted, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "Miktakit and I, we've shown each other some things, but she's got Yue. I mean, not that Yue couldn't teach me," he added quickly, "I know she was your student; but she has to teach the Avatar how to fight, not how to heal."

"Pick a seat," Yugoda said. "But not right there - Nimikah always takes the next seat, and she splashes a lot."

"Thank you," Kilurak said, relieved and grinning, and caught the bowl Ukalah tossed to him.

***

Katara was still full the morning they left, hours after the evening feast; the tiger seals might be smaller in the north, but they apparently had polar leopards - huge ones.

They'd picked a good day: the sea was calm, and the sun would probably make it above the horizon by noon. Chief Arnook had prepared a boat for them, larger and deeper than the usual flat-bellied skiffs, and an embarrassing crowd gathered to see them off.

Chief Arnook and his wife were at the front, of course, and before they boarded they were each given a gift.

"For you," Arnook said to Suki, and motioned behind him; Hahn came forward, and, startlingly, there was only a little resentment on his face.

"I made them myself," he said, and drew a pair of bone knives from his belt, one with each hand. "I know you've got those fans, but - well. You beat me. You should have them."

Suki was more gracious than Katara might have been. "They look very sharp," she said, and took them when he turned the hilts toward her. "I'll take good care of them."

"Well," Hahn said, awkward. "Good." He and Yue looked at each other for a long moment, but he said nothing.

Sokka was next: Tuteguk came forward to give him a sword, taken from a Fire Nation soldier and modified. "I think it will serve you well," he said, "for you pursue nobler aims than its former master."

Arnook had a pike with him; many Northern men carried theirs on a regular basis, and Katara had thought nothing of it until he turned it and swung it toward Yue. From the haft, near the blade, swung a small medallion, very like the ornaments Yue wore in her hair. "For you, my daughter," he said. "I know you are not trained in its use; but you are a warrior of the Northern Tribe, and you should have a pike of your own."

She took it from him carefully, and she might not have known how to attack anybody with it, but she clearly knew how to hold it. "Thank you, Father," she said quietly, and lifted it up until she could lean it against her shoulder, hand balancing against the weight of the blade.

"And for the Avatar," said Ukalah, and held out a small container - a jar, almost, except that it came to a point at the bottom, and the handle of the stopper was carved into the shape of a crescent moon. "Sacred water, from the Spirit Oasis. It is touched with great power, should you have need."

"Thank you," Katara said, and took it. There was a thin cord for it to hang by, and she climbed into the boat and tied it carefully to one strap of her pack, near the top; she didn't want to risk accidentally setting everything she was carrying on something so precious.

Like someone stepping onto the boat had been some kind of cue, everyone else moved for it at the same time. Katara moved up into the bow, to leave more space, and Yue lingered a moment to give her mother one last hug; so they were at opposite ends when everything was settled. It was like they'd planned it: they looked at each other and lifted their arms at the same time to move the water beneath them, and the boat skimmed away toward the wall and the open sea beyond.

***

Their days on the water started out short and dim - the second day out from Kanjusuk, the sun barely peeked over the horizon. But that changed more and more, the further south they got; and even though it was nearing midwinter, by the time they began to round Gungduan it felt like spring to Suki, just because the days were so much longer.

There was enough space in the boat for Yue to practice with her pike, as long as the rest of them stayed out of the way. She handled it both inexpertly and confidently; she'd seen pikes used so often that she did know what to do with it, but her hands and arms weren't used to actually doing it. By the end of the first week, the deck was pitted with scratches where the blade had struck when Yue lost her grip.

"It was such a thoughtful gift," she told Suki once, rubbing a cramp out of her hand and eyeing the pike dolefully. "And it is such a fine blade - I should never have been allowed to touch it."

"Oh, stop," Suki said, and caught Yue's palm, tipping it until she could dig her own thumb into the stubborn knot of muscle. "It was meant to be used. You heard your father; he wasn't expecting you to take it just so you could tuck it away somewhere where it would never get a scratch on it."

"Yeah," Sokka chimed in. "He said you were a warrior and he gave you a weapon. He was practically asking you to learn to beat things up. I mean, maybe he didn't have the deck of the boat in mind, but-"

"You're helping less than you think you are," Suki said, and swatted him on the arm with her free hand.

Sokka had a little less trouble with the sword, because he'd used clubs and spears and fans before. Not that they were the same thing, of course, but he had a pretty good idea how to hold the sword, and how to lunge and slice and stab. Sometimes he did do the wrong things with his wrists; "I keep expecting it to open," he said mournfully.

And, of course, Katara was still practicing her bending with Yue. When Yue was worn out from swinging her pike, she'd sit in the bow, and Katara would stand amidships and run through sequences with a globe of seawater. There were still some mishaps occasionally - the day she first tried something that Yue called "octopus form", they all got completely soaked. But the days she took the Waterbending scroll out, she looked at it like a well-learned favorite book, not something so far beyond her that she was running to catch up.

They came down through the strait between the northern islands of the Air Nomads and the shores of Gungsao Kingdom, and followed the curve of the kingdom's coast south. As close to Fire Nation waters as they were, it seemed best to stick close, and the mountains of Gungsao were a constant low line on the eastern horizon.

They had packed lightly - there had not been much time to prepare, with the hurry they were in. But the skies were clear, and the distance went quickly with two Waterbenders on board; when they were halfway there, Katara decided they could stop to round out their supplies without setting themselves back too far.

At the tip of the peninsula, before the coast curved north again, their maps marked a city called Changmei. Katara's map had a vague blotch without a name, and their Fire Nation map had a sullen brown mark and a vaguely resentful label: "北國的首都", and only below that, in tiny characters, "昌梅" (1). According to the map legend, the brown color meant the city had changed hands several times.

"Well, no wonder," Sokka said, "look at it, it's like two inches away from the Fire Nation."

"You do realize it's not two actual inches," Katara said, very dry; but she was frowning faintly as she looked down at it.

"It's only been two months since we bought this," Suki said. "I'm sure it hasn't been captured again already."

*

It hadn't, as it turned out; but not for lack of trying. There was a wall around the city harbor, with a line of Earthbenders stationed along the top, and the rock was scorched black in huge swathes where Fire Nation catapults had struck it.

There were towers built into the wall, evenly spaced along its length - and shafts that extended into the wall below them, which they realized when a rectangular section of one suddenly swung out with a thunk.

There was a man standing inside, on top of a short pillar of rock. He had obviously used it to lower himself down the shaft; the same way Katara had used that tower of ice to lift them all up to the prison ship in Lingsao, but in reverse. "Who are you?" he snapped. "Why do you seek to enter Changmei?"

Katara and Yue both looked a little taken aback, and Sokka was starting to scowl; so Suki took it upon herself to say, "The Avatar, and her traveling companions."

"The Avatar?" the man said, and laughed, sharp and unamused. "Mm, yes, like an epic tale from legend: the Avatar will come with three children, in a little wooden boat."

At that, Yue took a step forward, chin high. "Whether you believe us or not," she said, "we are clearly travelers, not a Fire Nation battleship. If we cannot resupply here, then at least tell us another nearby port."

The man glared at her; but Yue stared back, unbending, and finally he shook his head. "Very well," he said. "If one of you is the Avatar, General Fong would not deal kindly with me for sending you away. I will send the orders back; when you dock, they will take you to the citadel."

He held out a fist, and then pulled it sharply toward himself, and the wall closed over him again. There was a rumble of shifting rock that seemed to go on forever, and then a tiny figure appeared atop the wall; and a moment later, the stone in front of them parted, leaving a tunnel through the wall just wide enough for their boat to pass through.

***

"The Avatar?" General Fong said, leaning forward. "Are you sure?"

They glanced at one another. "... Fairly, yeah," Sokka said. "Um, not to be rude, but if you're a general-"

"-what am I doing on the throne," General Fong filled in, and smiled.

It wasn't an especially reassuring smile; in fact, it kind of gave Sokka the creeps. General Fong as a whole kind of gave Sokka the creeps.

The citadel was nice - imposing, maybe even a little intimidating, but that was the whole point. Shiny stone floors, immense iron-shuttered windows, delicate screens covered in paintings of people dying horribly: what was there not to like? General Fong had greeted them very politely, and hadn't tried to kill them yet, which put him head and shoulders above a lot of the people Sokka and Katara had met on this trip.

But the second somebody had said the word "Avatar", something indefinable about his expression had turned strange and focused. It was the kind of look Sokka would expect hunting tiger seals to wear, if hunting tiger seals had looks.

In conclusion: creepy.

"You must understand," General Fong said, "our position is very delicate. We had no hand in the declaration of this war, but the Fire Nation stands at our doorstep; while Ba Chang sits undisturbed, the walls of Ba Sing Se unbreached, we hear the echoes of war drums in our sleep." He glanced at Katara, and then at Sokka; they were both wearing their Water Tribe clothes, had been ever since they had reached Kanjusuk. "While our neighbors to the east have been fortunate enough to receive some aid-"

Sokka swallowed. We fought the Fire Nation away from the walls of Shengtian, Bato had said; but Sokka couldn't remember any mention of Changmei.

"-we have not been so lucky." General Fong spread his hands, as though he really thought it was simply a whim of the universe; but his eyes were lingering on the beads in Katara's hair, the Water Tribe insignia on Yue's medallions. "We stand on the edge of a knife," he said. "This city has been lost to the Fire Nation many times; each time, we have won it back, but it has cost more effort, more lives, more pain. The last time, our king and queen were both lost in battle."

"So you generously took over," Sokka said. He tried to keep his tone neutral, but judging by Suki's glare, he'd let a little skepticism sneak in.

General Fong didn't seem to notice, though; he only smiled again. "No, no - our illustrious rulers were lucky enough to bear a daughter. I merely serve as humble regent for Queen Yuanlin, until she should take the throne herself. The law of Gungsao precluded it until four months ago, when she turned eighteen; she has generously allowed me to temporarily retain the position."

"Despite your strong encouragement to the contrary, I'm sure," Sokka said.

General Fong inclined his head. "Indeed," he said. "But, of course, it is my pleasure to allow the queen as much time as she feels necessary to ready herself for the responsibility." He clapped his hands together. "But enough business. You are welcome to stay here as long as you wish; the palace and grounds are yours to explore. I hope you will find Changmei a pleasant place."

***

Zuko leaned on the rail, and stared out over the water.

He'd been doing that a lot, recently; there weren't many places to go on a ship this size where you could just stand and think, and he had had his fill of belowdecks on the way up.

"Ah, the spirit of the late prince has risen once again to haunt our decks," Mizan said loudly from beside the bridge.

Zuko gritted his teeth. Mizan was enjoying his extended death a little too much.

"I will attempt to avert its supernatural vengeance," Uncle told her gravely, and Zuko made himself keep looking at the ocean instead of glaring when Uncle came up to the rail beside him. "You have been very quiet, Prince Zuko. Although I suppose that is not exceptional behavior in a dead man."

"I could have been," Zuko said after a moment. "That girl, with the white hair; she could have killed me. The Avatar could have killed me, when she was merged with that spirit."

"But they did not," Uncle Iroh said, gently.

Zuko shook his head. "I don't understand. I don't understand them - I don't understand myself. Zhao was right: victory was before him. It would have been a great triumph for the Fire Nation." For Father, he did not say. "But when that woman killed him - when the Avatar saved that other spirit - I felt-" He shook his head again, half-hoping it would knock the rest of the thought from his mind, but the last word spilled out anyway. "Glad." What does that make me?

"You did not like Sub-Admiral Zhao, and he gave you reason," Uncle said. "He was a ruthless man, and a cruel one. Is it so incomprehensible that you should prefer his death to the death of the moon, or to the death of the Avatar and her companions, who have never hurt you?"

"They seek to turn the tide of war against the Fire Nation - to destroy what our family has spent a century trying to build. They are hurting us all." It was true, Zuko knew it; it had been a cornerstone of all his lessons as a child, something every tutor, every book, had reiterated. The Earth Kingdoms and Water Tribes harmed everyone through their resistance - the Air Nomads had destroyed themselves the same way. But somehow the words had still wavered on their way out of his mouth. This, he thought, was the weakness in him that Father had seen so clearly. No wonder Father had chosen to get rid of him.

"Of course," Uncle said, very flat; there was a moment of silence, and then Uncle sighed. "What will you do, then, when we reach Port Tsao and you are returned to life?"

Zuko looked down at his hands, tight on the rail. "I don't know."

***

Yuanlin swung the pike around and then paused, weapon still extended, and let herself grin. The last two times she'd tried that swing, she'd accidentally thumped herself in the ribs, but this time she had managed to keep the haft close against her arm where it was supposed to be.

She turned to look at the target, resting the pike on her shoulder for a moment. It wasn't her pike; it was a practice weapon, the dull wooden blade coated in red dust, and she'd left a thin sweeping line of scarlet on the target, like the first stroke of a piece of calligraphy. It was pleasant to see. This, at least, she could be sure she was good at.

"Wonderful," someone said gently behind her, and she turned.

It was the Water Tribe girl, the one who was not the Avatar. She had introduced herself as Yue - not to Yuanlin personally, but General Fong had sent a servant to her to relay the news of their guests' arrival. According to General Fong, Yue was the crown princess of the far north, as those people reckoned such things. Looking at her, Yuanlin could believe it: she stood with a quiet, thoughtful sort of confidence. Yuanlin tried to quash her envy.

"I did not mean to interrupt," Yue said, sheepish. "I was only looking around; and then I saw you practicing." "I have a pike myself, but." She made a face. "I'm not very good at using it. If it is not too great an imposition, could you do that again, a little more slowly?"

"Of course," Yuanlin said, bowing, and moved the pike back to starting position. She would never have done it any other time, but there was no one here watching her except the girl. "See, you must hold it like this, and keep your thumb here. You will need to control the haft as you swing. If your grip is not good, you may hit the target, but you will also hit yourself."

"You speak from experience?"

Yuanlin grimaced, and let go of the pike with one hand so she could touch her ribs gently. "Very recent experience," she said.

Yue laughed.

"I am not a true expert," Yuanlin admitted. "I have been trained a little; enough to practice, and enough to tell when I am getting better." She let the pike slide back through her hand until the end of the haft rested on the ground. "And when I make mistakes here, I hurt only myself."

She glanced up; she had not meant to be so maudlin, and she intended to apologize, but Yue was smiling at her softly. "You sound like Katara," she said.

Yuanlin blinked, too startled to be polite. "The Avatar?"

Yue nodded. "She worries about everything. I've only known her for a little while, but her brother and her friend have told me. She worries all the time that she'll do the wrong thing."

"It doesn't seem possible." Yuanlin shook her head - not to deny, only to clear it. "She is the Avatar."

"You are the queen," Yue said.

Yuanlin flushed, and lowered her eyes, suddenly awkward. She wished the pike were not in her hand; she could not fold her hands into her sleeves, could not hide behind a proper posture. "General Fong-"

Yue took a quick step forward; when Yuanlin looked up again, her gaze was searching Yuanlin's face, her forehead creased with a tiny frown. "You are the queen," she repeated.

Yuanlin took a breath and cleared her face; she should not have begun such a conversation with a guest. She would never be able to explain properly. Better to consider the matter closed.

But she was too late. "You're very like Katara," Yue said. "Except you have a choice. You can give away your responsibility - but you will be giving it away to General Fong, and surely you must be able to see how his bitterness drives him."

"It drives him to do what is best for the kingdom," Yuanlin tried.

"It drives him to do what he thinks will assuage his anger," Yue said. "You are the queen; but the reason you will be a good queen is not because you were born a crown princess. You'll be a good queen for the same reason Katara will be a good Avatar: because you worry. Because it's so important to you that you not fail to do what is right."

Yuanlin looked at the red-streaked target. "I'm not ready," she confessed; the words were loud in the sudden stillness, and she felt herself flush again. She had never been ready, and ever since her birthday, she had been waiting for someone to point it out - to realize she was not kind enough, not clever enough, not strong enough to rule.

Yue's hand was very gentle on her shoulder. "Katara wasn't either, when she started," Yue said. "She still isn't, sometimes."

Yuanlin looked at her. It seemed so unlikely. Surely the Avatar, of all people, did not doubt her own ability. "General Fong has commanded many armies - it was he who took back this city. Who am I to say I could rule better?"

Yue paused, and then bowed a little. "If I may make a suggestion: I think perhaps you should talk to Katara."

***

General Fong did not precisely hold a feast for them; but there was excellent and abundant food for supper, and they were seated at the high table, right next to Queen Yuanlin. Well, except for Aang - he was hovering in the middle of the table, occasionally dipping his hands through the edges of people's plates.

The general had been telling the truth about the queen: she was only a little older than they were. Her bearing was formal and composed, but there were small hints of trepidation in her face, and she kept her mouth closed even when she smiled.

General Fong was the exact reverse, laughing and talking boisterously. Katara was almost glad she was sitting on the far side of the table from him; he kept slapping the green-robed advisor next to him on the back, and it looked like it must have hurt.

Yuanlin kept darting glances at him, often enough that Katara couldn't help noticing. She was waiting for something, it looked like - and, sure enough, when General Fong leaned forward and away to listen more closely to the man two seats away, Yuanlin set her chopsticks down and spoke. "I hope you are enjoying your stay," she said.

"Oh, yes," Katara said, "it's beautiful."

Yuanlin smiled. "Yes. I think sometimes I can't even tell anymore - it's my home, it has always looked beautiful to me."

Katara snagged another dumpling; they were really excellent. "I'm sure you'll rule it well."

Yuanlin wavered, looking down at her bowl; when she looked back up, the corners of her mouth were still tilted up, but it wasn't a smile anymore, not really. "I - hope so. My mother was a great woman; my parents were both well-loved. I know I will never be able to replace them."

"No, of course not," Katara said quickly. "No one could, I didn't mean-"

Yuanlin stared at her, eyes widening, and then suddenly giggled. "Yue really was serious, wasn't she?" she said.

"Yue?" Katara glanced down the table - Yue was two seats away, past Sokka and Suki. "What did she say about me?"

"That you worried," Yuanlin said. "That you - made mistakes sometimes."

Katara grimaced. "More often than sometimes, I think," she said, poking her dumpling. Her appetite was suddenly less than whetted. "I haven't even been the Avatar for six months, and I've already lied to people and stolen things and-" Say it. Aang was gazing at her, sympathetic, from the middle of a serving platter. "-gotten people killed."

Yuanlin was watching her, eyes gentle, any trace of a smile completely gone. "How do you do it?" she asked quietly.

Katara stared down at the dumpling, biting her lip, and then made herself look up again. "I have to," she said. "There's no one else who can."

"Hey, seriously," Sokka interrupted, elbowing her, "you have got to try one of these things," and by the time Katara had taken one of the rolls he'd proffered and turned back around, General Fong was back in his seat, smiling at her; and Yuanlin was silently sipping her tea, eyes down.

*

Katara went looking for Yuanlin again the next day; but when she reached the entrance hall, General Fong was there instead. "Ah, Avatar," he said, "just the person I was hoping to see."

"Just the person we were hoping not to see," Aang muttered over Katara's shoulder, and Katara had to bite her lip for a moment to keep from smiling.

"General," she said, instead of looking at him or answering; if there were one person in the world whom she didn't want to know about Aang, it was General Fong. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"I hope so," he said. "Tell me, Avatar: how did you find out who you were?"

"I did things I shouldn't have been able to do," Katara said, trying to stay vague. "Being the Avatar is a piece of who I am; and sometimes that piece-"

"-overwhelms," General Fong filled in, eyes alight. "I have seen records of such things - the Avatar State, they call it? Such devastating power, at your very fingertips."

Katara shifted uneasily. "I can't control it," she said, "not yet; I haven't even mastered Waterbending."

"Control?" General Fong laughed. "What is there to control? You have gone into it already, have you not? More than once, by the sound of it."

Katara swallowed; for a moment, there was a rougher cut of stone beneath her feet, and blood seeped into a woman's hair.

"Katara," Aang said hurriedly. "Katara, he can't make you do anything."

It was hard to keep herself from looking at him, but she managed to force her eyes to stay on General Fong, who was gazing back at her intently. "I understand, Avatar," he said. "You bear a grave responsibility; every day you leave the Fire Lord alive is a day when lives are lost that you might have saved. If you were only older, more skilled, more able, so many things would be different. Perhaps your people would not have had to leave to save our neighbor to the east." Perhaps they would not have passed us by - he didn't say it, but the words might as well have been inked on his face. "Perhaps the queen's parents would still be alive."

"No one can blame you for that," Aang cried, swinging around until he was in front of General Fong, Fong's beard just visible through the blue glow of his head. "You told me so; and I told you, and now I'm telling you again. You can't keep doing this to yourself."

It wouldn't look strange to General Fong now, so Katara let herself look at Aang. She couldn't say anything with Fong right there, couldn't explain: she knew he was right, but General Fong had mixed blame with truth. If he really could find a way for her to reach the Avatar State whenever she chose, she could end a century of war in days, instead of months or years. That was her responsibility; she couldn't walk away from a chance like that. "What do you propose?" she said.

*

"Are you insane?" Sokka said. "Please tell me that the dead guy hates this plan as much as I do."

"Oh, I do," Aang snapped.

Katara sighed. "He does," she relayed grudgingly when Aang glared at her. "Look, this is the whole reason we left home. I need to master the elements so that I can use the full power of the Avatar - but what if there's a shortcut?"

"You're talking like Master Pakku," Suki said. "The Avatar's not some separate outside thing you need to get in touch with; you are the Avatar. You already have all the power you need - mastering the elements is how you learn to use it."

Katara forced herself to take a deep breath instead of snapping. "Look, all he's going to do is have some of the palace guards attack me. If nothing happens, then nothing happens. Don't you think it's at least worth a try?"

"Oh, so he's just going to have some trained soldiers hurl giant rocks at your head?" Sokka said. "Never mind, that's totally reasonable."

Katara rolled her eyes. "It'll be in the courtyard," she said, "there's a giant fountain. I'll be fine. He gave me his word; nothing but the soldiers, and only as many attacks at once as I say."

"Well, if you won't change your mind, then I guess we're going, too," Suki said.

Yue nodded. "We're not going to let you do something this stupid alone."

***

"I still think this is incredibly stupid," Sokka muttered.

"Would you like to tell her again?" Suki said. "Maybe the fifth time, it'll work."

Sokka glowered at her; but he didn't really mean it. He wasn't angry - or, he was, but not at Suki. For once, they hadn't actually been in any danger, so of course the best use Katara could find for her time was to have herself systematically attacked by Earthbenders. Why not.

Another of the palace guards punched a giant stone disk at Katara - a stone coin, General Fong had called it, which made it sound prettier than calling it a "giant stone disk with a big square hole in it". Each of the guards had a stack of the things, and they were taking turns hefting them at Katara, who was deflecting them away with gouts of water from the courtyard fountain.

It was incredibly stupid - and a waste of time, too. They'd been doing it for almost ten minutes, and Katara hadn't even floated once, let alone started glowing.

Underneath the sound of water striking rock, there was a shuffly sort of patter; footsteps, Sokka realized, and turned. It was the queen, and she was staring out over the courtyard with a horrified look on her face.

"No need for concern!" General Fong said loudly, before Yuanlin could say anything. "We have the Avatar's permission - we are endeavoring to provoke a greater expression of her power, in the hope that it may be controlled." He watched another two stone coins fly at Katara, another two loops of water flinging them away, and frowned, very slightly; and Sokka felt the faintest little twinge of unease. "We have met no success yet," the general continued, looking back up at Yuanlin; "but then we have not tried everything. Perhaps it is time for a change in strategy."

He said it strangely, with a grating emphasis on the last three words like they meant something special - like a signal, Sokka thought, a second before a guard's armored fist came down on his shoulder. "Hey-"

"Now," General Fong shouted, and another guard came up to Sokka's elbow and shoved him into the courtyard stones.

Literally: he sank under their hands, rock creeping up his legs. The moment he realized it, he sucked in as deep a breath as he could, and when they had forced him into the stone up to his ribs, he could still breathe.

His fans and his sword were both at his waist, locked in rock; so he grabbed at the first guard's shin with his hands, trying to pull the guy off balance. He could hear Suki yelling behind him, and the thump of somebody in armor hitting the ground. Yue had been at the top of the stairs; another Earthbender had grabbed her. She had her pike, and she slammed the haft into his chest so hard that he tumbled backward down the steps; but she was sunk into the rock up to her waist, there was only so much she could do.

Sokka slammed his fist repeatedly into the side of the guy's kneecap, and the third time, something popped, sending the guy stumbling away with a curse. But the guard at his elbow was still there, and he dug a hand into Sokka's hair and pushed him another foot down.

And then he let go, because he needed both hands to shield his face from the grit in the air. The wind, Sokka realized, and twisted his head around as far as it would go.

Sure enough, Katara had lost it. Her eyes were blazing blue, water from the courtyard fountain curling around her, and when she lifted her hands, the stone coins that had struck the ground near her all rose into the air at once.

"Not good," Sokka muttered. It was possible he wouldn't mind if one of those things landed on Fong; but Queen Yuanlin was standing only a little way away, and Yue was trapped in the rock right next to her. If Katara killed one of them by mistake, she was never ever going to forgive herself. "Hey, Aang," he shouted into the wind. "Now would be a great time to become corporeal, buddy!"

***

Zuko leaned against the port-side wall of the bridge. Another full day, which meant they were perhaps a week out from Port Tsao, and he still hadn't decided what to do. He should have known better, he thought grumpily. Talking to Uncle never made anything clearer.

Certainly, it was true that the Avatar had not hurt him personally - granted, her repeated escape from his grasp meant that he could not go home, but that was not her intention.

And if he had captured her earlier, the moon might now be dead. The moon - and the ocean, too. Had Zhao ever said he planned to kill only one? Zuko had never been to the spirit world, not like Uncle, and it was Father's aim to bring balance to all things, to make the world one under his rule. But that dim red moon, that girl screaming behind the bamboo ... Zuko forced himself not to shudder. Perhaps Uncle had been right: that was not the way it should be done.

His place in his father's hall was worth the Avatar; Father had made it so. But would it have been worth the moon? If Zuko had captured her before she was able to heal it, had been restored to his position - was it possible that it would have done more harm than good?

Zuko gritted his teeth and shoved himself away from the wall. These were pointless thoughts, it had not happened that way-

"Sir!" Mizan shouted, and Zuko turned. Even before she could say anything else, he followed the line of her arm: they were passing the southern reaches of the kingdom of Gungsao, close enough to the shore to see the walls of the capital - and the fierce blue-white light that shone behind them.

The Avatar had come south again - within his reach, when he had thought all was lost.

Mizan had jogged closer along the deck, and stopped an armslength away. "I'd strongly advise against chasing her now, sir," she said. "We could use quite a few repairs, and I doubt you'll convince Sub-Admiral Yin that this is a good time to launch an assault on an Earth Kingdom."

"Of course," Zuko said, "of course," and let himself smile. Uncle had been right: unlike Zhao, they would have another chance.

***

The round-cut stones did as she wished; she lifted three and sent them spinning one by one at the soldiers to the side, easy as skipping rocks across a pond.

Another soldier threw a chunk of the broken wall at her, desperate; she caught it and whipped it back at him, and he threw himself to the ground a moment before it struck the courtyard just behind him, shards of stone flying everywhere. She pulled the air beside her into a tight sheet of breeze, and the shrapnel was swept away and did not touch her.

Half a dozen men were trying to flee behind her; she turned in the air and sent flame whirling toward them, and the grass beyond the courtyard gate went up in a blaze of yellow.

Nearly all of them were yelling - the soldiers, the children trapped in the stone, everyone - but she could hear it only faintly over the howling wind. Insignificant, she decided.

The hand on her shoulder, though, was significant. A faint touch, perhaps, but discernably there.

She was not looking with her eyes, so she did not turn; but she pushed the wind away, drew the air near her to a standstill, and her braid thumped down over her shoulders. A hand on her shoulder, her braid on her shoulder - she had shoulders. Somehow she had forgotten that.

"Come back," someone said - she heard it, even though the still air did not move. "Please, Katara, please, you have to come back. Everything will be fine, I promise; you just have to come back."

Katara. That meant something, but she had forgotten that, too. She was herself and not herself, larger somehow than the body the shoulders belonged to; she would have to give that up in order to remember. But, she suspected, she could always get it back.

She closed her eyes, and became small again.

*

"It worked! Katara? Katara! Are you okay?"

Katara opened her eyes. She was standing, which was great, but she knew that because she was looking down at her feet, which she hadn't really been meaning to do. Her head wobbled on the way up, but it made it; and she was greeted by Aang's enormous nervous eyes.

"Was that you?" she said shakily. "How did you do that?"

Aang spread his translucent hands. "I think maybe you're a little bit spirit when you do that?" he said. "I don't really know. But it worked! I mean, it worked, right?"

"It worked," Katara said.

Somebody was shouting, but the words weren't really coming through. Katara shook her head, in case it would help, and managed to make herself massively dizzy; but before she could fall over entirely, there was a shoulder propping her up and an arm around her back.

"Very impressive," Suki said. "Let's never do that again, okay?"

"Okay," Katara said.

***

"Get her out of there," Yuanlin snapped at the nearest cowering guard, and she took the pike from Yue's hands and swung it around until she could lay the blade - not lightly - on General Fong's shoulder.

She had been in the practice arena again, but her strikes had all been halfhearted; she had been thinking over what Katara had told her all night. She could not say, as Katara could, that she was the only one who could do what was needed - but she wanted to try, more than she ever had before. Perhaps she would fail, but she could not know if she never took the throne. She had been intending to find General Fong and tell him these things; and then she had come to the courtyard and seen the Avatar and her friends attacked.

And now she had been possessed, she thought distantly. Taken by a spirit; struck on the head by a loose piece of stone. Whatever the cause, words were spilling from her mouth that she had never thought she would have the courage to say.

"The Avatar is not a weapon. That you should think to use her as such tells me you have more in common with the Fire Lord than I had ever suspected."

General Fong had turned angrily at the touch on his shoulder; but he faltered now, with an expression on his face like he had just been punched. "Your highness-"

"Your majesty, I think," Yuanlin said, and it came out so cold and commanding she could hardly believe she was listening to herself. "It is time I claimed the throne that is mine." Her mother had said something to her once, when she had been a child. To speak your mind is a dangerous thing, she had said, and laughed. And it was - Yuanlin felt as though she might never stop. Her heart was thundering in her chest; she had never spoken to anyone so boldly in her life. How did anyone ever go back to diplomatic politeness after this?

"Your majesty, do not be foolish. We have been abandoned; her people are one among many who have left us to fight a hundred-year war alone. It is as much as she owes us-"

"She owes us nothing," Yuanlin said. "Unless you propose that we blame her for the way the land and sea are arranged, the cause of our troubles has nothing to do with her." Beside her, the soldier had obediently pulled Yue free, and she was standing at Yuanlin's shoulder. "Sometimes others help to save us," she said, half to Yue; "and sometimes we must save ourselves."

General Fong's expression had closed further and further as she spoke, and now he laughed, ugly and sharp. "Oh? And what will you do, your very young majesty, when the Fire Nation comes to take this city again? What makes you think you are capable?"

It was the question Yuanlin had spent the last four months fearing, certain that someone would ask and that she would have no answer. Now, she looked down at him and smiled, just a little. "Nothing," she said. "Perhaps I am not; perhaps I will be the first to die. But I am not moved by bitterness, or by revenge - only the desire to do what is best for Gungsao. You cannot say the same. Should you be forced to choose between an opportunity to fight and an opportunity to flee safely and return another day, how could you be trusted to decide with a clear mind?"

"Ah, yes," General Fong said sourly, "better that such choices be left to frightened girls."

"I know that I am frightened," Yuanlin said, "and so I will know not to let the fear choose for me. You have been angry so long that you cannot tell the difference between the anger and yourself."

The Avatar had come to the base of the stairs, with the Earth Kingdom girl supporting her on one side and her brother on the other; she was listing more heavily with every step, her eyes closed. "I hate to interrupt," the other girl said, "but could somebody help us find somewhere for her to rest?"

"Of course," Yuanlin said, handing the pike back to Yue with a bow. "Please, follow me," and she turned and led them back into the palace, leaving General Fong standing alone on the stairs.

*

They would not take a larger boat - they needed something four people could handle. But there were plenty of other things they needed, clothing repairs and replacements of worn shoes and fresh supplies; and Yuanlin happily provided.

"Seriously, this boat is sitting like a foot lower in the water now," Sokka said as he climbed off the dock, and Yuanlin smiled.

"I hope you will accept my apologies for General Fong," she said, dipping her head in a bow.

The Avatar, already standing in the stern, bit her lip. "You aren't going to - kill him or anything, are you?" she said. "I did agree. I mean, not to the part where he shoved my friends into rocks; but he wasn't actually trying to hurt us."

"Yeah, he's a sad and misunderstood guy," Sokka said, rolling his eyes.

"He will not be killed," Yuanlin assured the Avatar. "He did not act honorably, and he will not keep his rank; but he will not be killed. I know you have not seen much evidence of it - or, perhaps, too much - but he is a fine tactician. I think he could do much good if he could only remember his purpose."

"I hope you're right," the Avatar said.

Yue was last to board the boat, and she stopped before she left the dock to touch Yuanlin's shoulder. "I think you will be an excellent queen," she said; and the smile did not drop from Yuanlin's face until long after their boat had vanished on the horizon.

---

If I did not completely mess this up, the first phrase, in Mandarin, would be rendered in pinyin as běiguó de shŏudū, which can be approximately translated as "capital of the northern region". The second likewise reads (well, should read!) in pinyin as the name of the city: Chāngměi. Back.

---

Back to Top

Chapter Two: The Avatar Temple

It had been a long time since Azula had been near the grounds of the Royal Fire Nation Academy for Girls. She had not set foot there since the day she had passed the last of the exams - with record scores, of course. She would not have allowed herself to settle for less.

She did not have to set foot there today, either, for Mistress Im's home was not located on the grounds; but from where she was, she could see the school walls, the clusters of buildings, the upturned roof of the tower where they had been taught the basics of astronomy. She did not miss it - to miss something was to give it control, and Azula did not give control away. But she smiled at it for a moment as her ostrich horse picked its way up the path. For years, the Academy had been Azula's whole world, and she had ruled it happily, unchallenged. It was pleasant to remember.

She had come without any escort, without the lines of soldiers that usually followed her whenever she was in public; they would only have been an encumbrance here.

Mistress Im's home was also exactly as Azula remembered it, down to the boulder on the left side of the house that had always made it so easy to climb from the top of the wall to the ground. Mistress Im herself was older, the lines of her face softened, but there was no gray in her hair, and her smile was unchanged.

"Your highness," Mistress Im said, bowing appropriately low, and a servant came to lead Azula's ostrich horse away. "You have come to see my son, I suppose - surely you do not need help breaking into the school kitchens yet again?"

Azula smiled, as sweetly as she could. Mistress Im still saw the little girl Azula had once been, the eager student who had not yet killed. Inaccurate, now; but to maintain the illusion would serve Azula's purpose nicely. "Not today," she said, "though I do have a favor in mind."

"Well, there can be no talk of business before we have had tea," Mistress Im said. "Please, Princess, come in."

It was a redundant thing to say, in a sense. It wasn't as though she could have refused Azula entrance. But it certainly made things simpler. Azula kept the smile on her face. "You have ginseng, I hope," she said, and stepped inside.

*

Samnang must have been somewhere at the back of the house; he came down the hall toward them just as Mistress Im was leading her through a doorway, and he went still when he saw Azula.

He was taller now, but he watched her the same way: unblinking and careful, like she might stab him as easily as smile at him, and he wanted to be ready for either. To be fair, it was not an inaccurate premise; he had always had good sense. That was half the reason he had made such an excellent accomplice. "Princess Azula," he said, even and unreadable. "We weren't expecting you."

"What, a princess can't just stop by and visit an old friend?"

Samnang said nothing; his mother patted him on the shoulder. "I'll be back in a moment with the tea, Princess," she said to Azula with a polite dip of the head, and backed away.

"Why are you here?" he said, tone just deferent enough that the question did not sound rude.

Azula smiled. "You've been helpful many times in the past," she said. "We would never have been able to get into Master Chao's private stores if it hadn't been for you. And the gate - Mai and Ty Lee would never have known where to look for the spare paint." It was true. They had managed a fair amount of havoc on their own, but they'd done so much better when they'd had a teacher's son who knew the grounds like the back of his hand. "You remember."

The smile that crept onto his mouth said that he did, and after a moment, he nodded. "And?"

"And I'm hoping you'll prove helpful again," she said.

*

Mistress Im came back with the tea, and when they were finished, she kindly insisted Azula be given a tour of the house. "We have made some additions," she explained, "for the girls, and the twins - the girls are in class now, but the twins are too young."

"It would be my pleasure," Samnang said, and led her down the hall.

The twins were indeed too young for school - perhaps two years old, they were curled up asleep, nose-to-nose, on a thick mat in their new room. "How darling," Azula murmured, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see Samnang's gaze dart to her.

"You hope I'll be helpful, you said." Samnang took a step closer. "How?"

"Come with me to the colonies," Azula said, kneeling down by the foot of the mat. They really were adorable children, round-cheeked and sleek-haired. "Apparently my dear brother's exile has not led to the self-improvement we all hoped for, and my uncle is not above following his example. My father has given me free rein to ... track them down. It would be an honor if you would join me." For you, she did not need to say.

"And a pleasure," Samnang said, but his tone did not suggest cheerful acceptance. "But I should not leave my mother-"

"No, of course," Azula said kindly. "I understand. It was a selfish request; no doubt your mother needs you here. After all, it would be a terrible shame if anything were to happen to your family." She turned to smile at him over her shoulder, and from beneath her fingers, smoke began to curl up from the corner of the mat. All of Azula's Firebending instructors had complimented her on her control.

Samnang swallowed, eyes following the smoke as it curled up lazily over the twins' heads. "A terrible shame," he repeated. "But my mother is so close to the school; no doubt she will have all the help she needs. I'll tell her so when I ask her permission - I'm sure she will agree."

"I hope so," Azula said, and lifted her hand away from the blackened, still-smoking mat. She knew she had been right to come here. Samnang truly hadn't lost his good sense.

*

By the time she had returned to the coast with Samnang in tow, the ship was ready and waiting, as she had ordered: a Navy vessel, but on the small side, built more for speed than strength. The crew was loyal, carefully chosen by Father himself, and when she stepped on board and watched them bow she couldn't help smiling.

"Where are we headed?" Samnang said.

Azula considered. "Port Tsao, I think," she said. "A neutral port, and in the right area - if my dear brother has been there, it will not take long to find out."

"As you say, Princess," the captain said, bowing again; and a moment later, they were easing away from the dock, headed for the Gates of Azulon.

***

"No offense to Waterbenders in the area," Sokka said, "but, seriously, I'm getting kind of tired of water. I can almost tell I've met this water before, and that is just not okay."

They had curved east on their way south from Changmei, plotting a careful course that kept them as far from land as possible, and they had been rewarded. Even with the Fire Nation on one side of them and the colonies on the other, they hadn't seen a single ship, except maybe a couple deep-water fishing boats in the distance. To be fair, with two Waterbenders instead of just one, they were speeding along with remarkable ease.

But they were angling in toward the shore now, and Suki had to admit that it looked distinctly familiar. They weren't quite back at Lingsao - that was a fair way to the south. But they had definitely passed this stretch of coastline before. Suki wouldn't have been surprised if they had run into their old canoe on the way.

"Sorry," Katara said dryly.

Sokka made a weighing motion with his hands. "Actually, it's making me kind of nostalgic. Remember back when it was just Zuko trying to kill us, instead of all those archers and admirals and fleets? Ah, the good old days." He leaned his elbows on the gunwale and sighed.

Behind his back, Katara and Yue looked at each other and grinned; and the easy motion of the boat slowed at the exact moment a sudden wave leapt up to smack Sokka in the face.

"Hey!"

Suki couldn't help giggling, and Sokka turned to glower at her, drips flying.

"You're all terrible people," he said, wiping haphazardly at his face.

"You'd have laughed at you, too," Suki said, before she took pity on him and turned to look for a spare cloth for him to dry off with.

"Does that look like it might be a temple tower to anyone else?" Yue said.

Suki yanked the first cloth she laid hands on out of her pack and tossed it to Sokka before she looked. The shoreline had been unremarkable so far; mostly trees, and the occasional rock large enough to see clearly from where they were. But there was definitely something else now, tall and faintly reddish through the haze. Katara sucked in a sharp breath, and her side of the boat wobbled for a second.

"That's it," she said, "that's exactly how it looked when Roku showed it to me. That's the place."

***

Today was the winter solstice, though they were close enough to the middle of the map that it was rather undramatic. At home, it was midsummer right now; but midwinter meant weeks of night, and the solstice the darkest of it. Here, the days were simply a little shorter.

They had made excellent time, and Katara had been pretty sure they were going to make it, but it was still a relief to see the temple in the distance. If this ever happened again, she was going to ask Roku for more specific directions.

By the time they reached the shore, only the very top of the temple was visible over the trees; but Suki spotted the trailhead of a path, marked with a post that was carved with the Fire Nation's three-tongued flame.

"Awesome," Sokka said. "Why are we walking right up to a Fire Nation temple, again?"

"Because Roku needs us to," Katara said.

Sokka eyed her. "We're not going to pick up a new dead guy, are we? I kind of like the one we've got."

Aang laughed, drifting over until he could mime patting Sokka's head with one intangible hand. "Don't worry," he said, "you're stuck with me."

Katara grinned. "No," she said to Sokka. "We're just going to visit one."

*

The temple was on a small hill, the carefully-tended path leading them up the slope to the steps. It was beautiful, all curling eaves and red-toned tilework, and Katara was so busy staring at it all that it took Sokka's elbow in her ribs for her to realize there was someone else in the entrance hall.

The man was red-robed, shoulder-cloak held closed with a red stone, red bands around his wrists, red hat on his head.

"It's like they think maybe we don't get that this is a Fire Nation temple," Sokka murmured.

"This is a sacred place - how dare you," the man said loudly.

Katara swallowed. Roku had said they would help, she remembered it exactly; but maybe they should have changed into those red clothes they'd bought in Jindao, just in case.

Still, surely when she told him who she was, he would do his duty. "Sorry? I don't mean to cause any trouble. I'm the Avatar, and I had - well, sort of a vision-" She really should have planned this out first.

Then again, it might not have mattered. The moment she said the word "Avatar", the man's face twisted sharply into a scowl, and a second later he punched out with his fists and sent a billow of flame at her head.

She had her bending pouch with her, but it wasn't open - she hadn't been expecting a fight. So she threw herself to the floor with a yelp, fire roaring past overhead.

"Wait," Yue said behind her, "you don't understand," but before she could finish, the man hurled a long whip of fire at her face, and she had to dodge or be burned.

"I think he understands just fine," Sokka said, hauling Katara up by the elbow. "Time to run!"

But there were already two more behind them - they must have been somewhere outside, and drawn in by the noise.

She had lost track of Aang in the initial moment of surprise, but when she turned to look for another way out, he was there, to the side of the hall, gesturing to her from the end of a corridor. "This way, quick!"

"Come on," Katara said, grabbing Suki's arm before she could hit anybody, and ran as fast as she could.

They skidded around the corner, fire crackling past their ears and arms, and the entrance hall echoed with shouts behind them; but their sudden dash had taken the Firebenders by surprise, and they had a pretty good head start. They managed to round another corner, and then Aang darted through a door - "Don't worry, it's empty," he yelled over his shoulder as his head began to vanish, so Katara shoved the door open and yanked Suki and Sokka inside, Yue on their heels.

Aang had been right: it was empty. Yue pulled the door closed behind them, careful to keep it from slamming, and the only other door led into another hallway that was blissfully quiet and still.

"I knew this was a bad idea," Sokka said, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. "Didn't I say this was a bad idea? I totally did."

"But I don't understand," Katara said helplessly. "Roku said they would help us, I don't-"

"Well, maybe they would have - a hundred and some years ago," Sokka said. "Seriously, am I the only one who remembers how long these people have been dead?"

Katara frowned at him, but she couldn't say he was wrong. Roku had sounded sure, but who knew how long it had been since he had been to the temple? Koh had made it sound like it was easy to lose track of time in the spirit world. Maybe Roku really had forgotten that anyone at the temple he had known would now be dead.

"Sensitively put," Suki said. "There's nothing we can do about it now. Did Roku say where you needed to be at sunset?"

"No," Katara admitted, "but it's a temple. There must be a sacred room - somewhere for the relics to be kept, or something."

"Probably one of the upper floors," Yue suggested. "A place touched by the Avatar would not be placed in a hall dozens walk through every day."

Sokka put his hands on his hips. "Okay, dead guy," he said to the air. "Find us some stairs."

***

Sen Ya breathed in, and the candle flame before her sharpened, thin as a blade; she breathed out, and it flared, suddenly fat and tall.

Meditation had never come easily to her; but she had aspired to serve as a fire sage for as long as she could remember, and she had forced herself to master it. She had found that the candles helped: she had learned to focus on them, to watch them without thinking, observe without judgment, and thereby clear her mind.

Not all of the sages meditated, of course; it was no longer required as it had been in the old days. But Sen Ya was an avid student of history - she had not come to the sages with her eyes shut.

Still, she was lucky to have been assigned here, lucky that Shyu and Li Fan had been sent to the same place. She might well have wavered in her search for truth if she had been alone. Nothing flourished in perfect isolation. Without anyone who thought as she did, anyone to talk to, she would have walled herself away in her own mind, and done no good at all.

True, their progress was slow; High Sage Yi did not like any of them, and Sen Ya suspected that he had begun actively warning the aspirants not to talk to them, judging by the way Aspirant Waizu had turned from her yesterday. But they could not be the only ones who saw that something was not right. Sooner or later, there would be light in the temples again.

But enough. These rambling thoughts were not easing her way.

She closed her eyes and made her mind quiet; perhaps two seconds later, there was a knocking at the door, soft but hurried.

Clearly today was not going to be one of her more spiritual days.

She rose to her knees and blew the candle out, sighing, before she rose to open the door - but the moment she saw that it was Shyu, all irritation fled.

"What is it?"

He had been looking down the hallway behind him, almost nervously, and when she spoke, he jumped. But when he turned to look at her, his eyes were alight, and there was a hint of a smile in the corners of his mouth.

"The Avatar," he said. "She has come to us."

"Explain," Sen Ya said instantly. She could not believe Shyu would lie to her, but surely it was not possible - the rumors that been sweeping the western coasts this year had been many, it was true, but he would not come knocking over a rumor.

"A girl in blue," Shyu said. "Water Tribe - the next in the cycle, don't you see, if the Air Nomad before her lived and died in hiding? She came into the hall saying she was the Avatar, led here by a vision." He hesitated.

"Is that all you know?" Sen Ya said, and then a thought struck her. "Tell me they didn't."

"She was attacked," Shyu admitted. "Li Fan saw everything."

Sen Ya's heart was pounding. "Then this is our chance - this is our moment, to serve the purpose our brothers and sisters have forgotten." She looked at Shyu. "Quickly, where is Li Fan? We must find the Avatar before it is too late."

*

They would have found her eventually, the temple was only so large; but when they did, it was more a matter of luck than skill. They rounded a corner and nearly ran over her. Them, rather - three girls and a boy, and for a moment, Sen Ya was not sure which to look at. A Water Tribe girl, Shyu had said, so neither the boy nor the girl in green with the strong arms; but there were two Water Tribe girls, one with a long dark braid and the other with hair as white as foam.

"Oh," one of the girls said, surprised; and then her face settled into fierce lines, and she raised her arms, water gushing from the pouch at her waist and pooling in the air in front of her.

"No, wait," Sen Ya began, and the girl paused - the brief stillness made the sound of boots coming up the hall blatantly audible.

"Quick, there's more coming, we need to get past them," the Earth Kingdom girl said hurriedly.

"No," Shyu said, "you need to come with us."

"Not if we can help it," the boy said.

"That isn't what I meant," Shyu said; but Li Fan was already ducking behind him, opening the passage in the wall with a small burst of flame from one fingertip. Good thinking - they did not have time to stand in the hall explaining.

"They will not find us, but you have to come now," Sen Ya said.

They looked at each other. "There's only three of them," the boy said after a moment. "I think we can take them if we have to."

"Better three in front of us than ten behind us," the white-haired girl added, and they rushed as a group through the door in the wall, eyeing Li Fan warily as they passed. Sen Ya hurried after them, Shyu in front of her, and pressed another flame into the space on the inner wall; and the door swung closed behind her just as the first boot-toe rounded the corner down the hall.

***

Once the wall had closed again, it was pitch-black behind it, and Katara froze warily; if those three had brought them in here to attack them, this was the perfect time for it. But there was a shuffle of movement, and then three flames burst to life at once, each cupped in the palm of a hand.

"Perhaps we should move further from the hallway," the woman suggested in a whisper, and led them back about the width of a room and then off to the left. The secret passage evidently wound around the temple tower - it was only a few feet wide, and as long as the width was the same everywhere, it would be hard to tell it was there just by looking at the temple.

"Okay, that's far enough," Sokka said, once they had reached another turn that had to be the corner of the temple. "Who are you guys, and why aren't you trying to kill us?"

"Forgive us," one of the men said. "I am Shyu; that is Li Fan, and that is Sen Ya. We are also sages, like those who attacked you, but-"

"Some sages are more sage than others," Li Fan murmured, smiling.

Sen Ya sighed. "Despite his penchant for poor wordplay," she said, "Li Fan is essentially correct. Many have now forgotten that it is the duty of the temple sages to serve the Avatar, and the balance; but we remember. The sages are taught that Avatar Roku was the last Avatar to serve faithfully. They say that he was followed by an Air Nomad whose resistance to the balance would have destroyed us all, if the Airbenders had not been mercifully eliminated by Fire Lord Sozin."

Katara winced; Aang was staring at Sen Ya, blue mouth agape, like someone had just kicked him in the face. "That's not true," she said, more loudly than she had meant to.

"No, indeed it is not," Li Fan said. "Not all the records from that time are gone; and it is clear that holding the rank of high sage does not stop a person from telling lies."

"So it's the three of you against the world, huh?" Sokka said.

"There are more like us," Sen Ya said, "but not many. Sages who have pledged themselves wholeheartedly to the service cannot be turned away; but if they cannot convince themselves to accept the doctrines, they are reassigned to isolated temples where they will not cause trouble."

"I was transferred here myself," Shyu said. "Last year, I was serving in the Crescent Island temple; but they did not much care for me there."

"But the three of you are all still here?" Yue said.

In the flickering light coming from Sen Ya's palm, it was hard to read Sen Ya's face; but Katara thought her expression landed somewhere between sheepish and proud. "We have become known to the high sages' circle as dissenters," she said. "Temples hoping to increase their numbers mysteriously fill to bursting when High Sage Yi attempts to send us elsewhere."

"But enough," Li Fan said. "If I remember what I heard in the entrance hall correctly, you are not here to learn the recent history of the Fire Sages, Avatar."

"No, I'm not," Katara admitted. "I'm here to talk to Roku."

***

Sen Ya listened to the Avatar tell of her dream with steadily-increasing wonder. She had read of such things, deep in the musty temple archives; but she had never expected to have an Avatar stand before her and describe what it was to be visited by a spirit.

"Well," Li Fan said, when she was done, "he must have meant for you to go to his sanctuary room. That is one of the most sacred places in the temple; if there is anywhere he will come to you, it is there."

"What's in there?" the boy said.

Sen Ya exchanged a glance with Li Fan. "We do not know," she said. "Most of the sages rarely have reason to enter the sanctuary rooms; and somehow I doubt High Sage Yi would ever have granted any of us permission even if we had been moved to ask."

"Then how am I going to get in?" the Avatar said, a little nervously.

"I suspect it will take a generous helping of good luck," Li Fan said.

*

And their luck was good, at the start: no one was in the antechamber that led to the sanctuary rooms. Most of the sages were probably still scouring the lower hallways for the Avatar.

It was true that Sen Ya had never been inside before. But she had been shown the door by High Sage Yi when she had first come here - the door, and the Firebending lock that guarded it.

Theirs was a relatively new temple, and the sanctuary dedicated to Avatar Roku had pride of place. The temples divided up their duties: Avatar Roku had lived among the eastern islands, and so he was honored by their temple, and the Crescent Island temple, as they were the nearest. Avatar Kunnarya had been from the eastern islands, and Avatar Zhangdien had lived there over half his life; the auxiliary sanctuaries, one to either side, were theirs.

Avatar Roku's stood in the middle, with the great door that stood three times Sen Ya's height - the lock that held it closed took five sages to open.

Or it was meant to, at least; perhaps, Sen Ya thought, there were ways to work around it.

"You cannot yet Firebend?" she asked the Avatar, just in case.

The Avatar looked abashed. "No," she said, "I'm only just mastering Waterbending, I haven't had time-"

"You should not break with the cycle," Sen Ya said, trying to be reassuring. She had not realized it before, with the hurry they had been in, and then the darkness of the secret passage - the Avatar's expression had been so serious, her stance so confident, but she was nevertheless distinctly young. About the age Ba Jin would be now, if Sen Ya were back at home.

She touched the Avatar's shoulder gently, and some of the anxiety left the girl's face.

"Perhaps we will be enough," Shyu said. "We will not have the power to hold it open long, but if two of us stand like so-"

The stance he took was not a traditional one, with the arms so far apart - and, more importantly, it would not equal the power of a two-handed blast, which the lock was supposed to require. But perhaps he was right: perhaps it would shift the door enough for the Avatar to slip through, even if they could not make it open completely.

"You must be ready," Li Fan advised. "If it opens for us, it will not be very wide, and it will not do so for long."

The Avatar bit her lip, looking back at the boy and the other two girls. "But - can't they come with me?"

"I doubt there will be time," Sen Ya said.

"Come on," the boy added, "this is a wacky Avatar thing. We're probably not supposed to go in there."

"But don't worry," the girl with the short hair said. "We'll hold the room until you get back."

The Avatar sucked in a breath, and then nodded, and strode up to the sanctuary door. "Okay," she said. "I'm ready."

Sen Ya was already in a fairly good position. Li Fan and Shyu lined up beside her, Shyu on the other end. They looked at each other, and nodded once; and then Sen Ya spread her arms apart, palms to the door, and let the fire burst from her hands.

***

The door slammed with a bang like ice cracking; Katara was almost surprised that it didn't take one of her feet with it.

The massive lock had unwound itself uncertainly, just far enough for Katara to cram her fingers into the door and pry it open. It had jammed before she could get it far, metal clanging as the lock rebelled - but it had been far enough for her to squeeze through unhurt.

Aang drifted through after her as as though there were nothing there, peering around the room curiously; Katara liked being alive, but clearly some things would be a lot easier if she were dead.

The sanctuary room was big, high-ceilinged, and there was a dais in the middle, shallow steps rising from the floor to support a statue of Roku that was at least half again as tall as Katara. It was almost like the one in the Southern Air Temple, except that it stood alone; and Roku's face was different, expression more imperious than wise.

"So," Katara said. "Is it going to come alive or something?"

"I don't think so," Aang said, floating closer. "This is his place - like the Southern Air Temple for me, or Kyoshi Island for Kyoshi. But he's still a spirit, and it takes some work to cross worlds. Even getting close enough to find somebody's dream is kind of iffy."

"It doesn't seem that hard for you," Katara ventured.

Aang looked at her, briefly grave. "I guess I'm not finished here yet," he said slowly. He gave the room another glance. "But Roku was, and he has been for a long time." He squinted up at the wall, drifting a little higher: there was a small window there, just a touch higher than the statue's head.

"For the sun," Katara blurted, almost the moment the thought formed in her mind. "For the - you see how it'll come through, when the sun's in the right place?"

"Yeah, of course," Aang said, eyes wide; his blue fingers were outstretched, nearly touching the surface of the window. "He was a Firebender, before he was everything else. The sun must give his spirit power."

Katara turned and eyed the statue. "This is another one of those meditation things, isn't it," she said, sighing.

Aang grinned at her. "Probably wouldn't hurt," he said, and then, big-eyed and sincere: "Just remember to transcend."

Katara stuck her tongue out at him, and then sat on the chilly stone at the statue's feet and lined up her knuckles. "Somehow I never imagined that being the Avatar would take so much sitting still," she said ruefully, and then closed her eyes.

***

Zuko set his feet on the dock and sighed.

It had been a difficult trip, since they had passed the western tip of Gungduan - the sailing had been perfectly smooth, but it had been hard to sail away from the Avatar, even knowing that they would have another chance now that she had come down from the north. But now that they had reached Port Tsao again, they had had a chance to make repairs: one last stubborn boiler had still held damage from their very first encounter with the Avatar, and the explosion and the giant wave hadn't done them any favors.

Sub-Admiral Yin hadn't had to do anything drastic, as it turned out; their ship had quietly separated from her fleet the moment they had come into the harbor, and so far no one seemed any the wiser. "I am pleased," she had admitted, just before they had departed, "but you should know: if I am asked, I will tell them I thought you dead, and you may yet be labeled a stowaway."

"I think perhaps I can bear the shame," he'd said, a little wryly, because he could. It was a moderately serious charge, for a traitor to stow away in a ship of the Imperial Navy, but it was nothing compared to the dishonor that was already marked so clearly on his face.

To the Earth Kingdoms, he was Fire Nation; to the Fire Nation, he was an exile. It should have been impossible to find someone to repair the ship, but it hadn't been - evidently a neutral port was home to many people who were loose in their allegiance. There was only a little left to do, and Mizan was overseeing it. But when the ship was fully repaired, they would need, as Uncle had termed it, a place to point it. So it was time now to search the docks for rumors of the Avatar.

"Come, Prince Zuko," Uncle said. "Most people are eager to share what they know; I think this will not take long."

***

Azula had not expected it to be so easy. She had not even been paying attention to where she had been walking; she had been busy considering her options. To New Ozai, first, for Mai? Or better to track down Ty Lee's circus? It could take a long time, but they traveled the northern colonies; they should be closer.

And then she had turned, to tell Samnang to watch for a stable where they could buy ostrich horses, and there he had been. Zuko, with Uncle beside him, striding along the wharfside like they had not turned their backs on everything Father stood for; like their necks should not be bent to breaking beneath the weight of their shame. It was ridiculous.

The sudden rush of anger made blue sparks fly between her fingers when she clenched her fists; but she forced it down, and felt a smile begin to break over her face. Good luck was not to be ignored.

"My brother," she called across the docks, and watched Zuko turn and stare, satisfaction warm in her chest as she strode forward. "And Uncle! What luck." She was close enough now to see Zuko swallow unsteadily, and it was hard to keep her smile from turning gleeful.

"Azula," Zuko said warily. "What are you doing here?"

Azula laughed. "Oh, Zuzu," she said, "I see you have learned no social graces during your years away. Not even a word of greeting for your own sister?"

"Years away," Uncle repeated, in that odd measured way Azula hated. Somehow he always managed to sound as though he thought Azula were missing something. It was infuriating. "That is a kind description."

"Azula is in a generous mood," Samnang said, very even.

Azula waved a hand dismissively. "It isn't only me," she said. "Father has been thinking of you - both of you - very often these past few months. Things in the capital are-" She made herself hesitate briefly, eyes flicking down and away as though she felt uncertain. Mai would never have fallen for it; but Mai was not here, and Zuko had never been very perceptive. "Difficult. The war is progressing well, but the closer we come to victory, the greater the number of people who decide they would like to be the one in charge when it finally arrives. Rumors and plots abound, the palace is full of conspiracy - and Father has been moved to remember the strength of ties of blood."

Zuko scoffed, but Azula could see it in the corners of his eyes, the tilt of his mouth - the credulence that had always been one of his greatest weaknesses. He had always been inclined to believe what he was told, to believe everyone meant well; apparently four years in exile had not changed that. You'd think he would have learned.

"Even when he can trust no one at court, he can trust family." She made her mouth curve again, more gently, as though to suggest she felt the same way. "He regrets it, Zuko," she said, very soft. "He wants you to come home."

Zuko stared at her. All the antagonism had drained from his face; there was nothing but surprise there now, surprise and a painful edge of hope.

"Excellent news, isn't it?" Azula said, putting her hand on his shoulder. She would have to wash it later, she thought, and nearly smiled at the wrong time. "The best - are you not pleased?" She shook him, just a little. "I came a very long way to tell you myself."

"I," Zuko said, faltering, and then swallowed and looked at Uncle. "I can't - he wants me to come back?"

"Come to my ship," Azula said. "We will talk - I'll tell you everything he said. Samnang, go ahead of us, quickly, and tell them to prepare. I did not think we would find you so soon," she explained to Zuko, and, still gripping his shoulder, led him along the docks.

***

It happened just the way it had last time: everything slid away, so gradually Katara barely noticed it, and she had no idea how much time had passed when she came free of herself.

She didn't drift to that familiar gray space the way she had been expecting to; when she saw Roku, it was against the backdrop of a space of pale stone, like the bare top of a mountain, and the mist around them was touched with sunlight.

"Avatar," he said, and smiled very faintly. "I am glad to see you. It would have been very difficult if you had not come."

Aang wasn't there - but then maybe he'd decided to stay behind and keep an eye out. Katara bowed deeply to Roku; hopefully it would make what she was about to say sound a little less rude. "Avatar Roku," she said, and then straightened up. "I'm sorry to have to tell you, but the sages, they turned against me-"

"I know," Roku said, and he sounded aggrieved. "I told you there were sages here who would help you, and there are: three of them, to be precise. In the other temple where I have power, there is now only one. This temple, I thought, would be the safer." He waved a hand. "But enough - you are here, and our time is limited. Now is not the moment to discuss whether the Fire Sages have strayed from their purpose. Tell me, Avatar: what do you know about the beginning of the Hundred-Year War?"

Katara tried to remember what Gran-Gran had told them, in the evenings around the fire. "Fire Lord Sozin began it," she said. "He wiped the Air Nomads from the earth; and he besieged Ba Sing Se and raided the south, all at the same time. Ba Sing Se held firm against him - but no Air Nomads are left, and he weakened the Southern Water Tribe greatly with that first attack."

"That is all true," Roku said, "but there was a reason he chose a single day to do it all."

"Sozin's Comet," Katara filled in, and Roku nodded, looking like something heavy had come down on his shoulders.

"Yes," he said, and then, "I - I knew him, then, before I died. His aims were misplaced, but he was no fool. I was already dead when the war began, but all the spirit world felt it: the day the war began, the comet was closest, brightest, burning even in daylight."

"I don't understand," Katara said. "I mean, I understand about the comet, I know that part of the story - but why did you tell me to come here now? It's been a hundred years since all that. If you wanted to make sure I knew the history of the war-"

"No," Roku said, "although you should not underestimate the value of such knowledge. I asked you to come here precisely because it has been a hundred years: the comet is returning."

"Returning?" Katara said, swallowing; her belly was suddenly cramped with nausea. Don't throw up in front of the Avatar. "No - it can't be-"

"It can," Roku said, sympathetic but inexorable. "It is. Sozin's Comet will come to the sky again in the height of northern summer, less than a year from now. Fire Lord Ozai already knows it will return soon, though his understanding of when is not precise; as soon as it begins to shine again in the sky, he will begin his preparations, and he will use its power to burn the Earth Kingdoms to ash. If you cannot stop him, he will win the war by the end of the summer, and there will never be balance in this world again."

Katara stared at him. "But I haven't even finished mastering Waterbending."

"If you do not have command of the elements by the end of the summer," Roku said, "all is lost." He looked back at her gravely, and then suddenly frowned, turning his head. "Something is wrong," he said, "in the temple. You know what I needed to tell you, Avatar; and I can help you and your friends to leave this place safely, if you wish it. The rest is yours to do."

***

Zuko climbed the gangplank slowly; his eyes were on the ramp ahead of him, but he felt like he could barely see it. Surely it should have sunk in by now, but somehow the more times he thought it, the more ridiculous it seemed. Father wanted him back. Father wanted him back?

It made no sense. Father hardly ever changed his mind, and he did not show goodwill readily - how often had he told Zuko there was no advantage to be had by being quick to dispense favor? If Zuko had succeeded in returning with the Avatar, then perhaps - perhaps. But now? When he had done nothing of note in the last few months, except die?

He paused halfway up, dock behind him and deck before; Azula, ahead of him, took a few more steps before she realized he was no longer moving and turned around. "What? What is it?"

"Admiral Zhao tried to kill me," he said, "and thought he'd succeeded - why did you come to tell me, if you thought I was dead?"

Azula laughed. "Because I didn't," she said. "Even when typhoon season is over, it is a perilous trip back to Da Su-Lien for a messenger hawk; and ships from the colonies do not come so often as that. I am sure no one was eager to report your death to Father. Come, Zuko - there will be plenty of time for you to tell me what you've been up to when we are safely aboard." She turned, dismissive, and took another step up the gangplank.

Zuko bit his lip, and looked over his shoulder at Uncle, who was watching him with calm eyes. Uncle had had to come to a stop behind him, but there was no impatience in his face.

"Come on, Zuko," Azula said, irritation starting to bleed through the pleasant tone she had been using ever since she'd found them. She sounded more like herself right now than she had at any other moment - more real, more sincere, and something about the difference was making Zuko want to back up.

"I - I don't-" He couldn't figure out how he'd been planning to finish that sentence.

Azula had turned around again, and she was eyeing him, arms crossed. She sighed. "I had been hoping to avoid this," she said, conversational. "It will be so messy this way."

She motioned with one hand, and the guards who had been standing silent at the base of the gangplank moved to block the end, weapons at the ready.

"I've been practicing," she said, "just for you," and her smile was girlish and pleased. She swung her arms in an arc, and the air around her began to crackle, blue sparks snapping and flashing.

Zuko backed up a step, but it was foolish - the soldiers were behind him, there was nowhere to go. Azula had trapped him. He cursed himself; he should have seen it coming, should have known she would never say anything kind to him and mean it.

Lightning was gathering at her fingertips, and she lined up her arms for the end of the move and sent a bolt of it hurtling toward his face.

He ducked; he couldn't help it, it was reflexive - and it left the space where his head had been clear for Uncle's hand. Uncle caught it - caught it, Zuko had no idea where he might have learned such a thing, and the lightning tangled in his fingers for a moment before he flexed his other hand and sent the lightning darting through him and up, away into a clear sky.

Azula's face twisted in anger and annoyance. "You would dare," she said, taking a step toward them; and then she tumbled down onto the gangplank as the ship shook beneath them.

***

It would be, perhaps, something of a bad habit to get into - this was what Mizan was thinking at the exact moment Isani threw herself over the rail and said, "Zuko's in trouble."

She had sent Isani to follow Zuko and General Iroh, because they could not seem to do even the simplest things without complications arising; but it would be a bad habit to get into, having them followed by their own soldiers every time they left the ship. She had been right in the middle of telling herself so, very firmly, and then Isani's boots had hit the deck with a thump. It was a sign from the spirits, clearly. Zuko should be followed everywhere.

"What kind of trouble?" Mizan said.

"Azula trouble," Isani said.

Azula trouble - that was the worst kind. Mizan had never met the princess personally, and she knew there were many things to admire about the girl; she was an accomplished Firebender, clever by any measure you chose to employ, and she failed at nothing she set out to do. But the look on Zuko's face every time her name was mentioned had not disposed Mizan to think of her with particular kindness. And General Iroh had told her occasionally of the kinds of things Azula trouble had once entailed.

"Where are they?" Mizan said.

"Not far." Isani moved toward the bridge. "If you'll take the wheel, I'll tell you where to go."

Mizan nodded, and snagged a sailor on the way past. "Ready the catapults," she said, and followed Isani into the bridge.

*

Isani had told the truth; Azula's ship was not far away. And, luckily, it was even smaller than theirs - a light transport, built for speed more than anything, and not heavily armed.

"Fire at will," Mizan called across the deck, and two fireballs arced gracefully over the open water between and came down with a crash on the other ship.

***

Yue slammed the end of her pike into another sage's gut, and the fire that had been building between his hands flew out of his grip - not quite in the direction he had been aiming, so it was easy enough for Yue to duck.

The pike still made Yue feel clumsy, but the reach it gave her was unexpectedly useful against benders, and, even better, she did not have to do anything complex. She only had to hit them with it until their concentration faltered.

Granted, Suki's fans were also excellent, as she could sweep the fire away from herself with a quick swing; but it took somewhat more skill than Yue had to give. And Yue intended to keep her water in reserve - that way, if they should take her pike from her, she would still have a weapon left.

The fallen sage left a brief opening, and Yue took the opportunity to look around the room. They were outnumbered, definitely, and they were being overpowered - but slowly. Katara might yet have enough time to finish what she had come for.

She shouldn't have let herself think it; almost the moment the thought finished crossing her mind, Li Fan cried out and stumbled back, robes alight. Sen Ya, next to him, extinguished them - but the moment of distraction cost them, and two sages managed to get Li Fan by the wrists. Four more spilled in through the door. Yue managed to trip one, but two more rushed her, and the fire from their hands came so close she could feel her cheek tingle.

She swung out with the pike, but she could not have said whether the blow landed; a sudden fierce light filled her vision, and the floor shook beneath her, so violently that she could not tell the difference between it and any reverberation that might be coming up her arm.

She managed to keep her feet, but her balance was uncertain, and it took her a moment to realize that the light had a source: it was coming from her right, from the sanctuary room.

"The Avatar!" one of the sages cried angrily, and when the doors parted, the lock uncurling even though no one had touched it, one of them threw a fireball in with both hands.

It was caught, suspended in the air; and when the light cleared away, there was a man standing behind it, red-robed, and his eyes were glowing.

"Avatar Roku," Sen Ya said, reverent, and her voice was the loudest thing in that moment of stillness.

And then Avatar Roku flung the fireball back out of the sanctuary. It struck the wall over Yue's head, cracking apart and fizzling away into the air. He brought his arm down sharply, and the floor split beneath him, stone splintering like it could not bear the strength of his power. There was a series of echoing booms below them, like he had broken open not only this floor, but every other in the temple; and then an even lower rumble, like the very earth underneath the temple was coming apart. Yue leapt to the side a moment before the crack split the floor where she had been standing, and the wall behind her creaked and strained and then split open, too.

Everyone cried out, tumbling to the sides as the room's halves tilted. The sanctuary rooms were in the middle of the temple, the fourth floor; Yue clung to the broken edge of the wall and stared out at the ground nearly fifty feet down. Sure enough, the wide front stairs of the temple had splintered, and there was a deep crevasse in the earth below, running jaggedly out toward the shore.

***

The mountains in the east of Lannang had been volcanoes not so long ago, all the temple records said so; but Sen Ya had never believed it more than when Avatar Roku lifted his hand in front of her and drew lava up from the earth. The very air felt like it was boiling, and every breath Sen Ya took seemed to sear her throat; her hair was curling against her cheeks from the sheer heat.

The boy had been near her, and had slid back against the side wall, sword still clutched tightly in his hand. She skidded back herself, now, and caught his arm. "Quickly," she said, "you must be ready - it will not last."

The whole room was glowing red with the light of molten stone, but already the lava closest to Avatar Roku was beginning to cool. He was shaping it, Sen Ya could see, with the motions of his hands - filling the gap in the floor, and forming a path down and through the wall. The Avatar thrust out with both arms, and a great wind rose, clearing the heat from the room. He yanked them back toward himself, and a wide curl of water came through the wall - from the well, Sen Ya thought dazedly, or perhaps the sea. The room filled with steam, the worst of it channeled out by the wind; and when it had faded, Avatar Roku was gone, and the Water Tribe girl was standing unsteadily in the doorway to the sanctuary.

"Now," Sen Ya said, and tugged the boy forward. When she knelt to touch the brand-new stone in the middle of the floor, it was cool against her hands; and she could see that Avatar Roku had built a path out that went down to the edge of the beach.

The white-haired girl was already standing on it where it curved through the wall, pike at her side, and the short-haired girl had caught the Avatar before she could fall. "Katara," the boy said urgently, and hurried to loop her free arm over his shoulder.

"Go," Sen Ya said. "We will stop them if they try to follow." It was unlikely; most of the sages were still reeling, some burned by the steam as it had rushed past, others still wide-eyed from the sudden appearance of the Avatar they had all been taught to revere.

"Thanks," the boy said anyway, heartfelt, and together the four of them hurried out through the wall.

***

"Are you all right, Princess?"

"No, I'm not all right," Azula snapped, and slapped away the helping hand the soldier had presumed to offer her. Idiots, all of them - all right, as if Zuko and Uncle hadn't just escaped her grasp with ridiculous ease.

She had not been expecting an attack from the bay side; she had not been expecting an attack at all, and she grimaced briefly to think what Father would say. Shortsighted, foolish - those would be the kindest of the words he would use, and rightly so. True, she had had little time to prepare, and Samnang had done half the work, going on ahead to give orders for a trap to be prepared; but these were excuses. Excuses meant nothing. She must do better.

She pushed herself to her feet. She had nearly tumbled from the gangplank entirely when the second round of fireballs had fallen, but she had caught the rail before she could fall; her hand was still stinging. "The ship that attacked us-"

"Zuko's, Princess," the soldier said. Azula had thought it likely, but it was good to have confirmation, so she decided not to hit him for interrupting her.

She thought back over the information she had been given before she had left the palace - Zuko's crew and manifest, as they had been at the moment his ship had departed four years ago. It had been his captain, most likely; the woman named Mizan.

The ship was gone by the time she reached the deck, lost among the many boats and battleships maneuvering through the harbor. But it did not matter - Mizan would know the cost of defying Azula sooner or later. No doubt the harbor officials were already on their way to investigate the use of weaponry in a neutral port.

Samnang was beside her, waiting. He had been on deck, and hit by some piece of shrapnel, judging by the blood seeping over one ear and down his neck; but he was ignoring it, waiting for her to tell him what to do. True friendship was so precious.

"I will see to the damage," she said. "When the officials come, tell them we were attacked - tell them that the nearest Fire Nation outpost and all the colonies must be alerted. Zuko, and my uncle, and this woman Mizan: they are not only exiles, they are traitors. Anyone who shelters them will die with them, when they are found."

"Yes, Princess," Samnang said, and bowed.

***

Zuko stared down at the stream, and his fingers tightened around the hilt of his knife.

He was reflected in the water, but it was moving so quickly that his face was broken into a dozen unintelligible shards; half an eye here, the shine of his mostly-bare scalp there.

It would serve a dual purpose to cut his hair. The long high tail made him recognizable; it was an uncommon style in the colonies, and even rarer in the Earth Kingdoms. And removing it would mark the true depths of his dishonor - even more extensive, no doubt, now that he had been forced to flee from Azula.

But he still hesitated.

"Quickly, my nephew," Uncle said gently, and Zuko turned; Uncle had his own blade in one hand, and was reaching for his topknot with the other. "There is no time now - we must keep moving."

"Of course, Uncle," Zuko said. It was true - the walls of Port Tsao were not far distant, and they had much further to go before they could rest safely. Uncle Iroh sawed through his hair, strands parting easily under his knife, and looked at the hair clutched in his hand for only a moment before he dropped it into the water.

Zuko slid the tie from his own hair, and sliced it away with one swing; he didn't let himself look at it at all.

Uncle touched his shoulder. "It is not truly gone," he said. "It will grow back."

"I know," Zuko said harshly. Hair was a simpler thing than honor.

***

"Well," Admiral Shalah said. "This is a fine mess."

Yin could not disagree. Zhao had gone from a reasonably well-respected captain in charge of a city blockade to a vagrant officer chasing rumors, to a sub-admiral who had led a fleet in one of the least successful sieges ever executed against a Water Tribe city.

Admiral Shalah leaned back and sighed. "If there is anything to be salvaged from the wreckage of Zhao's career, however, it is you."

"... Excuse me, sir?"

Admiral Shalah fixed her with a considering stare. "You have done an excellent job with what remained of Zhao's fleet - not a ship lost since you took command, judging by your subordinates' reports. And I suspect you have saved us from some lesser disasters that might have been if not for your influence, though such things are naturally difficult to quantify."

"Naturally," Yin echoed.

"I held back the news of the Avatar's return before you left," Admiral Shalah said, "because it would not do to set off a panic, and because I had mostly Zhao's word - perhaps she showed herself in Jindao, or perhaps she was simply his excuse, used to cover up a bloody mistake. Now, I think, is the time. You have inescapable evidence that the Avatar is indeed alive, and presents a clear threat to the operations of the Fire Nation - and a fleet's worth of witnesses to the breadth of her power. And I think it will go over better, coming from a competent young officer who was hampered by her commander's madness but has acquitted herself well in his absence."

His absence. Delicately put. Yin wondered what Shalah would say if she knew Yin had caused that absence herself by putting a sword through Zhao's back.

"So," Admiral Shalah said. "The title you temporarily assumed is now yours in truth, Sub-Admiral Yin. You will sail your fleet to Funing Chang, where you will receive repairs and reinforcements, and pass the news of the Avatar's existence to the garrison there, where it can be sent on without delay to Da Su-Lien. And perhaps visit your family, if I have been informed correctly?"

Funing Chang - that was the central country's name for the old city, Phnan Chnang. Yin closed her eyes against the sudden sharp clench in her chest. She hadn't been there in years.

When she opened her eyes again, Admiral Shalah was still watching her, and one corner of her mouth was curling up into half a smile. "I myself am from the north, Sub-Admiral," she said. "I understand."

"It would be my pleasure to carry out your orders, sir," Yin said, and for the first time in what felt like a very long time, she meant it.

---

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Chapter Three: Song

Azula had never cared particularly for the circus. To be sure, such feats required considerable skill, and skill was to be valued - which was precisely why it was wasted on mindless crowds in the colonies seeking only a few hours' entertainment. The royal circus in the capital was another matter; at least those performers could be sure they were being properly appreciated. Ty Lee could have no similar certainty.

But then Ty Lee had always been a little odd. She rarely found fault with anything if she could possibly help it - irritating, sometimes, but it meant she always did what Azula said, which made her an excellent friend.

Or almost always, at least: right now, she was looking at Azula with the expression that meant she was trying to come up with an excuse Azula would accept.

She'd been practicing a handstand outside the main tent when they'd arrived; she'd seen Samnang first, and had yelled out a greeting without even wavering. Azula could do a perfect handstand, but it had to be admitted that she did not have Ty Lee's comfortable ease with the position. Not that it mattered, of course. Comfort was well enough, but ultimately irrelevant.

"I just - I mean, I would love to, of course I would," Ty Lee said at last, apology written in every line of her face. "It's so good to see you both! But I really shouldn't go right now. We're right in the middle of a tour, and everything's going so well. It just wouldn't be fair to everyone for me to up and-"

"I wouldn't have come if it weren't important," Azula said, gently.

"Oh, I know," Ty Lee said, "I know - it's your family, of course it's important." She bit her lip uncertainly.

Her family - what foolishness. They were not her family anymore, not after that unpleasantness at Port Tsao; but Azula did not have a chance to correct her. "The more ... assistance we have," Samnang said before she could speak, "the sooner it will be over." He was staring at Ty Lee intently, like he could make her agree if he looked at her long enough.

Azula took a few steps forward, until she was close enough to grip Ty Lee's shoulder; it was easy for her thumb to find the small weak dip under Ty Lee's collarbone. "You're so sweet; I'm sure they all love you. How could they refuse to forgive you such a small thing?" Their forgiveness, said the tightening vise of her fingers, is not what you should be worrying about.

Ty Lee was a strong girl; she had been a tumbler for years, had strained muscles and tendons, had broken the occasional bone. She didn't flinch under Azula's hand - only stared into Azula's face with those huge brown eyes, and after a long moment she let a tremulous smile curve her mouth. "You're right," she said. "I'm sure they'll understand. There's nothing more important than helping your friends."

Not quite the way Azula would have chosen to describe it; but, she supposed, as long as Ty Lee had agreed, the reasoning she used to justify it to herself was unimportant. Azula let her hand soften. "I knew you'd understand," she said, and then barely kept herself from grimacing. That had come out more sincere than she'd intended.

Ty Lee beamed. "Are we in a terrible hurry?" she said. "Or can we stay for tonight's show?"

There were a few failings in herself that Azula had yet to correct; the urge to be generous in victory was one of them. She had Ty Lee's agreement, and a few hours one way or another did not matter - Zuko and Uncle would never evade her, whether they had a few days' lead or a month's. "I suppose," she said. "Will there be lion dancing?"

***

Song ticked her way down the list in her mind. Radishes, cucumbers, cabbage; abalone from the coast, and she had already picked her way through the market's selection of mushrooms. They already had a fair amount of fish at home, not to mention the leftover turkey duck, and Song did not have enough money left for much rice - but millet would be cheaper, and Haneul had been generous with her since the day she had set his broken wrist. He usually came into town later in the week, but it couldn't hurt to check.

She was halfway to the spot where his stall usually stood when she saw them: a young man with a hat who was grumbling fiercely under his breath, and an older man beside him. They might not have caught her eye, except the older man was scratching furiously at one arm, and half his face was unnaturally red.

Song grimaced sympathetically: it looked awfully uncomfortable. A white jade rash, if she was any judge. She wondered how he could have gotten it - surely if he had known the plants of the wood well enough to feel safe foraging, he would have also known better than to eat it. But she was not being fair. Perhaps he had been desperate; Leungnok was not the only village in the west populated mostly by refugees. Who could tell where they had come from, or what they might have lost?

Song slowed her steps. The millet could wait another day or two. "Excuse me, sir," she said, and bowed, arms full of cabbage. "Are you perhaps looking for the village hospital?"

*

She sponged off the older man's shoulder, and stepped back. "There, that should help."

The man twisted his head, and sniffed the air. "I am sure it will," he said; "what is it?"

Song laughed. "Nothing much," she said. "Mostly chamomile in water, left to cool a bit so that it will not aggravate the fire in the rash."

She turned to soak the cloth and squeeze it out, and behind her, the younger man let out a bark of laughter.

"I don't believe it, Uncle," he said. "Tea is what got you into this."

"And tea has gotten me out again," his uncle said placidly, settling his shirt gently back onto his shoulders. "It is a generous master."

Song turned back around in time to see the young man roll his eyes. He was not, she thought, terribly respectful of his uncle. But then they had evidently been traveling the woods long enough to be searching for their own food, and whose tongue could not be turned sharp by discomfort and an empty belly? "You are travelers, aren't you? Do you have a place to stay?"

The young man shifted uncomfortably. "We should move on - we do not have time." He spoke more to his uncle than to Song, and his tone was suddenly harsh.

"You are very kind," the old man said gently, as though to apologize, "but my nephew is right."

"You are planning to eat sometime today, aren't you?" Song tried. "That will take time no matter where you are - and at least this way, you won't have to cook it."

They looked at each other. "A very good point," the old man said after a moment.

Song smiled. "So, tell me," she said, "what are your names?"

***

Mi-sun looked out the window and sighed. Ten years, and she still was not used to this place. Somehow, she still expected to see the river sweeping down from the mountains, and part of her was always surprised to be faced with low hills instead.

In every other way, Bucheon seemed less real the longer it had been, like most of her life had been a dream. But her eyes remembered.

Song did not. She had been very small when they had fled, and though she had told Mi-sun her blurry memories of the long hard trail over the mountains and the dusty expanse of the desert, the village they had left to burn was nothing but a faint impression that something had come before all that. And they had done well in Leungnok; it was everything Mi-sun could have hoped for when what was left of Bucheon had ground to an exhausted halt in the west and begun to rebuild. It was a tiny anchor in a wide land where everything from their clothes to their names marked them as refugees from the east. It was not safety - the war was everywhere, and the Fire Nation plagued the west now as much as it had plagued the east ten years ago.

It was not Bucheon, either; but there was no Bucheon anywhere outside of Mi-sun's head.

Mi-sun blinked. She had let her thoughts drift away from her, but her gaze was still fixed outside the window, and Song was coming up the path from town. She had only a handful of radishes in her arms - because the two men who were following her were laden with cabbages and cucumbers and mushrooms.

Mi-sun quickly folded up the last hanbok she had been lingering over - it was still perhaps a little damp, but not enough to mildew - and when they reached the step, she was there to slide the door open. "Song," she said, gently scolding, "you should not make guests carry for you."

Song shuffled her feet, abashed.

"No, no, we insisted," the older of the two men said, before Song had a chance to open her mouth; and then he smiled winningly. "It would have been rude of her to refuse."

Mi-sun pursed her lips, but she couldn't argue with him - she didn't even know his name.

As if Song had read her mind, she shifted the radishes to one side and indicated the older man with her free hand. "This is Mushi, Mother; and this is his nephew, Lee. They were traveling through, and Mushi - um, accidentally-"

"No, please," Mushi said, waving a cabbage forgivingly. "Do not conceal my haplessness from your mother. She should know what she is inviting into her house." He fixed Mi-sun with a sheepish look. "I was desperate for a good cup of tea. Suffice it to say that I chose the wrong plant for my attempt."

Mi-sun could not help but laugh, and undoubtedly he could tell even though she tried to cover her mouth with her hand; but he did not seem like the sort who would mind. It had not been noticeable from a distance, but he was only a few steps away now, and she could see the fading remains of a white jade rash streaking his cheeks. "I'm sure you are not the first," she said, and slid the door open a little wider. "Come, I will find a place for you to put those down; and then I will make you some tea that will not give you a rash."

***

"Wait, wait, hang on, there's another rock in my shoe."

Katara turned, narrow-eyed; Sokka's shoes seemed to acquire rocks at approximately the same rate that Sokka happened to want a break from walking. But her glare was wasted: he had already bent over to pull his boot off, and couldn't see her face.

Suki could, but she only grinned with half her mouth and then studiously looked away.

"Relax," Yue advised beside her, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Even if we only went a hundred steps a day, we would still get to Omashu before the end of the summer."

And then I still wouldn't be ready, Katara thought; but she managed to keep herself from saying it. It would have come out angry, and Yue didn't deserve that.

They really were making decent time, but knowing the deadline that was waiting for them, it didn't feel fast enough. She'd told them all what Roku had said, and they had all agreed: better to find an Earthbending teacher now than wait until she'd mastered Waterbending to even start looking. And Suki had immediately suggested Omashu - the king there was an Earthbender of legendary skill.

Everything was going about as well as it possibly could, considering; but Katara had been short-tempered ever since they'd left the boat behind, and she couldn't seem to stop herself. In Kanjusuk, after the battle, she'd finally been starting to feel like she really could be the Avatar, serve the world the way she was supposed to - it seemed stupid, looking back on it now. She'd been thinking about it like she would have at least a couple years; but eight months? It had been almost half that long since she had left home in the first place, and she wasn't even finished with her own element. Roku's revelation about the comet's approach was throwing her inadequacy into sharp relief, and somehow she doubted that eight months would be enough time to turn herself into what the world needed her to be.

She tilted her head forward to rub her eyes; and when she looked up again, Aang was there. He'd been off ahead of them, drifting through the branches with an ease Katara found suddenly annoying, but he must have noticed that they'd stopped.

He was looking at her with slightly narrowed eyes, in the way that meant he had a pretty good guess as to what she was thinking. "Whatever happens, you've done better than I did," he said after a moment.

She winced, and held out a finger so the others would know she hadn't started talking for no reason. "I don't know," she said, and then, as gently as she could: "You didn't get a chance to try. That's not the same thing as trying and not being good enough."

Yue was watching her somberly; but Sokka, one arm deep in his boot, rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. You're acting like the Fire Lord's already crowned himself Emperor of Existence - you don't know whether you're good enough yet. Nobody does."

"I have eight months to master three more elements!" Katara said.

"We've already traveled up a war front, spat in the face of hundreds of years of tradition to get you a teacher, lived through at least three giant battles, broken like a hundred people out of prison, and, oh, yeah, you spiritually merged with the ocean." Sokka pulled his arm back out of his boot and flicked a pebble into the underbrush. "We can totally do this."

For a second, Katara wasn't sure whether to scream or laugh; she ended up splitting the difference, covering her face with her hands and sucking in a weird, hiccupy breath.

Somebody moved, and then a hand - Suki's, Katara was pretty sure - came down on her other shoulder. "Dramatics aside," Suki said, "he's right. So let's start walking."

"No, wait," Aang said, "I've got a rock in my shoe."

Katara snorted helplessly, and swung a fist through his shoulder. "I've changed my mind," she said, "let's go back and get Roku. We need a new dead guy."

*

She wouldn't have wanted to admit it if anyone had asked, but she did feel a little steadier after. When Aang sped back to them about half an hour later and said, "So, um, there's kind of a problem," she only felt a little bit like crying.

They'd been following the ridge of a small string of hills, but they were surrounded by trees; Aang led them to the side, toward a little cliff with a clear view over the valley beside them, and pointed.

"Yeah," Katara agreed, "that's a problem."

"That's a whole encampment of problems," Suki said.

The other side of the valley was a row of hills also, much higher and wider, almost mountains; but these hills had cleared sides, trees cut away in rough ovals, and each oval had a very familiar style of catapult anchored in the middle. Soldiers in glinting red streamed up and down between the hillside stations and the camp, ringed with fire pits, that sat in the valley.

"I bet we can take them," Sokka said.

"I am sure that we could," Yue said, diplomatic, "but it might not be the best use of our time."

Suki was squinting into the distance along the line of the valley, to the south and then to the north. "They've certainly done a thorough job," she said. "And no wonder, if they're trying to move on Omashu. Not that you need to start panicking again, Katara, but it'll take us forever if we try to go around."

"So we're going through." Sokka sounded a little too pleased.

"In a stealthy way," Katara said, lifting a finger warningly. "Stealthy."

Sokka sighed. "You make everything less fun."

*

It was easy enough to stay out of sight on their side of the valley, because the Fire Nation didn't seem to be bothering with it, and the trees there were untouched. Avoiding the central camp was a bit more difficult: when they were on a level with it, it was harder to tell where it began and ended, and twice they had to duck down into the underbrush when a soldier suddenly hurried past.

On the further set of hills, though, they could barely set foot on the slope without crossing a Fire Nation path. The one that connected the catapult stations to each other was so wide that it was nearly a road, and there were dozens more crisscrossing the hillsides - apparently to make it easier for battalions of soldiers to patrol the remaining woodlands. They had three close calls in as many minutes, and the fourth might have ended in disaster if Suki hadn't accidentally edged backwards into a little cave mouth that made a perfect hiding place.

Even after the tromp of boots faded, none of them were all that eager to move from the shelter of the cave. "Break time," Sokka announced, and met with no objections. Yue began drawing in the dirt, trying to map out the paths they'd already passed; and Katara, watching her hands distractedly, didn't notice that Sokka had moved away until he spoke again. "Wow, just how far back does this thing go?"

They all turned to look. The cave mouth wasn't all that big - tall enough to get through if you ducked, but not exactly welcoming, and it didn't let a lot of light in. Katara had figured there was a back wall somewhere in the blackness behind them.

But Sokka's voice was reverberating out of the darkness like he was at least a dozen yards away, and when Aang floated curiously off in the same direction, he just kept going instead of vanishing into a rock face. "Huh," Aang said.

Suki, who had been crouched down to offer corrections to Yue, stood and tapped one fan handle thoughtfully. "We need a light," she said, and ducked out, staying low to the ground; when she came back, she had a bundle of reasonably solid sticks in her hand, and when she'd wrapped some cloth around the ends and coaxed them into lighting, they made decent torches.

Katara lifted the one Suki handed her over her head, and immediately took a step back. "Whoa."

The size of the cave mouth had definitely been deceptive: the cave's roof curved up like the ceiling of a palace hall, and the passage looked wide enough and straight enough to stretch back well beyond the reach of the torch's light.

"So, pretty far, we're thinking," Sokka said, coming back out of the blackness to take a torch for himself. His fingers touched Suki's when he took it from her, and he coughed, sudden and awkward, like he'd accidentally breathed in too quickly. Katara tried not to smirk too much.

"Maybe all the way through," Yue said, and stepped forward, holding her own torch high against the dark.

***

Song helped Mother get the food settled, and then noticed how dim it was getting. Sure enough, when she went outside, the ostrich horses were back; they didn't need to be herded home in the evening, they came by themselves for a safe place to sleep. She closed the gate behind them, and latched it with a click. When she came back to the house, though, Lee was not inside; he was sitting on the step, gazing broodily at the ostrich horses in their pen.

"Not hungry?" Song said, sitting down beside him.

"Your mother's still cooking," Lee said, "and I don't drink much tea."

"Really?" Song said. She turned to look over her shoulder: Mother had left the door open to the mild evening air, and Mushi was cradling a cup with great tenderness. "Your uncle certainly loves it."

Lee snorted, and said nothing.

Song looked at him. She hadn't paid much attention to his face before - he hadn't been the one with the rash. But he did have a scar, a wide one that streaked back from his eye and over his temple. It was old, and it didn't look especially tight; but it was certainly noticeable. At least Song could cover hers up when she didn't want people to look at it.

"Did you lose your father, too?" she blurted, and then wanted to slap herself; she was curious, but that had been far from the best way to ask.

Lee went still, staring at the ostrich horses like they knew the answer, and where he was gripping the edge of the step, his knuckles went tight. "Why do you ask?" he said, without looking at her.

"Your - your scar," Song said, abashed. "You've been burned, haven't you? I mean, it looks like mine."

Lee turned at that, wide-eyed. "Yours?"

Song nodded, and lifted her hanbok a little, twisting her leg so he could see it. "I got it when I was little," she explained, "when the Fire Nation raided our village back east - that's when my father died. I thought maybe - since you're traveling with just your uncle-" Lee's face darkened; Song cleared her throat. "Um. Anyway. It was very bad; it got infected, and you can see how it goes into the muscle." She flexed her foot gently, feeling the familiar pull in her calf - it had been all right today, but too much more walking and the ache would have come back.

She glanced up: Lee was looking at it fixedly, brow furrowed. It did look bad, if you weren't used to it; it was thick and dark and her calf crumpled into it oddly. Song flushed, and let her skirt slide down again.

"It still hurts sometimes," she said hurriedly, to cover the sudden awkwardness. "There's good spells and bad spells - last spring I thought I was going to die, I could barely stand to walk on it." She peered a little more closely at Lee's cheek. "Yours is in pretty good shape, though."

Lee jerked in surprise. "Pretty good shape?" he echoed, almost bitterly.

"I didn't mean - it must have been awful," Song said apologetically, "especially over your eye like that. And people must stare all the time. But it has stopped hurting, hasn't it?"

Lee looked at her, swallowing, and said nothing; something about his expression made Song remember how she'd started this conversation, and she winced. Most scars stopped hurting, but there were other things that didn't.

***

Yue glanced behind her, and swallowed. It had been a while since the light of the cave entrance had faded away, but she could not stop looking. She was used to being under the clean sharpness of ice; even the thickest wall at home usually showed a little light on the other side. Rock was much more forbidding.

"I don't suppose you happen to have been drawing another map in your head," Sokka said to her, eyeing the tunnel ahead of them. "Because I have to admit, I have absolutely no idea where we are right now."

"I am afraid not," Yue said. The tunnel had turned and twisted many times, and they had chosen randomly at the first few intersections, before they had realized just how big a maze this was. Even keeping a hand on the wall, it could take weeks for them to follow every curve back out.

"Awesome," Sokka said. "What about you?"

Suki was frowning at the walls contemplatively, trailing her free hand along the stone. "Hmm?" she said distractedly.

"Are you feeling the urge to turn around and run screaming back the way we came, except we're lost so we'd all just panic and die alone in the dark?"

"... Not especially," Suki said, giving him a flat look; but then her expression turned thoughtful again. "This - this might be-" She cut herself off, and shook her head. "Never mind. I think we should keep going - we're about as likely to come out the other end as find our way back, and at least the other end doesn't have a Fire Nation camp."

"As far as we know," Sokka added.

"Yue and I both have our bending water," Katara said, "and the walls are pretty damp, if we run out. If we have to, maybe we could cut our way out."

She didn't sound particularly sure, and Yue could understand why: even filling a crack and freezing, water took a long time to break stone, and who knew how much they would have to get through before they would be out. But it was as good an option as hoping they could remember their way back, at this point. Which was not a terribly comforting thought; but Yue tried never to lie to herself.

"Well," Sokka said. "Onward and dankward it is, then."

***

"I'm so sorry, I should really just stop talking-"

"No, it's-" Lee paused and let out a breath. "My scar doesn't hurt anymore. You're right," he added slowly; "it did heal up well."

Song smiled at him, relieved. "That's the reason I knew about your uncle's rash."

"... Because my scar healed up well?"

Song laughed. "No, no - because I got mine. Because of what happened." She looked down at her lap, kneading her scarred calf absently. "I wanted to figure out how to make it hurt less, and I couldn't; but I could make other people stop hurting. I've learned everything there is to know from our herbalist - she taught me about white jade first thing, because so many people who aren't from around here get it confused with white dragon."

Lee laughed then, too; but the sound came out sharp and grim. "Funny," he said. "Mine made me want to make other people start hurting."

He looked like he expected her to recoil, and she almost smiled before she caught herself. "I understand," she said instead, very gently. She did: she remembered being eight and hideously angry, watching the other children run and laugh and wishing viciously that their legs would hurt them, too. "I just hope it doesn't happen again. A raid, I mean," she clarified, when Lee raised an eyebrow. "It's safer here than it is right next to the coast, but there are Fire Nation soldiers everywhere these days - especially after those rumors about the Avatar in Jindao."

Lee stiffened; in surprise, Song assumed.

"You hadn't heard?"

"I'd heard," Lee said roughly. "I - hadn't realized word had spread so far."

"Oh - well, we get a lot of traders coming through from the city," Song said. "I just hope we don't have to move again. It was so hard the first time."

"Because of your leg," Lee said.

"Well, yes, that was probably part of it," Song said. "I don't remember it very well; I was very small, and I had a fever for part of the way. But my mother-" She bit her lip. It was unkind, to burden this boy with her worries when he was obviously carrying enough of his own. "It was very hard," she said at last. "And with the army moving east, it's only a matter of time until they reach us." She tapped her feet against the step, and listened to the ostrich horses honking at each other.

"Maybe they won't," Lee said into the quiet. "Maybe they'll pass you by this time."

Song smiled. Lee was an awfully sweet boy. "It's such a waste, isn't it?" she said, instead of telling him he was wrong. "This whole war. We've been fighting for a hundred years, and it hasn't gotten us anywhere. What could possibly be worth that?" She sighed. "Sometimes I think we're only still doing it because we've forgotten how to stop."

"I - don't know," Lee said, his voice so low Song could barely hear it, and then, abruptly, he stood up. "I think your mother's finished," he said, and went inside without another word.

***

Sokka rubbed his hip and made a face at the wall. Stupid wall. It shouldn't have been standing where he had been trying to walk.

It was totally impossible to tell how long they'd been in here, but he was pretty sure it had been too long - and not just because he was tired of stumbling around in a dank tunnel. His torch was visibly shorter than it had been when they'd started out, flames creeping slowly closer to his knuckles, and he doubted they were much closer to getting out of here than they had been an hour ago.

He pinched the bridge of his nose blearily. Was it actually as late as it felt like, or did it just feel like nighttime because it was so dark? "Please tell me we're going to find a spot to sleep soon," he said.

"I think 'find' might be the wrong word," Suki said, "but maybe there'll be a cavern along here somewhere." She was still frowning at the walls a little, like they were familiar but not enough for her to know the way.

Suki was magic, Sokka was pretty sure; it was barely five minutes before their torchlight tumbled around a corner in the wall, which turned out to be an opening that led into a cave. Another cave, anyway. A cave inside a cave? Sokka shook his head.

It was a relief to step into it, and not just because it probably meant they were going to get to sleep soon; the floor was flat, which made a wonderful change from the rough, lumpy bottom of the tunnel. Sokka didn't realize how tense his ankles had been until they suddenly weren't anymore.

He let out a long breath and sat, and Katara dropped down next to him with a thump. Yue was too careful to thump, but she folded herself up and leaned against the cave wall with a sigh. And Suki - Suki was still walking around.

Sokka made a face. Didn't she ever get tired?

He levered himself up again, careful to keep his sputtering torch out of his face. She was standing by the wall, holding her torch close as she peered at something - written on it? Sokka couldn't tell, he was too far away.

He lifted his torch a little higher, and blinked. Come to think of it, the wall she was standing by was very flat; and the pair of rocks he had to slide between to get to her were weirdly shaped, smooth and even and exactly the same length. He turned, when he got to the end, and bent down with his torch to get a better look - and then he leaped back, yelping.

"Sokka? What is it?" Katara had jumped to her feet at the noise.

"A face - right there, there's a dead guy in the rock!" Sokka said, and then paused. "Like, an actual, physical dead guy, this time."

"Shu," Suki said, nonsensically.

Katara and Yue had both come closer to look; now all three of them turned.

"... Has the air gone bad in here or something?" Sokka said.

"It's Shu," Suki said. She was still looking at the wall, but now she took a step back and raised her torch, and Sokka realized abruptly that the wall face was carved into shapes: two people kneeling, a man and a woman, and over Suki's head, their stone lips were touching.

His face went so hot it was a wonder his hair didn't catch on fire.

"Shu?" Katara repeated.

"And Oma," Suki said. She turned around, and held her torch over the other rock - the other tomb, that is - and, sure enough, there was a woman's face carved into it, just like the man's face on the first one.

They all looked at her blankly.

"Haven't any of you ever heard the - no, of course you haven't," she interrupted herself, and laughed. "I didn't know about the moon and the ocean; why should you know about Oma and Shu?"

Sokka frowned. The names were making him think of something, but it wasn't a story-

"Omashu," Yue said suddenly.

Suki nodded. "The legend tells how the city got its name. We're so close to the city, and these tunnels are so deep - but I didn't think they could possibly be the same ones. It would be like we'd-"

"Stumbled across the sacred pool where the moon and ocean live in fish form?" Sokka said.

"Yes," Suki said, giving him a flat look that quickly cracked into a smile, "something like that."

He smiled back at her for a second, until he remembered they were standing in front of a giant stone kiss and had to find somewhere else to look.

"Oma and Shu were the first Earthbenders," Suki said, "or so the legend tells. Oma was from a village to the east of the mountains; Shu was from the west. There were tales in the old days of treasure in the hills, and their villages fought bitterly over the right to it - but Oma and Shu met as they were wandering the forest."

"And fell in love?" Katara said, a little dreamily.

Suki looked a little sheepish. "Well, the way my mother tells it, Oma thought Shu was a bandit and kicked him in the face, the first time," she said. "But eventually, yes. It was dangerous for them to travel the hills, when a battle might break out at any moment; but they were desperate to see each other. They found caves in the mountains, and the badger moles who lived there - they learned how to Earthbend by watching the badger moles, and they made themselves a path through the mountains." She paused and shook her head. "Even if we'd turned around, we never would have gotten out - badger moles are always tunnelling, the connections between the tunnels must change all the time."

"Oh, excellent," Sokka said. "So we really are trapped in here forever?"

"Wait a minute - how does the story end?" Katara said.

"Shu was killed," Suki admitted. "Oma used her bending to defeat the soldiers in both villages, and forced them to stop fighting - she founded Omashu right between them, and they put the story in the city's name so they would never forget. And no, we're not trapped in here forever: the story's the answer." She took Yue's torch in her free hand; there was a little canal of water carved out of the rock in front of the giant kissing statues, and she dunked the lit end of the torch in with a hiss.

"Hey - what are you doing?" Sokka demanded.

"Getting us out," Suki said, dousing Katara's torch the same way. She turned to him next; he clutched his torch protectively.

"Getting us out with death," Sokka said. "Seriously, how is this helping?"

Suki smiled at him, slow and a little uneven. "My mother always ended the story the same way," she said. "I didn't understand it then, but now I think I do." She reached out, and he'd brought the torch so close that her knuckles touched his chest when she wrapped her hand around it. "Love shines brightest in the dark," she said, very low, and slid the torch easily from his suddenly weak grasp.

"Um," Sokka said raspily; and then she doused both the remaining torches at once, and plunged them into darkness.

***

Zuko had been hoping to hate it; anger and disgust would have been a welcome anchor. But the food was delicious, and Mi-sun was a generous host. By the time the table was cleared, Zuko was so full the thought of walking made him grimace, and Uncle Iroh didn't seem any more eager to go.

"You should stay," Song said, over a final cup of tea. "It's already so dark - how far could you possibly get? And you'll need a place to sleep no matter what."

Zuko grimaced. He should know better than to let Uncle acquiesce; this was no time to linger self-indulgently, when Azula might come for them at any moment. But his belly was full and his mind was clouded, and when Uncle glanced at him, he looked down at his bowl and said nothing.

He regretted it almost the moment he woke the next morning: when he sat up to stretch out the night's aches, he saw it. The sky to the north held a rising column of smoke, and his heart began to pound at the sight of it.

Mi-sun had laid down mats for them in the main room, so it was easy enough to keep an eye on the window while he collected his things. There was yelling, growing steadily louder, from the same direction as the path back to town - but Azula, Zuko thought suddenly, would never allow her soldiers to be so undisciplined.

He paused and looked up. There were soldiers visible now, at the far end of the path, morning sunlight gleaming on red armor - but that was all. No flag, no royal insignia. It was not Azula.

He stared down at his hands, which were clutching his pack tightly. It was not Azula; these soldiers were not looking for them. They could go, now, and keep whatever head start they had left. It was eminently reasonable. He should keep going, not stand here thinking about the scar on Song's leg, or the way she'd looked when she'd said she understood him.

Something, some small sound or motion, made Zuko turn around. Uncle had woken at some point, and was sitting up, watching him. He had that look on his face - that patient, measuring look, like he had all the time in the world to wait and see what Zuko would do.

Zuko gritted his teeth. He was being a fool. Azula would laugh, to see his indecision.

But indecision made the choice for him - the yelling must have woken Song. Before Zuko could even figure out what he wanted to say in the face of Uncle's expectant stare, she came dashing in, bare feet thumping against the wood floor. "The ostrich horses!" she cried, and threw herself out the door.

Zuko didn't decide to follow; his feet simply went without asking. Song was right to worry: the animal pen was between the house and the trees, near the path, and the soldiers already had their swords out.

Song reached the gate first, and yanked it open - the ostrich horses were all honking nervously, but they hadn't panicked yet, and they made no move to run. "Come on," Song yelled, and darted in. "Come on, go!"

The nearest ostrich horse shifted uncertainly. Song hurried toward it, ready to scare it into action - better to have to round them up later than buy replacements, Zuko assumed - but the nearest soldier was already lining up her hands, fire blooming at her fingertips.

Zuko cursed his own stupidity even as he lifted his hands, and the fireball that he threw collided with the soldier's in a whirl of flame, both of them missing Song's head by at least two feet.

Zuko could hear Song gasp even from several yards away, but he could not take the time to look over and evaluate her expression; the soldier was advancing on him, and she hurled flame at his head with a whirling kick. He blocked it with a spinning shield, and then sent fire streaming back at her, three punches in a row - she dodged the first two perfectly, but the third caught her shoulder, and she tumbled back with an angry cry.

Another was coming up toward his side, and Zuko turned a little too late; but the man was already stumbling, the back of his uniform smoking where Uncle had blasted him from the front step.

Mi-sun was behind Uncle, a sword clutched in both hands, and she rushed forward, stabbing down through the man's back before he could get up. There was a terrible look on her face, an old and festering anger rising, and she yanked the bloody sword back out and didn't look a bit sorry.

Zuko threw another gout of flames with his next punch, forcing a third soldier to duck or burn, and then spun into a kick that caught the man in the gut. It was almost pleasant, to act without thinking, without having to make any choice more difficult than where to move next; and Zuko was almost sorry to see the soldiers slow.

He should have expected it. They were not infantry, but raiders, meant to strike weak targets quickly, to burn villages and slaughter animals and wreak destruction. They had not come for a fight. At one soldier's shout, three of them launched streams of flame at the house to cover their retreat, and then they were gone again, lost among the trees.

Uncle had managed to turn half of the fire away, but some had struck its target, and for a moment the only sound was the crackle of the wall that had been struck as it burned. Mi-sun's bloody sword was still raised uncertainly, like she wasn't sure whether she ought to plunge it into Uncle's side; and Uncle, because he was an idiot, was simply standing there, looking at her calmly.

She stared at him, and then suddenly lifted the sword away, tilting it back so that it rested on her shoulder; a thin line of blood soaked into the clean white shoulder of her dress. She squeezed her eyes shut, and let out a slow breath. "I am sorry," she said, very quietly. "Can you forgive me?"

Uncle reached up to touch her shoulder gently, and then stepped away and around the house, crushing the fire away with a methodical sweep of his hands.

Zuko turned. Song was still behind him, one hand resting on an ostrich horse's side, staring at him with wide eyes. What she thought did not matter, Zuko knew, but he could not convince himself to move; he only stood there like a fool, waiting.

"You-" Song said, and then stopped abruptly, drawing a quick breath. "Your hand is burned."

Zuko blinked and looked down. It was true: the side of his hand was blistered. That first soldier's kick - he must not have managed to block the flame completely.

When he looked up again, Song was watching Uncle damp the fire at the far corner of the wall into smoke, but the moment Zuko moved, she looked at him again. She swallowed, and then her expression firmed into determined lines. "Let me clean it," she said, "and wrap it up."

Zuko hesitated.

"Quickly," Song said, looking over her shoulder at the sky. "The village is still burning; we should hurry."

*

He let her lead him back inside and clean his hand with water; it wasn't until she was tucking the loose end of the makeshift bandage under that he suddenly realized just what she had said.

"Hurry?" he said. "What do you mean?"

"You're - Firebenders," Song said, awkward, a little uncertainty caught around the edges of her voice. "Your uncle, the way he put out that fire on the wall - not even an Earthbender can put a fire out that quickly. And dumping rocks on a building doesn't help if there are people inside it." She fixed him with a look that was almost pleading.

"You're planning to go toward that?" Zuko said, pointing with his uninjured hand to the thickening column of smoke in the sky. "And if the soldiers are still there? What will you do then?"

"Stop them," Song said, which was one of the more ridiculous things Zuko had heard in his life. Mi-sun might have a sword, and clearly knew how to use it; but Zuko was having serious trouble picturing Song killing anybody.

But her mouth was pressed into a tight flat line, and she was, forgetfully, gripping his bandaged hand so hard it stung.

"You're Fire Nation," she said. "I saw you, I understand; but that scar on your face is still from a burn, I can tell. Whoever you really are, whatever you're running from, it must be complicated."

Zuko snorted despite himself. That was something of an understatement.

"But I don't think this is complicated," she continued. "There are people back in town who are suffering for no good reason, and you can save them. Don't you want to?"

No, Zuko thought, suddenly panicked; but he couldn't make his mouth say it. Whatever it was that was wrong in him, the thing Father and Azula saw so clearly, this stupid girl had somehow figured out how to make it worse. "They won't want me to," he said instead, forcing it out through the tightness in his throat.

Song eyed him askance for a moment, and then smiled, lopsided. "I think they might be willing to accept it if the other option is burning to death," she said, and dragged him out the door.

***

Mushi and Mother were already waiting at the head of the path, under the trees; one of them had relatched the gate to the ostrich horses' pen, and Mother had wiped her sword clean, bloody streaks on her skirt showing where. "Quickly," Mother said, and they hurried into the woods.

It was almost surreal - it was quiet in the forest, calm, morning sun still a little gold through the leaves, and the only sign that anything was wrong was the smoke that still spiraled up ahead of them.

By the time they reached Leungnok, the soldiers were all gone; but they had left a cluster of burning houses behind them, soot-streaked people screaming in the street. Mushi stepped toward the nearest house with his hands upraised, and drew flames away from the door and into the dirt.

"No - no, they're back," Kyung cried, "they're back!" She was kneeling in the dirt a few strides away, sleeves blackened and flaking, and she hurled herself at Mushi with a shout.

Song darted forward and caught her before she could reach him. "Stop," she said loudly, "stop, he's putting it out," and she repeated it until Kyung stopped fighting her and went limp in her arms with a sob. She turned to face the street, everyone who had looked up when Kyung had shouted and was now watching Mushi with hostile eyes, and said it again. "He's helping us - don't anyone touch him, he's putting it out."

She could see Lee out of the corner of her eye, standing tense and silent at her shoulder; but Mushi seemed to take no notice whatsoever, and bent with careful motions of his hands until all the flames were gone.

Kyung was still in her arms, with a nasty burn along her forearm that Song needed to take a look at - and she couldn't do it with Lee standing there looming. "Well?" she said. "Don't make your uncle do it all alone."

"Song," he said, but she didn't let him finish.

"Put out that fire," she said, and to her own ears it was the sharpest she had ever heard her voice sound. "You can help them, but you aren't. Put out that fire, or you'll make them right to look at you like that."

Lee took a startled step back. Song drew Kyung down to kneel on the ground and started rolling up her sleeve; but she could hear Lee over her shoulder, drawing in a breath, and the crackle of flames began to grow quieter.

***

It took a long time for the villagers to stop watching him warily, but there were a lot of fires to put out; Zuko focused on his hands and tried not to look around, and soon enough they were busying themselves with recovering the wounded from the houses he'd extinguished. They still looked at him strangely, he could see it - but they let him alone. When the last flames had died away, the woman who had leapt at Uncle brought them each a bowl of rice. Her eyes were not friendly, but she also did not stab them with the chopsticks.

Song seemed to know when their bowls were almost empty; she came and knelt down beside him just as he was fishing the last hunk of rice out of the bottom of his. "Thank you," she said. "I - I'm sorry I yelled at you, before. I do know what a risk it was for you to come into town with us like that, and Firebend in front of everyone." She touched the back of his hand gently. "It was good of you."

Zuko stared down at his knees, and could think of absolutely nothing to say.

She went away, after a minute; but then she came back again, and this time she wasn't alone. "These are for you," she said to Uncle, indicating the two ostrich horses beside her with a wave of her hand.

"You are far too generous," Uncle began, reaching for the small purse at his belt, but Song shook her head.

"They're a gift," she said gently. "Please, just take them," and she handed the reins to Uncle Iroh. "To help you on your journey, wherever it is you're going," she added, and smiled.

***

"I still can't believe it," Sokka said. "I mean, seriously. How do you get from 'love shines brightest in the dark' to 'blow out all your torches and you'll be able to see the phosphorescent rocks on the ceiling that'll show you how to get out of here'?"

"Well, I thought about kissing you to see if that would do it," Suki said blandly, "but that seemed a little too literal."

She was careful not to turn around, but that next sound was pretty definitely Sokka choking helplessly on his own tongue, and she couldn't help smiling. Katara, in front of her, shot Suki a narrow-eyed look over her shoulder, but she was smiling, too.

They weren't quite out yet, but they were definitely close; there was light shining around the corner ahead of them. Dim and reddish and indirect - it was evening, then, which meant they'd been in the tunnels for at least a day. It had been so hard to tell, inside, except by the rumbling of their stomachs. And no one had felt hungry when they'd thought they were lost - they hadn't felt comfortable enough to eat until after the glowing trail on the ceiling had appeared.

Even if it had only been an hour, though, it would have been a relief to step out into open air, and even Yue did a little twirl in celebration. "I thought I might never see the sky again," she said to Suki, and kept her face turned up to it even as they started along the path ahead of them.

This side of the mountains was rockier, steeper, and Suki had to pay attention or else fall on her face, which was why she didn't look up until Katara said, "Oh, no, no - you have to be kidding."

"What?" Suki said, lifting her head, and then she saw.

They were not quite into the foothills, and there was a rocky hill ahead of them - Omashu, Suki knew it, because it was the only city in the area. Carved from the hilltop by Earthbending, with a wall raised from the stone around it; and draping over the wall, so large they could see them even from here, were great red banners, setting sun glinting off the gold thread that outlined the three-pronged flame.

"Well, that's a bad sign," Sokka said.

***

"Sir!" the lookout shouted. "Sir, ships ahoy!"

Mizan glanced out the front panes of the bridge, and sighed. It was something of a relief to hear it; whether the ships were friendly or not, they were something, and meant there would soon be a clear decision to make.

Mizan did not much care for aimlessness, but there had not been many other options available, in the days since they had fled Port Tsao. Princess Azula would not have stood for their presence; and the port authorities would not have dealt kindly with them for firing their weapons within the port's borders, never mind that both ships involved had been Fire Nation. She did not know where General Iroh and Prince Zuko were planning to go - she did not even know whether they had a plan, and it seemed more than likely that they did not.

She did not wish to abandon them to their fates; she liked General Iroh, even if he served far too much tea. And she shuddered to think what trouble they would get into without someone to get them out. But she had no way to follow them, and nowhere else worth going - not with only one ship. She was her own master now, and Azula would not deal with her kindly, which meant they were no longer a Fire Nation ship in any way that counted; but she would not siege Jindao or storm Da Su-Lien with only one ship.

She stepped out of the bridge, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the setting sun. "What kind?" she shouted.

"Not sure," Isani yelled back, but a little more slowly. "The sun is behind them, it's difficult to see-" She cut herself off, and Mizan glanced up: Isani was still squinting through the spyglass, and she was too far up for her expression to be readable. "I think they may be pirates, sir," she called down at last, tone almost dry.

Mizan could understand why. Pirates, of all things - probably Earth Kingdom, this close to the coast. They were practically on the same side, now that Azula had declared them all criminals and traitors; but the pirates wouldn't know it.

She prepared as best she could. She turned the ship so as to present their narrow and heavily-armored bow to the oncoming vessels; and she kept the crew on deck, ready for action, but let the catapults lie conspicuously empty and untouched. She was hoping to talk to them, but she wasn't a fool.

The ships slowed as they drew closer. There were three of them, light fast sailing vessels, and they were wooden - definitely Earth Kingdom. Cautious, which Mizan could understand. Her ship was clearly of Fire Nation design, but they were not flying a Fire Nation banner anywhere, and the usual red armor was stifling at this latitude; most of the crew was wearing brown.

"An unusual reception," someone called across, when the lead ship was close enough. "We cannot tell by looking - what is your allegiance?"

"Oh, and I should tell you why? So you will know whether or not to sink me?" Mizan shouted back. "Fine incentive."

The sailor laughed; it was not very audible, but quite visible as the ship came up alongside. "True enough," she yelled. "I see this is a matter for the captain." She went below, and came back up with a man in rather plain clothes, completely indistinguishable from anyone else on deck.

"A Fire Nation ship that flies no colors," he called. "Who do you serve?"

Mizan laughed. "No one, at the moment," she said. "You are pirates, are you not?"

Something flitted over the captain's face, but Mizan could not pick out quite what expression it was. "Something of the sort," he said.

"And you could use a decent ship," she said, tone neutral.

"Sir," Isani said; she had climbed down from the lookout's perch, and now she put a hand on Mizan's shoulder. "Sir, what are you doing?"

"Keeping us alive for a while, I hope," Mizan murmured. To the pirate captain, she shouted, "Surely a steamship would be a fine addition to your fleet."

The captain said nothing for a long moment, and Mizan was tempted to signal for the catapults to be loaded; but at last, he yelled back, "I cannot test your intentions from here. But I do not work alone - we sail from Dou Ying Island, with many other ships like these. We will take you there, and see whether you can be trusted."

"I hope you're thinking this through, sir," Isani said.

"Oh, I am," Mizan said, and smiled. She could not stop Princess Azula from tracking Iroh and Zuko down; but there were a thousand other ways to be a hindrance, and Mizan suspected it was time to try some of them.

---

Back to Top

Chapter Four: Omashu

Yin looked out over the harbor and drew in a long breath. Undoubtedly there was no real difference in the air, no true distinction to be drawn between the wind in the colonies and the wind that swept Phnan Chnang. But it felt different anyway, to be here to breathe it.

"I'd offer to turn in your reports, sir," Kishen said, "but I think your news of the Avatar will mean they'll want to talk to you personally."

"Yes," Yin said, "of course."

"There will be time," Kishen said.

Yin turned to look at him over her shoulder. He was watching her, thoughtful, with a very small smile.

"If they plan to send us back to the Earth Kingdoms, as they undoubtedly do, we will likely be given cargo to transport - tanks, soldiers, supplies." He shrugged. "It will take time to organize, to record, to tally, to load. There will be time for you to go home, sir."

"Duty first," Yin said; and she managed to make her tone stern, but she could feel a smile creeping onto her mouth.

"Of course, sir," Kishen said, perfectly straight-faced, and bowed.

*

Yin's conversation with the admiral was less awkward than she had been expecting; the man was like a stone wall, and though he must have been shocked to hear her report of the Avatar's presence, he never looked it. He listened attentively and took her report with a cursory bow, and the only sign of any distress was the irregular twitch in the back of his hand.

Of course, they were not in the colonies anymore - there were more eyes on him than there had been on Admiral Shalah, and to express vocal dismay at the Avatar's return was to doubt the Fire Lord's power, in a certain sense. Yin had been mindful, too, when she had written down her observations. She had been careful not to stray far from the physical facts, and those were well in the Fire Lord's favor: the Avatar was a girl, perhaps sixteen, with some Waterbending ability and no apparent control over her other powers. That she was strong and skilled and felt her responsibilities keenly - these things were merely Yin's opinion, and had no place in a formal report.

She had Kishen pass along orders for shore leave to be given. He was right, there would be time; everyone would welcome the opportunity. Besides, even without counting the commandeered ships that would now be returning to their previous posts, Yin commanded nearly a hundred vessels, and over half their crews called the eastern islands home. Which was not unusual, in the Navy: enlistment was a common choice in the islands, if you were too poor to travel to the mainland, and Yin had been far from the only girl in her village to enlist rather than marry early.

It had been so long, she thought to herself, swinging a leg over Kiri's back. Phirun would be - nineteen? Was that even possible? He might be taller than she was, now. And Bopha - Bopha would be eighteen at least. She had cried the day Yin had left, Yin remembered suddenly, and the thought struck something in Yin's chest like a hammer falling.

If she wasn't careful, she was going to end up crying all over Mother.

***

"I don't get it," Sokka said. "If the Fire Nation already has Omashu, then what were all those catapults back there about?"

"It didn't go quietly," Suki said, and pointed. "Look. Down there, across the bridge - that's not a Fire Nation camp."

She was right, Katara could tell: nobody built makeshift structures out of stone unless they were Earthbenders.

"Oh, I see. So the city's full of Fire Nation soldiers, and they're surrounded by Earthbenders trying to retake Omashu, and they're surrounded by Fire Nation soldiers trying to stop them." Sokka threw up his hands. "It all makes sense now."

*

The tunnel had come out relatively close to Omashu; the Fire Nation might have had the west side of the mountains covered, but they had not taken the east, and it was a short and quiet trip to the level ground around the city.

Omashu reminded Katara a little of the Southern Air Temple, the way it had been shaped out of the stone, but it was much easier to get to. The nearby land was hilly, but there were ridges whose tops had been flattened - by Earthbending, no doubt - and the nearest of these was connected to the city by at least two bridges that spanned the ravine between.

"Easy to defend," Suki said assessingly.

"But also easy to siege," Yue pointed out. "It is not like Kanjusuk, where we could flee back across the ice. Earthbenders could tunnel out easily, and you would never know it; but for Firebenders, it is a cage."

"Very true," someone else said, a woman, and Katara had already begun to nod before she noticed that the voice was neither Suki's nor Yue's.

"Who - ack!"

Katara whirled around. There was indeed a woman there, dressed in worn clothes with a green band in her hair; and she had an arm around Sokka's throat, and at least half a dozen other people behind her.

"It is a long way from Kanjusuk," the woman said, eyeing the medallion that hung from Yue's pike. "Who would travel so far to get to the middle of a war?"

Aang, hovering by Katara's shoulder, sighed. "It's like people think we don't know we're in danger," he said, and he sounded so much like Sokka that Katara had to work to keep a smile off her face.

Here we go again, she thought. "The Avatar," she said aloud, because the woman was still waiting for an answer, and bowed.

*

The explanation was, as always, long, but Katara thought she might be getting better at delivering it - she was more sure of herself now, and that helped immensely. "I've come to find a master to teach me Earthbending," she finished, and bowed again, just in case it might help. "Could you - maybe let my brother go?"

Granted, the woman wasn't holding his throat very tightly anymore; her grip had loosened at about the same rate that her eyebrows had climbed her forehead as she listened to Katara. But Sokka was still making a face that suggested he was getting less air than he wanted to.

The woman eyed her. "How did you get here through the Fire Nation camps," she said, "if you are their enemy?"

Suki stepped forward. "We came through the Cave of Two Lovers," she said. "We stumbled across the other end; and when we found the tomb in the middle, I knew we had found the caves from the legend."

The woman looked measuringly at Suki. "You are from the Earth Kingdoms?"

"The southern islands," Suki said. "It hasn't been that long since we were broken away from you. We haven't forgotten everything."

The woman watched her a moment longer, and then slowly unwound her arm from Sokka's neck; he stumbled away, and had to clear his throat once, but Katara was pretty sure he hadn't actually been hurt. "Well," she said, "you were wise to come here to look for a master. King Bumi is the best Earthbender in Omashu, and his skills are legendary throughout Gamban."

"Great," Sokka said. "So he's in your camp down there, then?"

The woman pursed her lips. "Unfortunately, no." She gestured toward the city, the great red banners hanging over the walls, and Katara's heart began to sink even before she said, "When I said the best Earthbender in Omashu, I meant it."

***

Taneko was sorry to say it, and watched with sincere regret as the Avatar's face fell. Many rumors had come down to them from the north, so she had not been surprised to hear the girl say she was the Avatar - or at least not as much as she might have been only a year ago. Whether it was true, Taneko did not know; but the girl had to be either honest to a fault or else mad, to be willing to call herself the Avatar when she traveled along the edges of Fire Nation territory.

And if it was true, and this was the same girl everyone was speaking of, she had traveled a very long way indeed to find nothing but disappointment.

Taneko hesitated before she spoke again. She did not wish to take advantage of the Avatar's desperation, but any potential for aid could not be ignored. "However, Avatar, your timing is auspicious. It is difficult for us, without our king - but the Fire Nation has imprisoned him in metal, and we cannot get him out. We have tried, more than once, and lost many in the attempts."

"What, and you want us to do it?" the boy said, incredulous.

"No," Taneko said. "We have a new plan now, and I want you to help." She remembered herself, and bowed. "That is, if you are willing, Avatar."

***

It was strange, the little things that had changed. The old tree Yin had climbed when she wanted to get away from Khunna's constant nagging had lost its top in a storm; and the big old rock the road was forced to curve around had acquired a broad crack in the top - moss was starting to grow out of it.

But the house looked the same - so much the same that Yin's eyes turned wet at the sight of it, and when Mother came to the door, Yin had to blink six times before she was anything more than a blur.

Mother was still for a long moment, just looking at her; but then, at last, she smiled. "You always did come home just in time for supper," she said, and laughed.

*

Khunna was married, of course - she had been before Yin had left, that was no surprise. She lived with her husband only a little further down the road, but they had gone into the city to market, and would not be back for another few days. "She will be so angry to have missed you," Mother said, shaking her head.

Phirun and Bopha were down in the lower field, but the sun was dropping low, and soon enough something loud and grabby hit Yin in the back as she was turning to carry her pack inside. "You never tell us when you're coming," Bopha said grumpily into Yin's shoulderblade, arms tight around her ribs; and then they both went down under Phirun's weight.

A true enough complaint, Yin thought, trying to keep her face out of the dirt. But this made only the second time she had been home since she enlisted - Bopha did like to exaggerate.

"Oh, let her up," Mother called from inside, and they untangled themselves sheepishly and dusted each other off. Phirun was taller, quite a bit - but Yin still had an inch on him. She took the opportunity to muss his hair, which he had always hated; and he must truly have missed her, because he smiled instead of shoving her hand away.

*

Supper was nothing special, in the strictest sense; Mother had not known to prepare anything exceptional. But there had been times, sitting in Jindao or sailing north with Zhao, when Yin would have eaten dirt if she could only have done it here.

It was foolish, Yin knew, but everything here seemed so pleasant, so quiet and untouched - it made her reluctant to ruin it by telling them everything that had happened. She was sitting here with her mother, eating rice from her own old bowl; compared to that, watching from the deck of her own flagship as the spirit of the ocean dropped a wave on her head seemed simply unreal, like it had happened in another world entirely.

But then Mother set down her bowl and said, "We should follow Khunna, in another day or two - it has been a long time since we have traded in the city," and across the low table, Phirun and Bopha grew quiet.

"Do we have to?" Phirun said, and he sounded so like his twelve-year-old self that Yin almost laughed - but his next words wiped the smile from her face. "Mother, you haven't forgotten what happened last time we went to Phnan-"

"What happened-" Yin interrupted, but Bopha cut her off with a bitter little chuckle.

"Phnan," she spat, heavy with sarcasm, "whatever do you mean? It's Funing."

"Bopha," Mother said, less sharply than Yin was expecting. "We will need water, to rinse the dishes."

"Of course, Mother," Bopha said, pursing her lips, and stood up.

*

Bopha and Phirun had spent a long day in the fields; they, Phirun pointed out, had not had an ostrich horse to carry them around. They brought back the water, and then went to lie down on their mats, and despite their best efforts, Mother was barely done with the first bowl before Bopha began to snore.

"What happened in the city?" Yin said quietly, passing Mother a pair of chopsticks.

"Small things," Mother said. "Nothing you have not seen before; but the last time we went to the city, they were too young to notice."

Yin bit her lip. She still remembered the first time it had occurred to her that the central district housed nobles - nobles who were all from the mainland. It had been about three seconds before the first time she had realized that the guards were not there because of the war; they were there to keep people like her out.

"You know the things they say," Mother said suddenly into the quiet, setting the clean chopsticks aside to dry. "You must hear them constantly, as we do. The war will bring harmony; when all are united under the Fire Lord, there will be peace at last." She turned the second bowl over, dipping it again into the basin of washwater. "Unity." She shook her head.

"You don't think it is possible?" Yin said carefully.

Mother set the bowl down, but did not pick up another; she leaned her forearms against the rim of the basin, and her hands curled into loose fists. "I don't think it is the truth," she said. "Perhaps you have not heard, in the colonies - they renamed the great city on Svay Vinouk again. After the monument to the Fire Lord. The Fire Fountain."

Yin could not hold back a snort. The city of Batampong had been officially renamed North Chungling long before even Mother had been born, and Yin had learned, as all the children on the nearby islands did, to call it North Chungling if a mainlander was near. The habit had become constant in the Navy, where the officers were more often from the central mainland than not; but she had never cared for the name herself, and Fire Fountain City was even worse. "It's like they think all they have to do is repaint the map, and we will forget," she said.

"Perhaps we will, if they do it long enough," Mother said, and she sounded suddenly very tired. "Phirun and Bopha - they have learned to be angry, but not how to hide it, and they do not remember everything."

The purges, Mother meant, that had taken Father from them; Bopha had been only a few months old, Phirun barely two.

Yin had been eleven.

"And I," Mother said, "I am angry, too; and tired of hiding it. I remember." Her hands curled tighter. "They say unity, but they do not mean it. They mean uniformity."

Funing Chang, Yin remembered Admiral Shalah saying, dropping the p and twisting the city's name until it sounded as mainland as anything else. And then I understand - from the north, she had said, and her name bore it out. Had the cities there had different names, too, long ago? Did the people there still use them under their breath, still tell them to their children, or had they forgotten?

"They have been trying it on the islands for centuries, and it has brought us only pain." Mother dipped her fists into the water. "And after a hundred years of war, they think the Earth Kingdoms will abide it so readily?"

"They won't," Yin said, thinking of Jindao. She had been posted there with Zhao for longer than she cared to remember; and even in the darkest hours, when news had sometimes come every other day of another Earth Kingdom village swallowed by flames, the whispers of rebellion had never stopped. It had irritated Zhao intensely at the time.

"No," Mother agreed. "They won't."

***

Father was still talking, but Mai was no longer listening - it didn't matter anyway, he neither expected nor wanted a response from her.

He was barely even saying anything, nattering on about the situation in the city and the weakness of the siege - and Mother was clutching Tom-Tom to herself and nodding along like everything that came out of Father's mouth wasn't a blatant untruth.

Father insisted on these walks. They were pointless, in Mai's opinion; they never ventured below the upper avenues of the city, so the ordinary citizens Father was hoping to reassure with his confidence probably couldn't even see them. And it didn't help that they were relentlessly boring.

Mai wished later that she were able to say she'd known it was coming, but, to be honest, she was just searching for something interesting to look at - she didn't realize that the oddly-shaped leaf hanging off the roof above her was the toe of someone's shoe until the guard in front of Father yelped and fell to the ground, and an Earthbender landed on his chest.

She had been practicing with her darts and her knives day in and day out since they had moved to New Ozai - she'd hated it at the time because there had been nothing else to do, but now, for a split second, she was grateful. Even as she flinched away, her hands were automatically going to her sleeves, and they came out with three darts each, pinned and ready between her knuckles.

She threw half at the shoe-toe, and was rewarded with a triple thunk and a yelp; but there were six more people jumping off the roof - seven - eight-

Mother curled Tom-Tom close with one hand and punched out with the other - she wasn't a Firebender, but she had an excellent right hook, and she caught one of the attackers right on the chin. Tom-Tom, still in her other arm, looked dazed by the sudden excitement and then burst into tears.

Mai swung around hurriedly toward Father. He had been knocked to the ground, the guards around him busy fending off more rebels. There was a woman standing over him, and Mai hurled her other three darts at her - or she was about to, at least, when an Earthbender suddenly slid the ground sideways under her foot, and her darts went wide. No matter, she thought; she had more.

She slid another six into her hands, and threw again; but this time they were struck in midair by a rope of water that threw them to the side before it splattered apart.

A Waterbender? Mai turned. Where had the Omashu rebels gotten a Waterbender?

No, two of them - two girls, Mai saw, a moment before the wide globe of water speeding toward her swallowed her. She had caught her breath a moment before, so she didn't waste time worrying. She was nearly out of darts, and they would be too light to make it through the water - but darts were not the only things she had up her sleeves. She had been trying this with fish in New Ozai's fountains for weeks now: she took aim through the water, adjusted for the curve of light, and threw.

She couldn't hear through the liquid, but she could see one of the girls cry out, the midsize blade deep in her arm, and the water wobbled and then dropped; Mai tumbled to the paving stones with it, and began to cough as it rolled away into the gutters.

The first thing she heard when her ears were empty again was Mother, screaming, "No!"

"Back, now!" one of the rebels cried over Mother's screeching, and though Mai dragged herself up far enough to hurl another set of darts after them, they did not find their targets - water was still streaming down Mai's face.

She rubbed at her face with her sleeve, irritated; but her shirt was soaked, too, so it didn't do much good. "Mother?" she said, briefly worried - but she could not see any blood, even though Mother wouldn't stop crying. "Father-" but he was all right, too. He had managed to get to his feet at some point, and his fists were still smoking.

"Mai," he said, and then she realized what was wrong.

Mother's arms were empty, and Mai could not hear Tom-Tom crying.

***

"Shh, shh, good boy," Suki muttered absently, curling a hand around the kid's head to keep him close. He was definitely at least a year old, maybe two, but very quiet - maybe he was still a little dazed.

The plan the rebels had outlined was simple enough. "New Ozai" had been appointed a Fire Nation governor in the early days after the attack, before those who had fled the city had organized themselves and begun their siege. He and his family took a stroll every evening - stupid thing to do in a city under siege, in Suki's opinion, but the governor hadn't asked her.

They hadn't wanted to kill him, only to take him, so that he could be traded for King Bumi; but there had been quite a few guards, and his daughter and her throwing darts had been an unexpected complication. Taneko had called them off when Yue had been struck - it would be easier to try again than to bring anyone back to life.

But Suki had managed to snatch the governor's son at the last moment; and now they were running.

"Where are we even going?" Sokka said beside her, breathless, and Suki glanced up.

The Earthbenders in the team had lifted them back up to the street above, where they'd come from; but they didn't seem to be heading back to the tunnel they'd come in by.

Taneko had heard him - she was looking back over her shoulder and grinning. "Trust me," she yelled, "this way will be faster," and then she leapt up onto the edge of a nearby wall and abruptly disappeared from view.

"Faster to get us where?" Sokka yelped.

"No, it's - there's a chute," Katara called back, and Suki, a step ahead of Sokka, could see that she was right. The Earthbender they had left behind hadn't just been guarding the tunnel entrance - she'd been preparing, and when Katara stepped up to the wall there was a cart waiting, fitted perfectly to the chute, and two more beside it.

"These are for you," the woman said, "because you cannot bend yourselves down - hurry!"

"Quick," said another woman - one of the nonbenders, Suki realized, and she climbed in and pulled Katara down to sit behind her. Another, a bender this time, slid in behind. He gave the first woman a sharp nod, and she pushed; and the cart rumbled away down the drop.

"Oh, no," Sokka said, shaking his head. "No, no, absolutely not-"

"No time," Suki said, and grabbed his hand.

Yue got in first; one of the Earthbenders was helping her, and despite the hand she had clamped around the throwing blade in her arm, blood was soaking her sleeve. Suki resolved to keep a close eye on her - she looked relatively steady, but losing blood was the kind of thing that snuck up on you, and a cart flying down a chute over a city wasn't a great place to pass out.

Suki would have gone last, but she had to keep the kid safe, so she squeezed herself into the middle with the kid on her lap and pulled Sokka in behind. "We're good," she told the Earthbender, and the woman nodded and gave them a shove before Sokka even had a chance to contradict her.

*

The chute system evidently covered the entire city - they could probably have gone anywhere, but one of the benders ahead of them had raised uneven walls across the chutes that branched away from their route, to channel them the right way. And it really wasn't so bad, after the first sickening drop was over; Sokka was just being dramatic. Although Suki couldn't say she minded him hiding his face in the back of her shoulder. Mikari would have made fun of her forever, Suki thought ruefully, if she were here.

They slowed as they neared the city wall, the angle of the chute flattening out steadily, and an Earthbender waiting at the bottom stopped them with a jerk that made Sokka's hand tighten on Suki's arm. The Earthbender had already punched a temporary staircase out of the wall, and in moments they were back on the ground.

*

"Well," Taneko said, once they had been ferried back across the ravine on a spur of rock. "Not quite what we were hoping for."

Suki glanced down at the kid in her arms; he had taken something of a shine to her fans, and was trying and failing to yank one out of her belt.

"Not the governor himself," one of the rebels conceded, "but surely the man would give much to have his son back-"

"He is not a thing to be bartered," Yue said, a little stiffly - mostly the pain, Suki guessed, since Yue was usually polite even when she was angry. Katara couldn't heal her arm without getting the blade out first, and it was slow going; the little knife curved back on itself like a barbed thorn.

"No," Taneko agreed, "he is a person to be bartered."

At that, both Yue and Katara shot her incredulous looks.

"You must understand," Taneko said. "This is the closest we have ever come to retrieving our king. We will not hurt the child; but if he is to be kept in good health and given back to his parents, why should he not be kept in good health, given back to his parents, and ensure our king's freedom?"

"Fair enough," Sokka admitted. "I mean, we went in there to take the guy. So, um, now what?"

"We wait," Taneko said. "The governor will make an offer; we need only wait."

***

Katara bent over Yue's arm and worked the last inch of metal free, careful not to pull any harder than she had to.

It did make sense. She knew it did. It was like what she had told Aang, back in Hansing: nobody should have to kill other people - or steal their children and trade them back for captured kings - to stay alive, but they did have to, right now, because of the war. And if she wanted to stop it, she needed King Bumi.

It still left a bad taste in her mouth; but when Yue's arm was cleaned and fixed, Katara let herself turn around, and the kid was sitting on Suki's knee, folding and unfolding one of her fans and giggling happily. They'd keep him for a day or two, at most - and his parents might worry, but that was about the worst that would come of it.

When she looked up, Aang was watching her sympathetically, and he drifted briefly closer, like he'd bump her shoulder if he could only touch it. It was getting dark, which made the blue-tinged shine of him brighter by contrast - that was why Katara didn't see the girl behind him until she leapt through his face.

***

Ty Lee tried to land carefully, but people were so unpredictable when they were surprised, and she ended up planting a foot right in the Water Tribe boy's thigh. "Sorry!" she called back over her shoulder, because she was. That had probably hurt.

Azula was two steps ahead of her and not looking back, but Ty Lee could practically hear her roll her eyes. Eye-rolling was better than yelling, though, so Ty Lee was okay with it. She hated it so much when Azula yelled at her. It always made her feel so small inside.

She didn't know how other people could stand it. Azula had yelled for nearly half an hour at the generals in charge of the not-quite-siege, before she had decided they would simply break through the rebel lines themselves; Ty Lee would have been cringing in five minutes.

At least Samnang was there, too. He was smart like Mai, he could get away with interrupting Azula when she was being mean; and he was nice to Ty Lee sometimes even when Azula was angry with her, which was kind of risky. She was so glad Azula had thought to bring him - and now they were going to get Mai, too! This was going to be awesome.

Samnang didn't really do flips; he just ran fast. And Azula was using her bending to carry herself, the soles of her boots flaring with blue flame as she jumped.

They were quick, on their way to the bridge, but they'd lost the element of surprise, and one of the rebels tried to grab Azula's ankle; she clutched his hair in her hand and set it ablaze, and he fell back with a yelp.

Somebody else tried to raise a rock wall in front of them, but Ty Lee saw the ground trembling and hurled herself up, curling and twisting until she could land a foot on the top of it and launch herself off the other side. She loved the circus, and she had promised herself she'd go back once Azula had what she wanted; but she'd missed this. Even tough routines were always planned out, start to finish and every second in between.

She landed perfectly, both feet down without a bounce or a correction, and almost laughed - but they were nearly to the bridge, and once they'd crossed it, there would be plenty of time for that. So she settled for planting a foot on the first great stone of the bridge and throwing herself sideways into a cartwheel, just because she could.

*

New Ozai was a lovely city, Ty Lee thought; no wonder Azula's father had decided to name it after himself. If Ty Lee had a city like this she'd name it after herself in a second - or, if New Ty Lee didn't sound so clunky, she would.

The streets of New Ozai were set into the mountain's sides like terraces, winding up toward the peak where the governor's mansion stood. It was after curfew, and guards tried to stop them twice, but Azula flashed the royal seal at them angrily and they backed away. Ty Lee smiled at them, because they were really doing quite a good job; but they were so busy bowing they probably didn't see it.

It was kind of late, so Ty Lee wouldn't have been surprised if they'd had to wait until tomorrow to see Mai. But when they were shown into the governor's mansion, the lanterns were all still lit, and Mai was standing just outside the great hall, closing the door behind herself.

"Mai!" Ty Lee cried, and hurried forward to throw her arms around Mai's shoulders. It really had been too long.

"Ty Lee," Mai said quietly, and for a moment her arms were tight around Ty Lee's back, like clever, cool Mai actually wanted a hug.

Ty Lee was happy to oblige; but then Mai's grip loosened, and Ty Lee reluctantly got out of the way so Mai could bow to Azula.

"Oh, stop," Azula said, waving a hand, and wrapped her own arms briefly around Mai. "It's good to see you." Her voice had softened, and Ty Lee smiled. Azula could be so sweet sometimes.

"It's good to see you, too," Mai said. "And not for the usual reason."

Azula frowned. "Don't tell me this backwater is keeping you occupied," she said.

Mai pursed her lips. "It wasn't, until this evening. You must have seen the resistance out there, on your way in - they took Tom-Tom." She glanced over her shoulder at the door, and grimaced. "My mother won't stop crying."

"You aren't worried about him?" Ty Lee said, a little startled.

"They didn't take him to interrogate him," Mai said flatly. "He's two. They're probably planning to make some kind of a trade - they aren't going to hurt him."

Oh. That made sense.

"They haven't made an offer yet?" Samnang said.

"It was only a couple of hours ago," Mai said dryly. "I'm sure they'll get around to it."

***

"Ah, look, fortune smiles on us."

Zuko tore his gaze away from the sea, and looked over his shoulder.

Uncle was behind him - the stupid old man kept his ostrich horse at a frustratingly slow pace. They had been coming south down this stretch of coast for days, and Zuko was heartily sick of it. When his ostrich horse had not been forced to pick its way over rocks, it had been sinking ankle-deep in loose sand; and the breeze brushed almost constantly through his slowly-regrowing hair, reminding him every moment of what he had lost. The sea was a comfort for only one reason: because he could tell himself that if Uncle nagged him about his ostrich horse's treatment or proposed a stop for tea one more time, he could always drown himself to get away.

Uncle was pointing to the side, away from the water and up under the trees, and Zuko nudged his ostrich horse over a little. A path, it looked like - a little earthen path, and the head was marked with a post that bore the triple flame of the Fire Nation.

"Yes, I see, fortune," Zuko said. "We could not have found certain death on our own."

Uncle smiled. "Look a little higher," he said.

Zuko glanced back over the trees - there was a temple tower there, the same one they'd been seeing for the last hour or so as they rode. They were closer now, though, and - he squinted, frowning. He had thought it was a peculiar tree, or perhaps a small cloud's shadow, but the strange darkness against the temple's side was some kind of structure. The temple had cracked around it, like an earthquake had somehow driven a great lumpy ramp of black rock halfway to the shore where they were standing.

No, Zuko thought, and his heart was suddenly pounding. Not an earthquake. "The Avatar," he said. "The Avatar has been here."

"And a temple," Uncle said. "Whether its sages have abandoned it or not, we will surely have a shelter for the night, and perhaps even food."

Zuko would not have admitted it aloud, but it was a fair point; it had been far too long since Mi-sun's filling supper, and his stomach was cramping at the mere mention of the word. "Well," he said. "Come on, hurry up," and he began coaxing his ostrich horse up the sloping path.

***

Sen Ya brushed the broom along the edge of the step, flicking the last handful of dirt down. Perhaps she was unduly influenced by having seen the spirit of Avatar Roku with her own two eyes, but things had gone exceptionally well ever since the Avatar had come to them. High Sage Yi had departed in a near-panic to the Crescent Island temple, hoping to confer with the high sage there about what was to be done; and in his absence, bizarrely, Li Fan had come to fill his place.

Sen Ya had hoped things would change, but she still found herself startled by the odd wary deference the aspirants and the other sages now showed the three of them. To be sure, they still were not accepted with open arms; but whatever Li Fan suggested tended to be done, as though the other sages feared that to do otherwise would call Roku back again to rend the temple yet further.

They had not decided what to do about the rocky path the Avatar had built for herself. It was exceptionally difficult to melt stone, and they had no idea whether the temple would still stand if it were removed - aside from part of the wall of the sanctuary antechamber, the lava had filled the crack in the temple's side completely, and had hardened into place with the walls in its grip.

They had settled for a temporary cover of wood to keep rain out of the antechamber, and had let it be otherwise. And it was certainly impressive, to have proof in solid stone that the Avatar had come to them, even if it did mean Sen Ya had to sweep each half of the remaining front stairs separately.

She circled back inside to reach the other half - the only other way was to walk the entire length of the Avatar's path - and was coming back out into the sunlight when she realized there were people coming toward her.

Two, on ostrich horses; clothed in green, but they did not seem afraid, though Sen Ya could not think how word might have spread that Li Fan would turn no one away.

One was moving faster than the other - the younger of the two men, and he reined his ostrich horse in only feet from the lowest step. "The Avatar was here," he said.

Ah - a pilgrim. Sen Ya bowed. "She was, yes," she said.

"But she is gone now?" he said. Sen Ya wanted to call his tone wistful, but it was a little too sharp for that.

"She is," Sen Ya said regretfully. "Although she kindly left us a token, so that we would not forget." From here, the Avatar's path was a wall beside them, impossible to ignore.

The young man glanced up at the path - nearly four full floors high, here - and for a second, he looked nearly reverent; but then he shook his head, and turned back to Sen Ya. "And you - what, you sheltered her here?"

Sen Ya blinked. A belligerent pilgrim. Perhaps it was the young man's nature; the older man had caught up, now, guiding his ostrich horse closer, and he was making an apologetic face at Sen Ya. "She came to us for aid. Some of us would have turned her away, but duty prevailed."

The young man snorted. "And she tore the temple in half to thank you," he said.

"Duty had a somewhat difficult time prevailing," Sen Ya amended. "She touched the spirit of Roku, and he built the path so that she could depart." And if there were any argument needed that they had been right to help her, that had been it. All were taught that Roku had been a powerful and dedicated Avatar; he would not have come forth to help the girl if she should not have been helped.

The younger pilgrim had evidently come to the same conclusion: he was gaping at Sen Ya like a beached fish.

"Nephew," said the older man, before the younger's startlement could wear off. "I am a tired old man, and we have come a long way - we should rest here. If that's all right," and this last was directed to Sen Ya.

"Our high sage is away," Sen Ya said, "but I think we can muster two additional plates."

***

"I apologize, Princess; we should have been better prepared. But you have come to New Ozai at a difficult time-"

"Yes, yes," Azula said, in the tone that meant she was trying very hard not to roll her eyes.

Really, Ty Lee thought, Azula was actually being pretty restrained; she hadn't demanded that Mai's parents attend her last night, which she would have been well within her rights to do. And she had given them an entire night and half the morning to compose themselves, which was generous for Azula.

"The resistance is willing to deal with us," the governor added anxiously, still prostrating himself on the cushion in front of Azula - he had known better to object when Azula had come in and seated herself in the chair on the dais. "We will make the trade - all this will be resolved-"

"Mai will make the trade," Azula snapped, and Ty Lee winced a little. Obviously Azula's patience was starting to run out. "My father trusted you with the governance of this city, but your conduct thus far has been less than impressive. Who knows what might happen if you were given charge of an operation so delicate."

"But - it will be made?" Mai's mother said unexpectedly. "Our - our son will be returned to us?"

Ty Lee was looking at Azula, but Mai wasn't standing all that far away, and it was easy for Ty Lee to see the way her face, already so still, shuttered even further.

"Yes," Azula said. "At noon, you told them? We'll be ready. Now, where have you imprisoned this king of theirs?"

***

"Hey," Sokka said, "that's the girl who stepped on me."

Yue glanced up. They had pried the child away from Suki's fans, but only by replacing them with one of Yue's braids. He was rather heavy, and it was a bit difficult to hold him and her pike at the same time, but she was managing.

They were in the middle of crossing the bridge; the city gates had creaked open only a few moments ago, and there were at least four people waiting for them inside. The girl on the far left with the long braid did look familiar - and she shot Sokka a vaguely guilty look as they drew closer.

"That's close enough," one of the girls said, sharp and commanding, as soon as they were inside the gate. She wasn't smiling, but there was something about the slant of her mouth that spoke of smugness, of satisfaction.

"My brother is unhurt?" said the third girl, and Yue was surprised to hear her say brother - by the sound of her voice, she might just as easily have been commenting on the weather.

"He is," Yue assured her anyway, because who knew; some people hid their worry deep. She hefted the boy a little higher against her hip, and he giggled and bumped her shoulder with his head. "We took fine care of him."

And, sure enough, some small stiffness somewhere in the bored girl's shoulders went away. She looked like she might have been about to say something else, but the sharp girl spoke first. "The same can be said about your king," and she motioned behind her.

There was another gate there, leading to the next highest level of the city; but there were soldiers on the walltop, and at the movement of the sharp girl's hand, they were spurred into action. There was something on the parapet, vaguely boxy, and it had a metallic sort of gleam in the sun - of course, Yue thought, of course, where else could they keep an Earthbender king in a city of stone?

They lowered the king's tiny prison with chains until it hung from the gate in midair, the king's feet about the same distance from the ground as the sharp girl's head; and they got their first look at the king's face through the gaps between metal bars.

He did not look quite the way Yue had been expecting. Not that she had any particular expectations for Earth kings - but his hair stood out from the sides of his head rather wildly, and he had a very peculiar laugh.

Taneko had come with them; she stood behind Katara, and when Yue glanced at her, she looked not at all disconcerted. Apparently King Bumi was like this all the time. "My lord," she said, only a little wry, and bowed.

"Taneko?" the king said. "Is that you?" He shook his head, sighing. "I told you-"

"An opportunity arose," Taneko said.

"Enough babble," said the sharp girl. "Here is your king - well enough to speak, and with the use of all his limbs." She turned to look at him, almost consideringly, and something about the motion put Yue on edge - it was too smooth, as though rehearsed. "A powerful Earthbender, traded for an infant. It doesn't seem quite fair."

The bored girl went still, though her expression didn't change a jot; and the girl with the long braid said, "Azula-"

"Does it?" Azula demanded.

"No," the bored girl said, "you're right; I suppose it doesn't."

"Wait a minute," Sokka said, and he sounded more startled than angry. "Doesn't this kid's life mean a thing to any of you?"

The sharp girl laughed. "That you would think to ask that question seems like fair evidence that you don't plan to harm him yourselves - where is the risk?" She shrugged gracefully. "We keep the king, and sleep easy knowing you'll hold onto the boy. Even if you wished to kill him, it would be foolish: we might change our minds tomorrow, and return with another trade to propose."

"But you won't, will you?" Katara said quietly.

The sharp girl grinned. "We might."

She waved over her shoulder again, without even looking, and the soldiers on the top of the wall began obediently hauling King Bumi back up.

"You see?" he said to Taneko through the bars, sounding not the least bit upset; and then he turned in Katara's direction, and said, "It was nice to see you again, old friend."

"Wait, what do you-" Katara began, her voice beginning to trail into a question, and she took a step forward.

"She seeks to free the king!" the sharp girl said. "Stop them!"

***

Sokka didn't know the guy personally, but he didn't really like Ozai much; in retrospect, probably they shouldn't have sauntered inside a city that was named after him. Things had been bound to go wrong.

"Hold him," Yue said, hefting the kid toward him. "I cannot fight if I cannot use both hands."

"Now wait just one second," Sokka said, but Yue was already turning away from him, swinging her pike around low and fast.

The girl with the long braid leapt over the haft like she was playing a kid's game, with a smile on her face, and then did a little extra flip like she was taunting them. Beyond her, the governor's daughter, the girl with all the knives, was hurling them at Suki and Taneko. Taneko raised a wall of rock in front of herself, and the blades clanged off. Suki knocked one out of the air with the side of a fan and then charged forward, only to be met by the glaive of the only boy.

And Katara - Katara wasn't still where she had been standing. She had already uncapped her bending water, and frozen the chains holding up the king, so fast the metal had cracked with it; but the angry girl with the snooty voice - Azula? - was apparently a Firebender, and Katara was under the gate now, dodging balls of flame or meeting them with blobs of water.

"No one ever understands," the king said over the noise. Sokka couldn't be totally sure, but he sounded more vaguely resigned than anything else. The chains above him creaked, and the two largest broke; the little box-coffin-prison thing swung lower for a second, and then the rest of the chains snapped all at once with a screech.

"Um, Katara," Sokka yelled, starting forward with the kid still in his arms; but King Bumi jerked his chin as he fell, and the earth rose up to catch him. "... Okay, that is a master Earthbender."

"I need a moment," King Bumi declared, and swung his head again: the rock lifted him and swung him to the side, and Katara skidded away with him, eyes startled. "Sorry!" King Bumi called back to the angry girl, who was left standing there as they were carried off down the street beyond the gate.

Okay, so he seemed like kind of a weirdo, but King Bumi definitely had style.

***

Bumi slowed them down not far away, and then raised the ground up into a pillar with a jerk of his head; Katara could see Azula, small with distance, beginning to head toward them, but Taneko threw a chunk of stone at the girl's head and she turned back around.

"What were you talking about?" she said, as soon as the rock beneath them stopped moving.

"You're the Avatar," King Bumi said, "aren't you?"

"I - yes." Katara blinked. "How did you know?"

"Magic," King Bumi said, and then burst out laughing at the look on her face. "Kidding, kidding - logic. Taneko was one of my personal guards, before Omashu was taken, and she knew better than to try to come for me unless something exceptional made her think it was a good idea; you Waterbend. So: Avatar, which means some part of you used to be one of my best friends."

Katara stared at him, hopelessly lost; but Aang was drifting closer beside her, squinting. "Wait, Bumi?" he said.

Katara threw caution to the wind - if King Bumi thought she was odd, well, then they'd be even. "Yeah," she said, "right; he's the king, remember?"

"Oho," King Bumi said, pleased, "he's right there, is he?"

Katara glanced at Aang. "You knew Aang?" she said slowly.

"Oh, yes," King Bumi said, "when I was a child! I wasn't especially princelike, at the time, and we got into quite a bit of trouble." He grinned.

"I don't believe it," Aang said faintly. "I thought - I thought it had to be a different person, the next king, with the same name. But he's - he's really alive." There was a sort of light - metaphorical, rather than blue and shiny - blooming somehow in his face, and Katara smiled to see it; Aang had been so convinced everything he'd ever known was dead and gone. It had to be pleasant to be proven wrong.

"Good to not see you," King Bumi said, almost fondly. "Now, Avatar, we have some matters to discuss. You are, no doubt, wondering why I'm still in this box when I can Earthbend with my face."

"The thought had crossed my mind," Katara said. "You said Taneko knew - knew better than to try to come for you? I don't understand - it could have worked. Even without the trade, we can free you now; you can lead your people, I can have someone who can teach me Earthbending-"

"Nope," Bumi said, shaking his head. "Wrong, wrong, wrong. You're the Avatar, but you still think like a Waterbender - always change, always movement. Like your jing."

"Positive to negative," Katara said, "back and forth." Reciting her lessons from Yue to an Earthbender king standing in a metal coffin; this conversation was getting deeply surreal.

Bumi nodded. "Exactly so," he said. "But the jing that governs Earthbending is neither."

"... Neutral?" Katara guessed. Yue had told her there were actually eighty-five kinds, but they'd only talked about the fundamentals.

"Precisely!" Bumi said. "Waiting, listening; feeling the stillness of the moment that will tell you when to move. And this, right now - this is not my moment. This is not the time."

"But - I need a teacher," Katara said helplessly.

Bumi smiled. "And you will have one - when the moment is right," he said. "You'll find someone who listens to the earth, and can teach you to do the same. Perhaps it will even be me - but not today. You see?"

Katara sighed. "Not exactly," she admitted, "but I can't make you teach me." And perhaps he was right - Aang had said it, even one of those fire sages had said it. There was an order to these things, and she hadn't finished mastering Waterbending yet. Maybe it really wasn't the right time.

Bumi was watching her, and he nodded, then, like the conclusion she had just come to was inked in the air over her head. "The best of luck to you, Avatar," he said, and Katara bowed just as the rock beneath them began to lower them back to earth.

***

Taneko punched upward, and the ground splintered up to follow her fist just in time to save Sokka - and the child - from being fried alive.

She had recognized Princess Azula the moment the girl's face had been close enough to see, and had cursed inwardly. Bumi was her king, and she respected him deeply; but all his talk of waiting for the moment could grow deeply tiresome. She hated it when he was right.

The princess wasted no time with anger, and simply brought her hands to bear again, throwing a whirling disc of fire. It was not hard for Taneko to duck under, and she did not realize why until she had straightened up again.

It had been a distraction, and Princess Azula had used the time to leap over the wall Taneko had raised and set her hand to Sokka's throat. He had taken more care for the boy in his arms than for himself; he could have drawn the sword at his waist, but he would have had to drop the child to do it quickly enough.

"Sokka!" someone cried - Yue, the white-haired girl, the closest to them. There was something wrong with one of her arms, but the other was still working, and she had hurled the girl with the braid away from herself with a rope of water.

"Give him to me," Princess Azula hissed.

"What, so you can fry him instead of my neck?" Sokka said, clutching the kid protectively against his chest. "I don't think so."

Princess Azula stilled, and stared at him for a long moment. "I won't hurt him," she said. "He's my best friend's little brother." She paused again, and drew her hand slowly away from Sokka's neck. "Give him to me," she said, and this time it almost sounded like a request.

Sokka looked at her, and then Taneko saw his eyes flick over to the gate, where even now his sister was sprinting back down the street.

"Do it," Yue said suddenly. "There won't be any trade now - do it."

"This is totally a bad idea," Sokka muttered, but he held the child out; and Princess Azula took him.

***

"Beautiful, aren't they."

It was Uncle; Zuko knew it before he even turned his head. Even if the voice hadn't given it away, only Uncle would say something so graciously inane.

"There used to be more," Uncle said, running a finger lightly over one of the mosaics.

Zuko glanced along the hall. It was at the rear of the temple, a long corridor. Zuko had been itching to depart again, but Uncle had instantly accepted Sen Ya's offer of supper and a place to sleep, and had been slow to get moving this morning; in a desperate effort to distract himself, Zuko had decided to take a look around the temple.

And it had worked: he'd gotten embarrassingly absorbed in the mosaics, though not enough that he was unable to tell there were no gaps.

"In the other temples," Uncle clarified. "Did you ever go to the Avatar temple in Da Su-Lien?"

Zuko shook his head.

"You can see it, there - where they took the other Avatars off the walls." Uncle lifted his fingers from the stones and stepped back. "Sozin ordered that all Avatars who were not from the Fire Nation be removed."

"A wise choice," Zuko said, because Uncle seemed to be waiting for him to speak. "War is a foolish time to honor your enemies. Surely only the Avatars whose lives serve as a true example for the people-"

Uncle coughed loudly, the sound tinged with the edge of a laugh. "Tell me," he said, "what do you know about the Fire Nation Avatars of the past?"

Zuko glanced up at the mosaic they were standing in front of. "Kunnarya," he said, brushing the stones with one hand.

"Yes," Uncle agreed.

Zuko thought back to his lessons. "From the eastern islands," he said, "but she knew her duty was to serve the Fire Nation as a whole, and she did not falter."

"Very true," Uncle said equably, "but I think perhaps her definition of duty to the Fire Nation was different from the one your tutors imparted to you. She loved the eastern islands well. Were you also taught that she was given a hand in their governance?"

Zuko blinked.

Uncle nodded. "Fire Lady Zunli was very generous with her. Eight of the island governors were from the islands, in Kunnarya's time."

Uncle did not have to say it, Zuko knew: the same was true of only one official Zuko could think of now. "We are all part of the Fire Nation," Zuko said. "It does not matter."

"Having a voice in such things always matters," Uncle said quietly, and then turned to Zuko and smiled faintly. "But I believe you were saying earlier that you were ready to depart?"

"Yes," Zuko said, and lifted his hand from the little tiles that marked the hem of Kunnarya's skirt. Past Avatars, he reminded himself, were not their concern today.

***

Yin put her arms around Bopha's shoulders and squeezed. "I'll be back again," she said.

"Yeah, of course, in another six years," Phirun said, rolling his eyes; but he let her muss his hair again.

Mother drew Yin close and kissed her cheek, nudging a little stray hair behind Yin's ear. "I would wish you good luck, my daughter," she said, "but I know you do not need it."

Yin had already saddled Kiri, so she only had to mount up and she was ready to go. There was no one there but her family, so she let herself look back over her shoulder as many times as she liked, until the road curved away and dipped down and they were lost from view behind the trees.

She sighed, then, and drew Kiri up for a moment. She was next to the big old tree, and she reached out and rested her hand on the bark.

She had been hoping, somewhere in the back of her mind, that it would all end with Zhao. She had done things she had never expected to do, turned on her commanding officer for the sake of the Avatar; but he was gone now, and the Avatar was safe in the north. She had thought everything would finally be the way it should be, now. She would keep her fleet and be put under the command of someone competent, and follow orders for the rest of her life with a clear conscience.

But Bopha's bitter voice, Mother's hands curled over the dishwater; these things said otherwise. She had not been able to avoid the thought, last night - what Mother had said had skirted the edge of sedition, but Yin would never have turned her in. The Avatar was no relation of hers, and Yin had not been able to let her be turned in; and that had led Yin to the least comfortable thought of all.

The obsession, the madness, the plot to slay the moon - these things had all been Zhao. But even if he had not gone about it wisely, the quest to take the Avatar had not been, not really. The same orders Zhao had taken it upon himself to fulfill would probably have come down to them through the proper channels, in time. And much as Yin might tell herself she had only been thwarting Zhao's foolishness, she had done it by saving the Avatar. If everything happened as she hoped - she did keep her fleet, she was given a competent commander, she had orders that it did not make her cringe to follow - would she then forget everything that had happened, and hand the Avatar over without the slightest pang?

She had not been able to find an answer, last night; but now, eyes closed, feeling the old familiar bark beneath her fingers, she suddenly feared that it was a resounding no.

***

"I apologize," Taneko said, bowing. "My king told me he would not come until the right moment, and I should have listened."

"No, hey, it's okay," Sokka said. "He seemed a little kooky, I can see how it would be hard to take him seriously."

Suki bit down on a laugh. It was true, every bit: perhaps it hadn't gone the way they'd been planning, but no one had been hurt so badly Katara hadn't been able to fix it. Even the odd limpness in Yue's arm that the girl with the braid had left behind was slowly wearing off. And the Omashu resistance was no worse off than it had been before, if also no better. Plus, King Bumi had been kind of peculiar.

Taneko withheld comment. "I wish you good fortune on your travels," she said instead. "And, if I may make a suggestion?"

"Of course," Katara said, and Suki could hear the gratitude that colored her voice. She had told them everything King Bumi had said, about waiting for the right moment and finding someone who listened; but the end-of-summer deadline was still hanging over her head. It was Katara, of course she was still worried.

"Gaoling," Taneko said. "It is some distance to the south, near the mountains. It is a great center of Earthbending power - there are at least three schools in the city itself, and many fine Earthbenders go there, to train and to teach. I feel confident in saying none of them will be quite like our king; but I am sure you will be able to find someone there."

***

Azula watched Mai's mother clutch Tom-Tom and cry, and tried not to sigh.

She had been too honest, again, but it had paid off; the boy and the girl had believed her, and given her Tom-Tom. Granted, they had also escaped, when they should have been killed for their feeble attempt to cheat the deal, but on balance, it had gone well.

Very well, in fact - she had gotten the boy, which meant she was the one who had handed him back to Mai. Mai was rarely demonstrative, but she had smoothed Tom-Tom's hair with distinctly gentle hands and given Azula a small grateful smile.

Azula had not brought up her search for Zuko and Uncle yet; but she would, as soon as this woman was done crying and she could get Mai alone, and it was a foregone conclusion.

Azula had given Mai her little brother back. Mai would agree.

---

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Chapter Five: The Swamp

They had sailed many corners of the ocean, in four years' time, but they had never had reason to go near Dou Ying Island, and it was not marked on any of Mizan's charts. So she didn't mind staying in the middle of their fleet, completely surrounded; she hated sailing anywhere if she didn't know the depth of the water. This way they'd at least have some warning if there were sudden shoals.

She found it less pleasant when they reached the harbor; though it had been obvious from the start that they would not be able to go if they wished to, something about being surrounded within the enclosing arms of the harbor made it suddenly even more true.

"They're signaling," Isani said. "They want us to dock at the left, there, I think."

"I think you're right," Mizan said, and forced herself to concentrate. She could compose all the drastic escape plans she wanted later, when they'd be truly needed. Right now, they had to do as they were told if they wanted to live.

*

Mizan couldn't have said what she'd been expecting, but it had been something more piratical than a well-kept old village hall on the main road up from the harbor. Perhaps "village" was not precisely the right word: there were more buildings than Mizan could count easily, with wide streets between them, men hurrying by with baskets and women with fabric piled on their shoulders. The pirates had their own little city here - dedicated, no doubt, to keeping the fleet in good repair and the pirates fed, and supported by trade in the loot the pirates took.

"This way," the captain said sharply over his shoulder, when Mizan slowed for a moment to look, and the sailor next to her took her elbow roughly.

On her other side, Isani made a sharp movement, as though to begin a punch; but Mizan caught her wrist before she could get far. She was willing to accept a little bruising to her elbow as the price for a way to do what she needed to do.

There was a table in the hall, large and solidly built, and at least eight people were sitting at it - captains, Mizan assumed, or commanders, or whatever pirates had. There were others inside, a whole crowd; and they went quiet as the captain approached the table, Mizan and Isani behind him.

"What is this?" said one of the women behind the table.

"The Fire Nation captain," the captain said.

"Ah, yes," said a man near the end, nodding. "You sent word." His gaze shifted to Mizan, and he eyed her critically. "I would ask who you are, to think you could sail up to an enemy fleet and request to join them, but there is no need."

"No?" Mizan said.

Another woman snorted. "Everything there is to know about you is shouted out by your ship. Fire Nation - arrogant, presumptuous, violent."

"Violent," Mizan repeated consideringly. "I have never been called violent by pirates before."

The woman rolled her eyes. "You see? Pirates, she says," she said to the man.

"If not pirates, then what are you called?" Mizan said.

The man smiled at her, but it was not a pleasant expression. "It does not matter," he said. "We are now called many things. Pirates, raiders, privateers. What matters is what we were called before." He tapped a finger against the table. "Fishermen, farmers; shepherds, weavers. Until those lives were taken from us by such as you."

Mizan crossed her arms. "My ship seems to have forgotten to tell you a few things," she said. "Were I to sail up to a Fire Nation fleet, I would be as welcome as you. I am a criminal; if what I heard in the last port we docked in was true, Princess Azula has set a price on my head herself."

"A different sort of criminal than us," the first woman said, "if Princess Azula dealt with your sentence personally."

Fair enough. "It is true that I am not a thief by trade," Mizan acknowledged. "But I am a soldier and a sailor, as is every member of my crew; and I bring with me a Fire Navy steamship. Not one of the great battleships, but in good condition and well-armed, and certainly superior to any Earth Kingdom barge."

"Such a respectful choice of words," the second woman murmured, eyes hard.

"Respectfulness and truth are sometimes at odds," Mizan said. "When there is a choice, I choose truth." She raised her voice a little, enough that everyone in the hall would be able to hear. "I was in the Navy for many years before my exile - I know their ways, I know their ships, I know their favored routes. I can help you, if you will allow it, and we will be a thorn in their side so deep they will never pry it out."

All eight of them were looking at her, now - nine, if you counted the captain who was still standing beside her - and most of them had expressions that were at least thoughtful, if not friendly. But she had them now; she understood what she had not at first.

"Because that's what you're doing, isn't it?" she said. "They call you pirates because that's what you are to them - but only to them. If you were true pirates, you'd have no allegiance at all; but you've never sunk an Earth Kingdom ship in your lives. Or however long it's been since one village too many burst into flames and you decided to take matters into your own hands."

The eight who were sitting at the table exchanged glances.

"You cannot be trusted to sail alone," a third woman said, one who hadn't spoken before. "Or with your full crew intact."

"Of course not," Mizan said, frowning a little. Did they think she was a complete fool? "I had thought to split them up - a Firebender per ship will make it far easier for your fleets to coordinate themselves."

There was quiet for a moment; and then the captain who had brought her in laughed aloud. "Well," he said, "perhaps we will find some use for you after all."

***

Yue stared up at the trees, and sighed.

She had come to like trees quite well, on their journey south; but they had traveled at a blistering pace compared to the Avatar's journey north, and everything was different here. It was unbelievably hot, all the time, and the sun was always so high - and the trees had gone from reasonably-sized to, well, this.

"Can't we - go around?" Sokka said plaintively.

"I'm not looking forward to this, either," Suki said, "but we need to get to Gaoling as fast as we can, and we have no idea how big this swamp is. There's no way going around will be faster than going straight through."

"It'll be faster if it means we don't sink up to our necks in swamp scum," Sokka said. "We're not even in it yet, and the ground's all squishy and gross. And look at those trees! They could step on us without even noticing!"

"Except for how they're trees and not stepping anywhere, I'm sure you're right," Katara said dryly. "We've got two Waterbenders, Sokka. The swamp scum isn't going to get us."

"Maybe it wouldn't have if you hadn't said that right in front of it," Sokka muttered.

At that, Yue couldn't help smiling, and she reached out to put a hand on Sokka's shoulder. "Do not worry: I will protect you," she said, hefting her pike in her other hand.

To be fair, it certainly was intimidating: what gaps there were between the giant trees were filled with thick damp shadows, or hanging vines, and there was a faint murky burbling coming from somewhere. Sokka stared at it a moment longer, expression resigned, and then glanced at her, and Suki behind her, and Katara on the other side. "Okay, fine," he said, "but if I end up with scum living in my boots, I blame you all."

"We'll do our best to bear it," Suki said, laughing, and pushed the first curtain of vines aside.

***

Probably they were all going to end up with scum living in their boots, Suki thought later, rubbing a stray hair out of her face with one wrist. Not that they had to step in the swamp all that much - nothing could be done about the sogginess of the ground, but Katara and Yue could freeze paths to get them across the larger pools of stagnant water. But Suki, at least, was sweating ferociously. The air seemed to get hotter and stickier the further they went, and there were bugs everywhere.

"That beetle was the size of my fist," she heard Sokka muttering. "Not okay!"

She nearly laughed, but she was abruptly too busy falling - everything in here was so slippery, when it wasn't sticky or grimy.

She caught herself on one hand; the texture of the root she'd grabbed was truly disgusting, but she forced herself not to let go. Yue had caught her other elbow, and a second later Sokka came up behind her and steadied her shoulders.

"All right, that's it," Suki heard Katara say, and when she was steady on her feet again and looking up, she saw Katara shake her head. "When Suki's falling down, it's time to stop."

Suki thought about protesting, but it actually was getting dark - or darker than it had been before, at least, even under the dank green shade of the trees.

They had been in uncomfortable surroundings before, but that evening was truly miserable. Breathing felt like drowning, and the wood around them was so wet they couldn't start a fire. Suki could think of nothing that would have comforted her more than a warm bowl of rice, but they had to settle for dried meat - tougher than usual, with the damp in the air - and raw vegetables that had lost most of their crunch in the heat.

"We probably shouldn't start a fire anyway," Katara said, glancing up at the trees. "It would just make everything hotter - and who knows what's in here that might come looking."

Sokka was not convinced. "I bet we could've started one if we'd tried," he said, "by which I mean if you'd just let me cut some branches-"

"It was a bad idea!" Katara said.

Sokka rolled his eyes. "They're just trees, they wouldn't have cared! You are so weird, seriously."

Katara bit her lip and glanced at the air; Aang, of course, but it made Sokka roll his eyes again.

"Could've started it yourself if you could Firebend," he added sharply, and Suki thought about punching him.

"A very practical point to make," Yue said before Suki could move, her voice cool and biting, "given that she's had no way to learn it yet."

"Yeah, well," Sokka said grumpily; but he let it go.

Once it had begun, the dark came on quickly, and pale, eerie lights began to spring up between the trees, distant and vague through the mist. They set up their sleeping mats facing away from each other - and it was a good idea, Suki told herself, because they needed to keep an eye out in here; she firmly ignored the bit of her that was just plain sick of their faces, sick of always walking, and sick of this place.

*

She slept badly, waking half a dozen times in the night with the firm conviction that something was slithering over her ankles or up the side of her arm, only to find nothing there at all. The dim light of morning filtering down through the leaves was a relief, even if the feeling was muted by sheer exhaustion; the sooner they could keep going, the sooner they could get out of here.

So the groaning noises, when they first started, seemed like just another way for the swamp to prove itself unpleasant - after the heat, and the damp, and the bugs, and the lights in the dark, why not?

But it wasn't just trees bending in the wind, or something in the distance fighting, because it seemed to be following them. The fourth time they heard it, it was close and almost right ahead of them, and Sokka nearly jumped out of his boots.

"Okay, seriously," he said, "what is that?" and he was turning to make a face at Suki when his question was abruptly answered.

The thing was huge, at least several dozen feet tall, and its motions as it came toward them were absurdly smooth - it looked effortless, limbs slithering forward through the water like it was growing at them instead of walking. Well, limbs - limbs might have been the wrong word. It reminded Suki suddenly of La, and the way the great fishlike spirit had flowed over the palace wall in Kanjusuk, like it was no barrier at all; but this spirit, if that was what it was, had no pool of light at its heart. It had a face, though, oddly expressionless, and very still amidst the shifting greenness that made up its body.

Sokka must have seen the look on Suki's face as she stared at it over his shoulder, because he raised his eyebrows and turned back around.

"That's ... not actually much of an answer to my question," he said, almost thoughtfully; and then his feet went out from under him and he tumbled into the water with a cry.

A terrible moment to slip, Suki thought, and then realized that he hadn't - or he had, but it had been because of the thick black vine that had looped around his waist and tugged him sideways. The plant-spirit groaned again, so loud the water around them trembled visibly; Suki had never heard of a creature that could attack people by making plants grow, but given that she had just traveled across the world to a city made of ice with the Avatar, she was willing to consider it.

First things first. The creature was still not all that close, but it was apparently powerful; Yue was wrestling with another vine that was trying to yank her pike from her hands, and Katara had sliced another in two with a foaming blade of water. And Sokka was sputtering in the swampy water, sliding steadily closer to the monster despite the kicking of his feet.

Suki gave herself a small running start, three quick steps along the root mass they'd camped on, and then threw herself into the air, tucking her legs up tight. A turn, two, and then she snapped her legs out again in time to land with a splash between Sokka and the creature.

She didn't land on the vine, but it had to be close; she slung a fan open and swung it down to cut through the water like the blade of a paddle. It came up with a spattering of mud against the nearest tree, but she must have managed to slice the right thing, because the tension that had been dragging Sokka abruptly dropped away, and he hurtled to his feet and yanked the vine off himself with a shout.

The creature shrieked, like Suki chopping a vine thirty feet away had somehow managed to hurt it, and raised both of its loosely-arranged arms. The swamp water answered, heaving up in a wave; and when Katara hurried toward them, reaching up to catch it, two more vines whipped up out of the water and twined around her arms. Half the wave crumpled down, but half didn't, and Suki dodged to the side to avoid what was left.

It brought her closer to the mud-spattered tree - too close, she realized a moment later, as the creature shifted its arms and a dozen vines tumbled down from the branches. She cut through three with one swing, a fourth on the way back, but there were too many; Sokka shouted something that she couldn't quite hear over the splash of water and another of the creature's groans, and then the vines dragged her back, away from the clearing and off into the mist.

***

Katara heard Sokka yell, and she had some idea what had happened when she looked over her shoulder and couldn't see Suki; but she was a little occupied with the vines that were gripping her arms. They'd wound themselves as tightly as hands, tight enough to bruise, and her sleeves were heavy with the water that streamed off them.

It was creepy, how alive they seemed. Not that plants were usually dead, but in Katara's experience - which, admittedly, was relatively limited - they didn't often attack unprovoked. But it had to be the swamp-monster controlling them. The only problem was, she couldn't tell how. Some kind of spirit ability, she might have thought, except nothing was blue or glowing aside from Aang's horrified face.

She couldn't shake the vines off herself, and, of course, Aang couldn't touch them, though he did try. She couldn't even bend, with the way they were pulling her arms taut. But Yue had let go of her pike, giving herself a few free seconds while the vines that had been after her wrapped themselves around the weapon, and she used the time to turn and cut Katara free with a sharp swing of her hands.

Sokka had managed to slide his sword free, and he was swinging wildly, slicing the vines in front of him apart before they could touch him - but there were more creeping up from behind as the swamp-thing lumbered closer. Aang shouted a warning, and Katara had to turn away to slap more vines down with a handful of water; when she turned back, Sokka was nowhere to be seen, and the sound of his startled yelp was already fading away.

It was so quick - she shouted after him, and then turned back around, about to ask Yue whether she had seen anything; but Yue gasped while Katara's head was still turning, and when Katara had finished moving, the only thing left was the water rippling where Yue had been standing.

"Aang," Katara said, gasping - she'd barely moved, but her breath was short, her lungs suddenly too small. "Aang, did you see-?"

"The vines," Aang said, "they dragged her that way," and then the swamp-thing growled again, long and low. Katara whirled, abruptly angry, and sent a tall, thin sheet of water flying at it. It moved, but not fast enough, and a third of one arm fell away; but somehow, she couldn't see how, it was replaced just as quickly.

It shrieked again, sharp and angry, and then sank back suddenly toward the trees.

"Katara - Katara, hurry," Aang said, but it was already too late; even as she stepped out into the water and began pulling it close to carry her, the green of the swamp-monster blended back into the heavy mist, and she was left alone but for Aang, hovering at her shoulder.

Katara swallowed down the urge to shout angrily at the trees, and let her arms drop. No point - the thing was gone, and she wanted to find Sokka and Suki and Yue more than she wanted to chase it down by herself.

She swallowed. With the swamp-thing gone, it was almost eerily quiet.

But Aang was still there. "I can find them," he said quickly, "I can help you find them," and he was wringing his hands anxiously.

Someday, Katara thought, she was going to find a way to convince him that being incorporeal was a really good reason to not be able to help them when this kind of thing happened. "Yue," she said. "You saw which way she went?"

Aang nodded, and turned to point - and he must have seen the pale flash amid the trees at the same moment as Katara, because they both twitched forward. Yue's hair - it had to be. "Yue!" Katara shouted, in case the other girl could hear her, and she hurried forward into the swamp.

***

The vines had Yue around the ankles, and three more were wrapped diagonally around her chest and shoulder; but apparently they only really had one good yank in them, because once she had skidded off through the water and bounced over two roots and into a third, they went limp and slid away.

She shoved them off herself immediately, just in case the swamp creature chose to follow her and bring them back to life, and then stood up, grimacing as the motion flexed what would undoubtedly become a spectacular bruise across her back.

She had felt disgusting before, sweating through her shirt with her hair sticking slickly to the back of her neck; but she was truly vile now, soaked as she was with stagnant water. She climbed out onto the root she'd struck, and dumped the worst of it out of her boots. She couldn't get rid of the tepid, sour smell, but she could bend most of the water out of her clothes and hair, and did, with a careful twist of her hands. And then she stood up, and tried to figure out where she was.

The vines hadn't tugged her back in a straight line, and they hadn't been careful to keep her head above water either. But surely they couldn't have managed to take her very far.

The sun was no help; mist had risen up everywhere, perhaps in response to the swamp creature's presence. She was peering into it carefully, trying to decide whether that stump actually looked familiar, when the heel of a boot disappeared around a tree trunk, and someone giggled.

Not Katara or Suki, Yue was fairly certain; they had been as annoyed this morning as anyone, and Yue doubted either one would wander through the swamp giggling. But it was someone, and someone was better than no one.

She drew the water close under her feet, pressing it into a little platform of ice, and then pulled on the water around it, skimming forward across the pool. Yes, there, a hand - and a flash of red?

Yue thought of the acrobatic girl immediately, the one who had taken her bending away; and she shuddered a little. It had been so unsettling - she had been halfway through a move, water following her hands like always. The girl had slipped past and pressed two fingers into her shoulder, and suddenly the water had splattered to the ground, and she hadn't been able to lift it again no matter what she did. Disconcerting.

But she shoved her nervousness back and sped up, and soon she could see that she had been wrong. It wasn't the acrobatic girl - it was Princess Azula.

Taneko had told them a little, before they had left Omashu to head to the south: they had been facing the crown princess of the Fire Nation, the younger sister of the exiled prince who had plagued Katara, Sokka, and Suki on their way north. Sokka had muttered something about how everybody related to the Fire Lord was evidently just as unpleasant as he was.

Yue slowed. The girl who had taken her bending away, unnerving as she'd been, had smiled the whole time; she hadn't seemed angry or especially violent, and she hadn't actually hurt Yue very much. But the princess - Yue couldn't forget the look on her face when she'd pressed her hand to Sokka's throat. Had she truly followed them all the way into the swamp from Omashu?

Azula saw the look on her face and giggled again, sounding pleasantly delighted. "You don't look happy to see me," she said, fondly scolding, like Yue was a friend.

"Perhaps because I am not," Yue said. She stayed wary, but Azula hadn't moved, except to shift her weight, and her arms were folded across her chest; it would take her some time to reach a bending stance.

"Oh, now that's just impolite," Azula said. "I need the Avatar, you must understand that; but you could live, if you wanted."

"If you get your hands on Katara," Yue said, "it will be because I am already dead."

Azula tilted her head back and laughed. "That is so cute," she said, lifting one hand, and Yue almost threw a wall of water at her reflexively - but she was only wiping theatrically at one eye. "I mean, you aren't even one of them, not really. They've been across the world together - and you? You've taught her some tricks and helped them sail their boat. Good thing you almost died the first time, or you might be no use at all. And once she's learned all she can from you, why should they keep you around?"

Yue resisted the urge to take a step back - she'd only dunk herself in swamp water if she stepped off her little ice patch - and eyed the princess closely instead. "Even if I had an answer to that," she said, "I do not think I would tell you."

"Oh?" Azula said. "And why's that?"

"Because," Yue said, confident now as she had not been before, "you are not real."

***

Sokka was glad, now, that he had the sword; his fans were sharp, but there was something about the hacking motion you could use with a sword that was more satisfying when you were frustrated.

He sliced another knot of vines out of his way, and stumbled a few steps further.

He'd given up on staying dry almost immediately - he'd been doused when the vines had yanked him over into the bog, and without Katara or Yue around, there was no way for him to avoid wading around. He'd nearly lost a boot to the muck twice now, and his pants were never, ever going to dry.

He still wasn't sure where he was, or even how long he'd been wandering around, although the ache in his sword arm said it had been at least a little while. He would have felt stupid just staying in one place and waiting for Katara to come find him; but he was starting to think it might have been a good idea anyway.

Still, it was too late now, he thought; and then he hewed another tangle of vines out of the way, and that was totally a person standing across the clearing from him.

He almost punched his hand into the air to celebrate, except there was a sword in it and his arm was tired - but he did grin, and he was so pleased to have found somebody that he slogged halfway across, splashing with every step, before he actually took a good look and had to stop short.

"You - Father?" he said, incredulous.

Father had been facing away from him, which was part of what had made him hard to recognize; but he turned when Sokka spoke, and smiled. "Sokka," he said, and his voice was exactly the way Sokka remembered it.

Sokka laughed, a little hysteria sneaking in around the edges, and splashed the last few steps without even feeling the slimy water that squelched between his toes. "Father," he said again, because it was the only word left in his head.

Father grinned, and then glanced behind Sokka. "And your sister?" he said. "She's not here, is she?"

"I - no, I'm - I've gotten a little lost," Sokka admitted; but Father didn't look surprised, or disappointed, or even worried.

He looked pleased.

"I'm sure we'll find her, though?" Sokka said, a little uncertainly.

"No," Father said, abrupt, and then seemed to remember himself, and smiled again. "No, you had better come with me."

Sokka frowned. "But Katara, she-"

"Your sister has a job to do," Father said, almost sharp. "You know that, Sokka. That's why you need to come with me."

Sokka shook his head. This was seriously weird. "What? But she's - she needs help!"

"I know that," Father said, and then sighed. "I left you behind for a reason, Sokka - I didn't know this would happen."

Sokka sloshed back a step, involuntary, and his heart was pounding. "What?" he said again; his tongue felt thick, clumsy in his mouth.

Father laughed. "'Too young'?" he said. "You were the oldest boy we left in the village! This is exactly what I mean - how can you possibly be so foolish? You can't even tell when your own father is lying to you." He shook his head. "You would only have slowed us down - but I would have taken you anyway, if I'd known what your sister was, and that you'd insist on going with her. Your mother should never have let you."

Sokka stared. There was something wrong with all this, something to do with how neatly it lined up with everything he'd ever been afraid Father would say to him; but he couldn't pick it out of the half-formed protests roiling through his head, not one of them articulate enough to make it out of his mouth.

"But it's all right," Father said, and his tone was almost soothing. "I'll take you with me now, and that way your sister will finally be able to get something done without you stumbling around."

At that, Sokka had to shake his head. "No," he said, "no - I promised Mother - this isn't-" He tried to drag his flailing thoughts into some kind of order. "You - you aren't even here, you're on the other side of the continent. You could never have gotten here so fast." He swallowed, backing up again, and felt his mouth pinch flat. "You're not my father," he said, as firmly as his shaking voice would allow, and turned around; and when he turned back, after a long moment of nothing but his heart thundering in his ears, there was nothing there but a rotten stump.

***

Suki eyed the branch. A little small, but she'd guess it was at least as thick as her wrist, which meant it would probably hold her.

She reached up and grabbed it with one hand, and set her boots against the bark; a quick scrabbling push, and she swung a leg over it and peered back down at the swamp.

It was a risk, of course, but she'd picked a mostly vineless tree, and even with the mist she could see further from up here than she could down there. She scanned the area to her right first, but the only flutter of movement was too high to be anything but a bird. She turned around to check her left, and nearly toppled off the branch sideways.

Kyoshi was sitting there, as casually as though she hadn't been dead for around two hundred years - she had no paint on her face, but Suki had been sneaking into the shrine to look at the painting of her since she was a little girl, and she knew what Kyoshi looked like. She was wearing full battle dress, and she clearly hadn't climbed the tree to reach the branch she was sitting on, because there wasn't a mark on it.

No, Suki thought, of course she hadn't climbed the tree, she was a spirit. But why in the world had she come to Suki now, of all times?

Kyoshi was smiling at her, very slightly; it was disconcerting, without the makeup. "I am sorry," she said. "I should have been your mother."

Suki stared at her uncertainly. "I ... don't understand," she ventured. "You are Kyoshi, aren't you? I mean - you look so different-"

Kyoshi tilted her head. "Are you less yourself - less one of my warriors - when you have no paint?" she said.

"No," Suki said instantly. "Of course not."

"Neither am I," Kyoshi said. "You were there, in the pool in the north."

It wasn't a question, but Suki nodded anyway.

"This place is something like that," Kyoshi said. "There is a place like it, in the spirit world. There are many swamps, many places to be mired, in the spirit world; but there is one just like this, and the path between them is short and easy to walk. It is easy for thoughts and dreams to pass - for a strong fear or a strong hope to drift between and take on a life of its own. Yours-"

"Would have been my mother," Suki said, beginning to understand. "But you came to me instead."

She was rewarded with another quiet smile. "To explain," Kyoshi confirmed. "You must not fear anything you see. Such visions may offer you insight, but they will be nothing more - or less - than that. They are truths of the self, or, once in a great while, messages from the spirits; but they can only rarely tell you anything some part of you does not already know."

"But the others," Suki said. "They don't know any of this?"

"The Avatar is ... occupied," Kyoshi said. "I could not speak to her. But you are mine, and I am never far from you."

It could have sounded creepy, but Kyoshi said it kindly, comfortingly, and Suki felt a smile break across her face without her intending it. She was going to remember this until the day she died.

Abruptly, Kyoshi lost her Avatar's composure, and grinned back. "You were very young," she said, "and it was a difficult road for you. But you have done well, and if I had chosen myself I could not have picked better." She was suddenly less substantial than she had been, her edges dissolving; and the last thing to go was her smiling face, and the hand she had extended gently toward Suki's shoulder.

***

Katara hurried around another trunk, just in time to see the trailing edge of a robe vanish beyond a tall lump of root, again.

This was getting utterly ridiculous. It wasn't Yue, that was becoming obvious, because Yue would have stopped when she heard Katara running after her, and this person seemed to be seriously enjoying leading Katara around in circles.

Well, maybe not circles - she wasn't sure where she was any more, except that she was coming up a gentle rise that meant she could finally get away from the water.

"Hurry up!" Aang said - easy for him to say when he didn't have to touch the ground, or dodge around the trees.

The other side of the rise sloped down again, as it had to, and Katara stumbled down it as quickly as she could without actually losing her balance. There was a clear space ahead, an open sort of corridor between two rows of trees, and she could see the person at last, she could; they'd finally stopped, whoever they were, and hadn't started running again by the time she reached the water.

"Is that a girl?" Katara said, startled, after a long moment.

It certainly looked like one - with her hair high, in a long fine dress, though why she was wearing something like that in the middle of a swamp, Katara couldn't guess. She had turned to face Katara, and she grinned, higher on one side of her mouth than the other.

"And a flying boar," Aang added, sounding just as confused as Katara felt.

It was as though the girl had heard them; she laughed and lifted a hand, and then a sudden splash of water obscured her, and when it had fallen down again, she and the winged boar were both gone.

"Katara - Katara!" Aang said, suddenly loud, and Katara was already bringing her arms up when she figured out why.

The splash - she'd been staring at the girl, she hadn't been paying attention, but the splash hadn't been a branch falling or anything; it had been the swamp-thing, and even now it was raising its arms and sending another lump of water flying at her like a giant fist.

She yanked the swamp water up between and froze it into a wall, but the water and the air were both so warm that the ice was pretty halfhearted. The swamp-thing's water-fist didn't hit her, but it was enough to break the wall apart, and she yelped and dodged as chunks of melting ice came hurtling down around her. She didn't have time to catch them and redirect them; so she pulled a handful of water up to knock the worst of them aside.

***

It was probably sort of bad that Suki so readily recognized the sound of Katara shouting in distress; but she did, and she sprinted toward it. She had to slosh through a couple of pools and climb over a thick tangle of roots that came up to her hip, but when she was over it, Katara was there, a shield of water raised in front of her - and so was the creature, towering over the far end of the clearing.

"Katara!" someone shouted, and Suki almost thought she had done it without realizing it until Sokka rounded a tree and splashed into the water across from Suki. He looked strange, his face pinched with something heavier than concern - but now wasn't the moment to figure out why.

Katara did something quick and sharp with her arms and hands, and sent a whirling blade of water flying at the creature; but both of its arms were cut short, not just one, and when the left one fell, it revealed Yue, standing behind the creature with her hands upraised just like Katara's.

The creature groaned, drawing more greenery from somewhere inside itself - but it took time, so Katara could obviously afford the moment it took to turn and say, "Sokka - Sokka, perfect, are you okay?"

Sokka blinked. "Me? I'm - I'm fine. What do you need me to do?"

"Get closer, if you can. Yue and Suki and I can keep it distracted, as long as we can convince it to chase her and keep cutting away its arms - if you can cut away at the middle of it, maybe we can make it fall apart."

Even as she listened, Suki was already moving in front of them, putting herself front and center, and the creature's mask-still face was turning toward her, its newly regrown arms reaching out to grasp at her. But it seemed different - thinner, maybe, in the middle, like fixing its arms had taken something from the rest of it.

Behind it, Yue settled her feet and chopped at it again, and Suki leapt over its grasping tendrils a moment before they went suddenly limp and tumbled into the water. Yue shifted again, and something peculiar happened to its shoulder.

"What did you do?" Suki shouted at her, dodging a low-hanging branch.

"I think I bent it," Yue yelled back, understandably disconcerted - who had ever heard of bending spirits? "Everything that it's made of is wet-"

Wet - that by itself was strange. Suki thought of Kyoshi, her pristine battle dress; not that spirits couldn't manifest themselves looking any way they chose, but the appearance of wetness would be part of them, then. Not real water that Yue could bend away if she wanted to.

Yue frowned in concentration and pulled at it again, Katara doing the same to the other side; and at the same moment, Sokka came within sword's reach of its loose green leg. He swung at it, vines falling away as he sliced, and that was apparently too much - its great lumpy shoulders came suddenly apart, and most of what was left fell abruptly on Sokka's head.

"Sokka!" Katara shouted.

Suki was closest; she hurried forward, splashing through the swamp, and yanked at the tangled mass of vines. "Sokka?"

"I'm here, I'm okay," he said, muffled, and an arm poked up perhaps a foot away from her hands and dragged a particularly large knot off of Sokka's head. He was sitting in the shallow water, vines piled around him, and his free hand was rubbing his head. "Where did it - aha!" He peered down into the water, and then stuck his arm in and felt around for a moment.

When his hand came back up, the spirit's face was clutched in it.

"It's just a mask," he said. "I knew it - it hit me in the head on the way down."

"A mask?" Suki said, baffled. "But if it was a spirit-"

"No spirit, only us," someone said, far too close to be Katara or Yue. "Do not move, or we will kill you."

***

Iyama signaled with a backward shift of her foot, and Nagayo obediently stepped forward with the rest of them, moving out from behind his tree with his hands at the ready. Together, the twelve of them formed a loose circle; there was nowhere for the outsiders to run.

An exceptionally difficult group of travelers, these four. Most did not fight the creature, but fled; and if they were split up, a vision or two usually convinced them it would be wiser to wait at the edge of the swamp for signs of their companions. But not these four.

"You are Waterbenders," the white-haired girl said slowly, and lowered her arms, even though Iyama was barely a step away from her friends. "The creature was yours."

The other Waterbender girl lowered her arms also, which was probably the only reason Iyama answered. "Yes," she said. "Many have attempted to pass through this swamp, whether whole armies or small bands of spies - rarely Waterbenders, but it makes no difference. We are not here to further your war."

"We're not furthering the war at all!" the other Waterbender said. "We're trying to end it."

"Through your victory over your enemies?" Iyama said, and Nagayo tried not to snort. Foolish of the girl, to, what - attempt to be oblique and hope they would not notice? "Do not think we are with you because we are also Waterbenders. The Fire Nation has tried to burn us away; the Earth Kingdoms, to move the land and drain the swamp. No matter which you work for, you will not get what you want. We will not allow ourselves to be destroyed to make your war easier."

"Actually, we sort of have friends on both sides," the boy said thoughtfully. "I mean, that lady who stabbed Zhao-"

"We don't work for either of them," the girl with the short hair clarified. "Not really."

"No? You are Earth Kingdom," Iyama said.

"Granted," the girl said, "but I'm not here to drain your swamp. I'm here to serve the Avatar," and she nodded over her shoulder at the second Waterbender, the girl with the long braid.

The Avatar - was it possible? Iyama eyed them closely, and then glanced sideways, at Tama, Hayu, and then Nagayo himself. It had been a long time since Aroha-star-eyes had traveled from the swamp to serve the world, but not so long that anyone had forgotten. The tales of her life were still told around the fire. "The tohunga will know the truth of it," he said.

Iyama looked at him a moment longer, and then at the girl; she was suspicious, and rightly so, but it would do no harm to take them. If they lied, Anaru would know it. "All right," Iyama agreed at last, and Nagayo went back around the tree to fetch the nearest canoe.

***

Probably Katara should have tried to keep track of the route they took to reach the village, but after the first few winding turns, it became impossible - to stay on open water, they had to twist back and forth around trees and low banks and mossy roots.

The people were definitely Waterbenders, though: when all the canoes were filled, there was a bender in the stern of every one, and they sped through the swamp with a definite wake behind them.

They'd been split up, Sokka and Suki and Yue each in a separate canoe, and Katara with the woman who seemed to be in charge. She spent the whole trip watching Katara, wary but no longer quite so hostile, and she didn't seem to mind when Katara looked right back.

Katara had never heard of Waterbenders anywhere but the north and south poles - it was strange to think that there was a whole other tribe hidden away in here. The woman in charge was clearly strong, wide-shouldered, and the headband that held back her hair was woven with a bright and lovely pattern, much like the designs that covered her shirt. There were earrings in her ears - bone, Katara thought - and, like everyone else, men and women alike, her skirt looked like it was made from thick grasses.

Nearly as striking as the weaving on her shirt were her tattoos: a tight, sharp pattern on her chin, and another circling her arm. However long they had been living here, it must have been a very long time, because Katara had never seen anything like it, in the north or the south.

The village stood on a bank between two massive old trees - most of the trees in the swamp were big, but these two were huge. The bank was formed at least partly out of the sort of net formed by the enormous tangle where the trees' roots had run into each other.

When the canoes pulled up beside it, steered neatly into place by the Waterbenders at their sterns, there was a woman already waiting for them - the tohunga, Katara guessed, and she smiled when she saw Katara. "It has been a long time since we've seen you," she said, "we thought perhaps you had gone," and then she turned, and glanced to the side.

Aang was there - he had been able to keep up with the canoes fairly easily, and he had drifted up to prod one of the great trees.

"You can see him?" Katara blurted.

"Wait, she can?" Sokka said.

The woman laughed. "I can," she agreed. "I have walked the paths many times, to cure illnesses or calm spirits or seek answers. There are many spirits that are close to you, Avatar, because of all the people you have been; but he is very close indeed." She turned to the woman who had brought them back. "It was right of you to bring them to me, Iyama," she said. "After all the strangers we have had to turn away to save our swamp, it will be good to have guests again."

***

The tohunga's name was Anaru, and before long she had them settled around a great fire-pit in the center of the village, right in front of the village meeting-house. It had been the Waterbenders who had moved the vines, so when Iyama slipped away for a moment, she came back with Yue's pike in her hands, damp but otherwise intact.

In the rush of excitement - because, Sokka thought, it was always a thrill when they didn't have to worry about getting killed - he had almost forgotten what had happened earlier, before he'd heard Katara shout and he had run away. But once they were seated around the fire with hot food in their hands, Katara turned to Anaru immediately. "I saw something," she said, "in the swamp," and Sokka abruptly didn't feel like eating anymore.

On her other side, Anaru nodded knowingly. "It is good luck to be touched so. If you are strong, the swamp will know it, and show you a piece of yourself - someone you know, often, to teach you."

Good luck, yeah. That was totally what Sokka had been planning to call it.

Suki, on Anaru's other side, was nodding. "I saw Kyoshi," she said. "The actual Kyoshi, I think, not a part of me - that's what she told me."

But Katara frowned. "I don't know," she said slowly. "I didn't - I mean, I don't know who I saw. And she didn't talk to me or anything; she just laughed and ran away."

Anaru smiled. "If you do not know her now, then you will soon."

Katara paused and glanced to the side, but before she could say anything, Anaru laughed again. "Yes," she said, "or something like it."

Sokka groaned, because that was the kind of thing he would have done if he weren't feeling sick and tied up inside. "Oh, not you, too," he said.

Anaru grinned. "The swamp cannot precisely show the future," she elaborated, for the benefit of everybody who couldn't hear dead guys when they asked questions. "But all things are connected to each other - everything in the world is related, touched somehow by something else. You and this girl have not yet met, but that does not mean you are not connected." She glanced at Katara. "You should know it better than anyone, Avatar. You have been so many people, and touched so many thousands more. In a sense, all of the world is part of your family."

***

Katara blinked and looked thoughtful for a minute, and then said something else; but whatever it was, Suki missed most of it, except for a bit about a boar. Sokka had set down his bowl abruptly a couple of minutes ago, and now he had suddenly gotten up. Yue had been sitting on his other side, and she was watching him walk away; when she turned back around, she raised her pale eyebrows at Suki, and jerked her head a little.

Suki suddenly remembered that look on his face in the swamp, the weird one that she hadn't quite been able to understand. She had only seen Kyoshi, and Katara had seen that odd girl; but Sokka, Sokka and Yue, must have seen something else. And whatever Yue had seen, it didn't have her abandoning her supper to stomp away from the fire.

She caught up with him just as he was rounding the back of a house, and reached out to grab his shoulder. "It wasn't real," she said.

He yanked his shoulder out of her grip, irritation written in every line of his face when he turned around. "What?"

"It wasn't real," she repeated. "Whatever it was that you saw, whatever it told you - it came from you. It was-" She tried to remember how Kyoshi had put it. "It might have been something true about you - about yourself, something that you want or something you're afraid of; but that's it. It's not unimportant, but it's not more than that, either."

Sokka shrugged his shoulders - not like he was uncertain, more like something was touching him and he wanted to get it away from him. "It showed Katara the future," he said roughly. "What if what I saw is going to-" He cut himself off.

"It showed Katara a girl that she might meet someday, from a distance," Suki said. "And a flying pig, I think she said. It doesn't sound like yours-"

"But you don't know," Sokka said.

"Mine was like yours," Yue said, and Suki turned around; she had followed them, and stopped a few feet away, looking at Sokka with quiet sympathy. "And mine wasn't the future. It was things I had been thinking of - things I did not want to hear. It hurt, but it hurt because I am afraid of it, right now."

Sokka still didn't look happy, precisely; but some sort of weight had left his eyes. "Come on," Suki said. "Come back and finish eating. We've been running around in circles in a swamp all day, don't try to tell me you aren't hungry."

He looked at her a little uncertainly, and then gave in, nodding. "Yeah, actually, I kind of am," he admitted.

And maybe he was quieter than usual for the rest of the evening, eating silently and neatly, and listening to Anaru's stories about the last Avatar from the swamp without yelling any interruptions. But he also didn't say anything when Suki switched seats so she could eat with one knee pressed against his; and when Katara drifted off and started snoring aloud, he had to work to muffle his giggling in Suki's shoulder.

***

Zuko stared at the woman's face, and tried to decide whether to ignore her or punch her.

"Beg pardon," Uncle said beside him, "I fear my nephew was not listening."

The woman smiled, gracious, like she was doing them a favor, and said it again. "If you have need, my nieces and nephews have not finished all their supper. If you could help me with the pig chickens, and perhaps with the sweeping, I would be glad to let you have what remains - and a space on the floor besides."

Zuko didn't know where to start - the sheer presumption, that they would even sink so low as to dine on what her family had left over-

"You are very kind!" Uncle said, and beamed, as though he truly meant it. "We would be glad to assist in any way we can, although we cannot accept the floor-" Ah - surely Uncle will keep a little dignity! "-unless you are certain we will not be a bother."

Zuko turned to gape at Uncle Iroh, because it was clear the woman was not the mad one here; but he was already moving, following the woman as she strode toward her door and nodding along to whatever she was saying.

Certainly, it had been a difficult road since they had left the Avatar temple behind. Uncle had argued that they would be safer from Azula the further they went into the Earth Kingdoms, and that the Avatar might well choose to avoid the front this time; so they had begun the long journey south around the mountains, in order that they might then head east up the Gao River. They had only a little money, and they certainly looked like peasants - but that didn't mean they were. What was Uncle thinking?

He meant to catch Uncle's shoulder, to yank him around to demand an answer; but when he reached out his hand, the woman smiled at him and put an old twig broom in it, and then hustled Uncle away behind the house to the source of the honk-clucking.

Zuko stared at it. It didn't look much like the fine hair brooms they used in the palace - nor even the ones they had kept on the ship to keep the deck clear.

After a moment, he realized there was someone looking at him - Uncle, he thought, coming back to tell him they were leaving; but when he looked up, there was only a child, sitting in the doorway and watching him with large round eyes.

They looked at each other warily. Eventually, the boy raised a hand; Zuko almost flinched, but he wasn't Earthbending, only holding out his arm and letting his hand flop limply from the wrist. "You do it like this," he said, earnest and too-loud, and flapped his hand back and forth, like the motion of a broom.

"I know," Zuko snapped. He truly must look pathetic, if a peasant child thought to educate him on the use of a broom.

The child looked unconvinced. "Well, are you gonna do it?" he said uncertainly.

Azula, Zuko thought, would have set the child on fire; but, as was a source of constant disappointment to everyone around him, he was not Azula. He sighed, and looked at the front step, the short stone walk that led to it. "If you tell anyone about this," he muttered, halfheartedly, "I'm going to kill you."

The child's eyes got even larger; Zuko almost hoped he would cry, so that someone would come and take him away, but he didn't.

Zuko sighed again, bent his back, and set the end of the broom to the first stone. One day, he was going to pay Uncle back for this humiliation.

*

He finished the sweeping before Uncle and the woman returned, the large-eyed child watching every moment, so, in the end, he didn't have to kill anyone. When the woman came back around the corner of the house and saw the child in the doorway, she laughed and lifted him into her arms.

"Hey, little Jin," she said fondly. "Did you help our friend?"

Zuko eyed the child, who stared at Zuko over his aunt's shoulder and then said, clearly thinking himself circumspect, "I told him what to do!"

The woman laughed, and carried the boy inside; and Uncle followed her nearly to the door before he realized Zuko wasn't behind him. "Nephew?" he said.

Zuko told himself he didn't want to yell when the woman might still hear him. "How can you bear to do this, Uncle?" he said, and if it came out so quiet that it sounded more like a real question than a demand for justification, he ignored it.

Uncle looked at him for a moment, and then touched his shoulder. "Dignity is a lovely thing, my nephew," he said, "but it will not share its food with you, or give you a place on its floor to rest. And if those things are what you need, what good is dignity to you?"

Zuko hated it when Uncle asked him questions like that. He never had a good answer. "We should - we should have made them-"

"We could have," Uncle said, his eyes heavy on Zuko's face. "But why take what we would be given for five minutes of sweeping and communion with a few pig chickens?" His hand tightened on Zuko's shoulder. "Do you really feel so much has been taken from you, nephew?"

Yes was the obvious answer, but for some reason it wasn't coming out of Zuko's mouth; and he was thinking of that stupid girl again, that girl and her leg, and how little her scar seemed to have taken from her.

Uncle squeezed his shoulder again, and then turned and went inside. Zuko stayed on the walk for a long moment, the broom still in his hand; but then his stomach growled, and, grudgingly, he began to climb the steps.

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