Avatar: The Last Airbender Created By: Michael Dante DiMartino, Bryan Konietzko
Avatar: The Last Airbender Owned By: Nickelodeon, a subsidiary of Viacom
All original content and characters © Acastus


Chapter II –The Merchant of Shanxi

The carriage continued on its journey along the moonlit road. Inside, Iroh and Zuko sat opposite their host on seats made of crushed, red velvet. The road was unpaved and full of potholes, but the ride within the coach was smooth.

"And what are you two called?" inquired the merchant, settling his enormous bulk on the seat.

"Uh, my name is Li and this is my uncle –"

"Xian," cut in Iroh, shooting a self satisfied grin at his nephew.

"Good, good! Now, when we get to the house, please don't stand on ceremony for me! We have more in common than you know. Twenty years ago I was a day laborer like you! Yes, I know it is hard to believe, but it's true. So no matter how bad things are, don't despair! Someday, if you work smart and you're lucky, you could end up like me!"

"We can only hope, Lord!" replied Iroh, raising his voice in a vain attempt to cover the snort of disdain that erupted from his nephew. "May I ask," continued the retired general, "how many people will be at the feast?"

"A wondrous question – and I shall answer! My guest list is the most extensive in the four plains region." Trimazu leaned forward and eagerly began counting off the guests on his fingers, "We'll have two ex governors of Shanxi province, half a dozen local magistrates, every property owner worth the name for forty leagues and the Minister of the Interior all the way from Ba-Sing-Se! Haha! And do you know what they all have in common? I'll tell you! They owe me money! Huge, whopping loads of it! So don't worry about your clothes or your scar young man – I see you trying to hide your face over there."

Zuko looked up at this comment, an expression of dull hatred etched upon his face.

"Nothing to be bashful about!" the merchant continued confidently, ignoring the Prince's ill concealed anger, "When they see you are my guests these unctuous fools will line up to kiss your beggar's arse, I promise you! We'll get a good laugh at them, eh?"

"Uh, yes, Lord, I daresay we will," replied Iroh.

"Everyone there except us will be noblemen of one sort or another, but don't be intimidated by their fancy dress and flowery words! Hehe, I can buy and sell every one of them and they know it. So don't feel out of place or inferior to these people, that's what they expect – don't give them the satisfaction! Just enjoy yourselves!"

Without stopping to catch a breath, the merchant boomed expansively, "Oh, and don't hesitate to pass wind at dinner if you feel the need, my friends. Why, last year at some feast or another I almost did myself a harm trying to hold up a mighty blast! Better to suffer a little malodorous inconvenience than risk one's health, don't you agree?"

Iroh, horrified, and desperately trying to ignore the strangling noises escaping Zuko's lips, replied uncertainly, "Uh, yes! Sounds, uh… liberating!"

Delighted, the fat man pointed an agreeable finger at Iroh and replied, "Exactly! Just the right word – liberating! See how much we have in common?" Zuko flinched visibly as the merchant continued, "I say let the Fire Nation fascists blow themselves to bits trying to restrain wind during their interminable ceremonies!" Then, adding in a conspiratorial tone, "You know, I hear tell that the court of the Fire Lord spends six or seven hours every day in some kind of ceremony! Receptions, audiences and the like! Every day!"

"Oh, more I should think," commented Iroh automatically.

Without registering Iroh's remark, Trimazu continued his musing, "I bet that's why old Azulon died! Wind, I tell you!"

Then, as if emerging from a trance, the fat man began to quickly look through the windows on each side of the carriage.

"Anyway, what the hell is going on here? My mother could walk faster than this and she's been dead for fifteen years. Okay, hold on a minute…" at this the merchant got up and stuck his head and torso out of the broken window and began to shout at the driver. Trimazu's ample behind wiggled vigorously within inches of Zuko's face as the tirade against his servant gathered momentum.

Zuko, aghast, and trying desperately to avoid the acrobatics of the merchant's rear end, leaned over to Iroh and whispered urgently, "Uncle, you can't expect me to sit through a meal with this…this pig! He's loud, obnoxious, and obsessed with bodily functions!"

"Consider the alternative, Prince Zuko. Would you rather travel all night on foot and risk capture?"

"Yes! We have nothing to fear from –," Zuko's emphatic reply was rudely interrupted by the merchant's back end slamming into his face.

Trimazu finished extricating himself from the window frame and turned around, saying, "Your pardon, Li! I had to set my driver straight there." The carriage indeed sped up as Trimazu sat down, facing them once again, and continued, "He's a good man, but not too bright. Don't want to keep the guests waiting too long – fashionably late is just fine, but ya can't miss the whole damn thing. There's a limit to the patience even of these greedy pikers!"

Curiosity getting the better of him, Iroh enquired, "Lord, if you hate these nobles so much, why do you have them as guests?"

"Ah! Well spoken! Because it's good business. They despise me as much as I do them, but we profit mightily from each other. Of course," he leaned over and once more adopted his conspiratorial tone, "truthfully, I delight in every opportunity to stick it to the nobility! Haha! Pallid, devious worms, the lot of them! I love embarrassing those who put on airs and think themselves better than everyone else! Pshaw! I put on airs, to be sure, but I hold myself in no more regard than you or my driver!"

"Indeed, Lord, that seems just as far as I can tell," commented Iroh dryly.

Iroh grimaced as Trimazu slapped him on the knee and boomed, "You're a good man, Xian! You and your nephew will feast well tonight. Soon we shall arrive at the summer house where the feast is to be held!"

Unable to restrain himself, Zuko asked acidly, "And what about those nobles who lead Earth Kingdom armies against the Fire Nation? Are they worms too?"

"No," came the suddenly serious reply, "They are better men than I! Yet all I can do for them is perfect my industry as best I may. The entire output of my mines and blacksmiths is consumed by the army – may the spirits grant them victory over the red tide that threatens to drown us all! I hope for the best on that score, though I fear the hope of the world now rests solely with the Avatar."

The barouche sped on into the night. Turning off the main road, the coach entered an open gate guarded by a stone watchtower. They continued along a winding, though well maintained, path deep into the merchant's sprawling summer home estate. Despite the ridiculous speed at which the driver now propelled them, it was still the better part of an hour before they reached the brightly lit villa.

Trimazu's summer home was an enormous edifice whose main entrance was composed of bronze double doors almost two stories high. The doors were flanked by two enormous fire pots and two guards in green who bowed as the merchant's party passed quickly inside. The drive was packed full of carriages and litters of varying sizes parked in neat rows – it was obvious that many if not all the guests had arrived.

They were ushered into the front entrance hall by two servants who busied themselves helping the merchant out of his heavy outer robe. All three of them removed their shoes upon entering, upon which a servant set them carefully beside the main door. Zuko stood erect, his arms crossed, staring defiantly at Trimazu, who failed utterly to take notice.

Iroh looked down at his own soiled clothing and began, "May my nephew and I wash before joining the feast, Lord?"

"Oh, no my friends!" cried Trimazu as he finished donning a vest of black material shot with threads of gold, "There's no time for that! The feast will taste no worse for your stench, I guarantee! Besides, it pleases me to know that my noble guests will have a chance to enjoy the aromatics of those who engage in such hard labor on their behalf! Haha! Let's go!"

Iroh groaned, but followed the merchant deeper into the house. Zuko walked alongside in stony silence.

"Remember, Prince Zuko," Iroh whispered, "to contain yourself, whatever happens. This is not the time to dwell on one's pride."

"I can think of no greater humiliation, uncle," Zuko replied in a low, threatening voice, "than to be used as some kind of cheap prop for a mindless, baboon of an ex-slave to ridicule his betters. We can't possibly sink any lower than this."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that."

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