WELL THAT TOOK LONGER THAN I INTENDED. All apologies to anybody who's been waiting the YEARS it's taken me to finish this, and thank you so much for your patience! (If it helps, I should be able to post this book very regularly and very quickly, as aside from minor edits it's essentially done.)
.*.
"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 gray—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 near 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."
.*.
(1) 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.