Overlooked
posted August 19, 2009
Despite his brief nap, fatigue tried to claim Zuko over and over that evening. The evening meal stretched over several courses, dried fish and meats, stewed berries poured over a savory white mush, and more of the thin, salty soup from earlier, and once again, slaves ate the same foods as their owners – though they were served last.
Too tired for more than token protest, Zuko allowed himself to be seated a few handspans behind the woman and her children, themselves seated behind Sokka and the older man, Hakoda. The old woman sat on Hakoda's other side on a thick cushion that would have elevated her above all others, save for her own diminutive stature.
Though Sokka had greeted Zuko with a friendly slap on the back, startling him and making the chieftain laugh, he now showed a different side as he helped Akiak eat with stern patience. When the boy pushed his bowl aside, knocking it to the ground with a clatter, Sokka picked it up and frowned, his voice sharp as he chastised the boy. Akiak stuck his slower lip out, looking as if he were about to cry, but Sokka said another stern word, tipping his chin up and giving him a reserved smile. Akiak's lip trembled, but he sniffled and did not cry and Zuko idly pondered this change from the laughing chieftain who greeted him like kin.
Zuko finished his own meal and leaned back, resting his weight against a wooden tier and debating whether it was worth a potential fight to lay down and sleep. He must have made some sound, because Akiak suddenly turned to him, distress still visible in his expression; the boy scrambled to his feet and toddled to Zuko, climbing into his lap and hiding his face against Zuko's chest. Zuko looked down, bemused but reluctantly charmed, then noticed that the lively conversation a few feet away had ceased.
Sokka and his sister stared at him, the chieftain amused, the woman annoyed. Zuko returned their stares with one of defiance. "You wanted me to look after them, so here I am, looking after them," he said in his own language, his voice still hoarse.
Sokka laughed and pushed his sister affectionately; she muttered and turned away as Tahnra's head popped into view from the lower tier. Her eyes widened as she saw Akiak leaning against him, and she scrambled up to settle herself beside Zuko, talking rapidly as she pulled one of his arms around her narrow shoulders. Sokka laughed harder at this, pointing at the woman as she hunched into herself, and Zuko wondered at the subtleties he missed.
Their attention was soon drawn away as female slaves moved forward to bank the fire and clear the remains of the meal away. Sokka stood and his sister beside him to allow a slave to place bowls inside the chest they sat on; the chieftain stretched and said something to the woman, then walked towards the crone still presiding over the lodge. The woman watched him go, then turned to glare at Zuko again; he defied her this time by closing his eyes and leaning his head back, but she made no audible response.
He must have fallen asleep, as the noise of drums and chants roused him with a start. Akiak still lay on his chest, breathing deeply, but Tahnra was absent; Zuko looked up to see her seated between her mother and Sokka again, clapping her hands. Dancers moved on the wide platform behind where the crone had been seated, wild figures with huge, grotesque masks who crouched and leapt to the drumbeats.
Their motions reminded him of the warriors who had captured him, so he closed his eyes and leaned his head back again, listening to the drums and ignoring the dancers' cries and the audience's chants.
He woke the second time to feel Akiak being drawn away; he opened his eyes to see the woman straightening, the boy in her arms. "Up," she whispered, and Zuko rose to his feet with a yawn. She looked up at him, her expression hidden in the dark, but Zuko felt somehow that he was surprised by his obedience. Wait, he thought again, gritting his teeth. Just wait.
The woman turned, jerking her head for him to follow, and he did after a moment, picking his way through the house after her. She lay Akiak down on a wide platform, piled with furs and woven blankets and Tahnra sprawled bonelessly across one side, then turned back to Zuko and pointed to the floor beside it. "Here," she whispered. "You. Here. Sleep."
"I was sleeping," he muttered, but she either didn't hear or chose to ignore him as she climbed onto the bed beside Akiak, turning her back to him and laying still. Zuko watched them for a moment, then settled down into the indicated space. It was covered with a mat woven from grass or reeds, with two coarse blankets folded beside.
As Zuko stretched out beneath the larger blanket, he thought distantly of the eastern plantations, the emaciated slaves chained and whipped and worked so brutally that they seldom lived more than two years once purchased, but his always-present temper simmered and he refused to allow any feelings of gratitude to surface.
Zuko roused at dawn, though he felt the absence of the sun, hidden behind thin clouds visible through the smoke hole. Yesterday's fatigue had faded, but as he stretched and sat up, his skin felt grimy, paint and grease and dust coating him. He grimaced in distaste, then raised his head to survey the lodge's occupants. Faint snores greeted his scrutiny, and none stirred. Night people, he thought suddenly, remembering the evening's feasting and dancing, and smiled as he rose quietly to his feet.
His stomach rumbled as he picked his way carefully along the beach to the sea, reminding him of the weakness that remained after the journey to this village. Grey clouds hung low over the forest and the water, obscuring the far shore and bringing a chill to the air. Zuko drew warmth from the hidden sun, discarding his loincloth on the beach and wading into the water.
The sea had not warmed since yesterday's forced plunge, but he ignore the cold as he sluiced water over his arms and back, scrubbing himself as best he could and then making a shallow dive away from the shore. Zuko allowed himself to savor the swim, a small act of defiance and more importantly a chance to clean himself. As he stepped slowly back to the beach, he scrubbed his arms again; faint blue stains and traces of grease remained on the skin, but he felt vastly better for the experience. He let himself air-dry, looking out over the sullen water and stretching languorously until footsteps across the rocks alerted him to her presence.
"You," the woman growled, but he ignored her to finish his stretch before turning. She wore a patterned blanket over her shoulders and a woven hat painted with flowing figures; her eyes remained steadily on his face, Zuko noted, but was that a hint of a blush? "You," she repeated, gesturing to him, the lodge, the water.
He shrugged and stooped to pick up his loincloth. "Wash," he said as he wrapped it about his waist; her eyes narrowed as she stared at him, then she threw up her arms as if exasperated.
"I. You. Go," she said, pointing at the lodge with color in her cheeks but irritation in her glare, and he shrugged. She watched him as he walked carefully back up the shore, and a light, misting rain began to fall as he heard her follow him across the rocks.
Days passed in similar routine, rising, bathing, eating, watching Tahnra and Akiak while the woman taught or occasionally practiced alone, eating, dancing, sleeping… Zuko found himself wondering how the food for the meals remained steady, as he had yet to seen warriors return with meat from a kill or women with baskets of plants and nuts.
Through the routine, Zuko watched, learning the pattern, the small actions that made up each day, as strength lost to fever and infection returned with steady meals and the slow movement of spring toward summer. Days wet with a light rain were followed by blustery winds that rattled the lodge, and Sokka showed him how to drape the smaller blanket around his shoulders in a cloak as effective as oiled canvas.
He saw many details of life in the water tribe; Sokka commanded the warriors, but Hakoda commanded Sokka, and the old crone who appeared to be Hakoda's mother presided over every decision of importance. The woman and several others bent water and together trained younger girls, but no men seemed to practice this ability. Both men and women engaged themselves in crafts, weaving baskets or carving wood into vessels and paddles and boxes or repainting the lines that defined the lodges. Female slaves tended the hearths but free women cooked; male slaves accompanied their male owners to tie nets, inspect canoes, and perform countless unnamed small tasks.
More interesting to Zuko, the baskets that provided drinking water to the lodge were filled in the afternoon and usually neared empty by late morning. Male members of the household often ate their mid-day meals elsewhere, and sometimes nearly everyone ate outside, taking advantage of the fine spring weather. On many days following this meal, only elders and mothers with young children remained in the lodge, fussing over their toddlers and infants in ways that mystified Zuko and that he found himself excluded from.
All of this seemed choreographed to a rhythm foreign to Zuko, but he observed it nonetheless as he endured the woman's alternating silence and sharp comments with only minor protest, a turned head or a petty refusal or words muttered angrily under his breath. The rest of the house and the tribe watched Zuko with expressions that ranged from curious to shy to occasionally hostile, but mostly they avoided him as he followed the woman, guiding or carrying her children and keeping them from mischief or harm, and an idea slowly took shape.
One afternoon, not long after his capture and with the summer solstice still distant, the mothers fussed over their children, hurrying their usual tasks to gain the rare sunshine faster. Even many of the elders had left their usual places in the lodge to sit on rocks or logs washed onto the beach and talk of days gone by, or whatever those who have reached a rare age talk of.
Zuko knew this as he knew that the warriors and craftsmen would not return until the evening meal and that the young waterbenders already waited by the stream for their instructor. He also knew that this was likely the best opportunity that would come to him, and so when the woman moved past where he sat on the wooden floor, he lunged.
She lurched off balance as he caught her around the shoulders with one arm and pulled her against him and pinned her arms to her sides; he trapped her legs between his and curled himself over her before she could break away. He knew that none of those left in the lodge were warriors, but still he showed his determination by extending his hand and calling fire from the air with the gesture and setting it to dance along his upturned palm.
She stiffened and those women still in the lodge gasped and Zuko knew he was the center of attention as he had been during the auction, when he stood alone and refused to bow his head before them. "I go," he hissed in the trade jargon, his voice low and cracking, and he felt a tremor run through her as she stared at the flames.