Chapter 4: The White Lotus

Looking back, he could never fully remember the journey back to the Fire Nation, or the days immediately following his return. He did, however, remember the first time he saw his brother's face staring down on him from the side of a building.

Iroh beckoned to an old man passing by. "I beg your pardon, but can tell me who that-" he pointed to the posted of Ozai, "is?"

The old man looked at him with wide eyes. "Lord Agni, hotman! Can it be that ye dinnae recognize th' face o' Firelord Ozai?"

"Firelord Ozai?" Iroh said. "Forgive me, I have been away for some time. What has happened to Firelord Azulon?"

"Ach! Ye be puttin' me on, hotman! How can it be that ye dinnae know that th' old Firelord has gone on to his eternal reward!"

"Azulon is... dead?"

"Aye. Died on th' same night that Firelady Ursa disappeared, an' wi' his dyin' breath declared that Ozai was to be his replacement, instead o' the fuddled Iroh. Very queer, it was."

"Thank you," said Iroh, absently. The old man hobbled away, muttering something about the apathetic younger generation.

Iroh stared at the poster of his brother for some time, and then tore his gaze away, turning his eyes toward the palace. After a moment's hesitation, he turned and walked in the opposite direction.

No particular destination in mind, he plodded down the street, much to the consternation of those who fell behind him.

"Get a move on, grandpa!" said a merchant as he wheeled his cart around Iroh. "This is a busy road!"

"I'm sorry," said the general, meekly. "Please excuse me." He turned and bowed. The merchant was long gone.

Sighing and stepping slightly out of the road, Iroh examined his surroundings. The passerby took no notice of him. Across the street, a sign painted with a picture of a White Lotus flower hung from a building. Looking both ways, he crossed and entered the tavern.

The interior was dim, lit only by a few candles placed haphazardly throughout the place. A short, middle-aged man with an impressive mustache stood behind the bar, polishing it with a rag and singing softly. Other than the bartender, the only other people within were an old man dozing behind a Pai Sho board in the corner and a rather plump female with 5 empty glasses in front of her. The woman stared dreamily at Iroh as he stepped further inside.

"What'll it be, stranger?" said the bartender, looking up from his polishing.

"Jasmine tea?" said Iroh hopefully. The bartender burst out laughing.

"Jasmine tea! If you want Jasmine tea, go down to the Tea Weevil! In the White Lotus tavern, we pour-" he sat a bottle and glass on the table- "firewater."

"That then," said Iroh, laying his money down and taking the firewater.

"Look on the bright side, friend," called the bartender as Iroh sauntered toward a table. "That tea wouldn't have taken that frown off your face! That firewater will make you forget you have a face!"

"Hey, quit all that yellin'!" The old man at the Pai Sho table had awakened. "I'm tryin' to concentrate on m' next move! How do you expect me to beat this gentleman?" He gestured to the empty chair across from him. He blinked.

"Huh?" grunted the old man. "Where'd he go?" The bartender and the fat woman laughed uproariously.

"Crazy old man!" said the fat woman. She turned her gaze on Iroh once again and whistled lewdly. "Why don'tcha come sit with me, handsome?" She picked up another glass and drained it.

Iroh, doing his best to ignore that advances of the fleshy female, walked to the Pai Sho table. At last, something familiar.

"May I have this game?" asked Iroh.

The old man nodded. "Might as well. Ain't no one else around to play with. The other two cheat." He spat on the floor.

"Making moves while you're sleeping isn't cheating, Rutherford!" jeered the bartender. The fat woman winked at him.

Rutherford scowled. "Well, that don't make no nevermind," he said. "Take a seat, stranger." He cleared the board. Iroh sat.

Iroh briefly considered his tiles, thinking of a strategy he had learned long ago, and, remembering the tavern's name, made his decision. He placed the White Lotus tile on the board.

Rutherford scratched at his stubbly chin. "I see you favor the White Lotus gambit," said the old man, his tone conspiratory. "Not many still cling to the old ways."

"I was taught to play long ago," said Iroh. "And in unusual circumstances."

The old man frowned, as if Iroh has given the wrong answer. He placed his own tile. "What sort of circumstances?"

Iroh shook his head. "It's of no importance," he said, sipping the firewater. He grimaced at the taste, but drank it down. He layed another tile on the board.

"Careful with that stuff," said Rutherford. "You'll end up with a real case of dragon breath. Literally!" The old man captured one of Iroh's pieces. "Your heart ain't in this game, son. What ails you?"

Iroh sighed. "You don't want to hear my troubles."

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't. I can tell you ain't in your right mind."

Iroh avoided the man's gaze. He took another drink of the firewater. He covered his face partially with one hand.

"I have been away from home for a very long time," Iroh said finally. "And now, at last, I've returned. But without my son. My son can never come home."

Rutherford's grizzled features softened. Reaching out, he touched the back of Iroh's hand. The general jerked away, and rubbed vigorously at his eyes. He turned his back on the old man.

"I know what it's like," said the old man, after a long silence, "losin' a child. I lost both my girls to the pox, some fifty year ago. There are no words for it. Why, if I could have, I would've gone into the Spirit World after them. But let me tell you-"

Iroh turned around, eyes blazing. "What did you say?"

"I said if I could've, I would have gone into the Spirit World-"

"That's it!" cried Iroh.

Rutherford eyed him warily. "What's it?"

Iroh almost didn't dare to say it. Then, a voice whispered in his ear, once again.

Father.

"I," said the general, slowly, "am going into the Spirit World."

"That were but a figure of speech, son! Go into the Spirit World, why, it ain't possible!"

"The Avatar has done it," said Iroh. "And so, if the legends are true, may an ordinary man, if he is near a spiritual place on the solstice."

"A spiritual place?" chimed in the drunken fat lady. "I know a spiritual place! A very spiritual place! The city was practically built around this place!" She collapsed on her table.

"You will not change your mind," said the old man. It was not a question. Rutherford regarded Iroh shrewdly across the table. At last, he nodded. The old man's tone changed.

"If your mind is truly made up, then leave this place now, and return on the solstice. We will lead you to a place of crossing between the two worlds." He rose and bowed. "Until then, General Iroh."

Iroh was dumbfounded. "How-" he began.

"Did I know who you were? Do you think I would not recognize the crown prince of the Fire Nation?"

"Nobody else did." The general stood.

"Perhaps nobody else had their eyes open," said Rutherford as he ushered Iroh out the door. "Until the solstice, General Iroh."

Closing the door, Rutherford hobbled back to his table. The fat woman instantly rose from her apparent drunken stupor, and the bartender ceased his singing and polishing.

"Do you think he's one of us?" asked the fat lady.

"No," said the bartender. "He gave the wrong response to Rutherford."

"But he played the White Lotus gambit." The fat lady pointed the Pai Sho board. "I am puzzled by this."

Rutherford studied the board. "Clearly, one of the Order taught him. Who, I do not know, but why is evident." He cleared the board. "He has great potential, but I sense a great struggle within him between hope and despair. This turmoil threatens to destroy him."

"What will he find in the Spirit World, Rutherford?" asked the fat lady.

"His destiny."