Chapter 4

The men were seated at a small table: the Prince, with his hands on the table, opposite the Captain, who sat forward on his elbows. Between them, the General, who sat back in his chair with an observant look on his face. The Prince and the Captain stared at each other – the latter looking as if he were about to make a business deal; the former looking as if he had an utmost contempt for the man he just met.

"What are you doing here?" Zan finally asked, looking the young heir directly into his peculiar yellow eyes.

"I came for you lookout," he said simply. Zan waited for him to elaborate, but he realized that the Prince did not have that sort of character.

"Why?" he asked.

The Prince glanced at the Captain as quickly as he glanced away. "That's none of your business."

Zan narrowed his eyes. "It is my damn business what you want with my lookout, and unless you can give me a reason otherwise, we're done here," Zan pushed his chair back to stand up, but the Prince had already leapt up from his seat, and was leaning over the table – light smoke was coming from his nostrils, which reminded the Captain of an angry bull being teased by a matador.

"Zuko!" Came the angry, raspy voice of the General, who knew that a reminder of his presence would restrain the Prince from acting upon his anger. He was correct, for the youth returned to his seat while his uncle turned to the Captain. "Surely you must have noticed how your lookout is a very fine young woman, and that it would be impossible to keep her as a member of your crew for much longer." The General's good argument and naturally persuasive voice were beginning to have an effect upon the Captain. "She should be living as a normal young woman."

"You mean that I should marry her off," Zan concluded. "To who?" He gestured to the Prince.
"Him?"

The General smiled, trying to be civil for his nephew's sake, who was angrily sitting and watching the two men, as a child watches a game he is forbidden from playing. "My nephew can offer her a life you would never be able to – not as a pirate."

"She's only fifteen," Zan protested, shaking his head. "I'm not about to marry her off at such a young age to a boy who doesn't look much older."

"How dare you speak to me like that," the lad spoke up, seething. "I am Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, son of Fire Lord Ozai, grandson of former Fire Lord Azulon – "

"I know exactly who you are," Zan cut him off, "Your highness. And it is all the more reason to deny you of your stupid request."

There was a pause, as the Prince was considering something. Zan sat there, watching him contemplate while the General silently wondered what could be taking the tea so long.

"If you won't give her…" the Prince began slowly, "…will you sell her?"

The Captain snorted. "I'm not in the slave trade."

It was then that the door swung open and Sayuri entered, carrying a tray on which an old ceramic teapot and three matching cups were precariously balanced. Only the Captain was positioned so that he faced away from her, but only Zuko remained staring at her as she placed a tea cup in front of each of them. Sayuri kept her eyes down.

Across from him, Sayuri filled her captain's cup with the steaming liquid, carefully holding the handle and the top of the pot as to not burn herself or spill any tea. Zuko continued to watch her as she poured the tea for his very pleased uncle, but even if she felt his eyes on her, he couldn't tell as she flawlessly began to pour his own cup.

"I can offer you three hundred gold pieces right now," the Prince said. Had he still been focused on Sayuri's tea-pouring, instead of turning to her captain, he would have noticed her hand shake slightly and miss the cup for just a second, as her eyes leapt to Zan to see his response. Yet his face remained as unchanging and unreadable as stone.

"Don't make me repeat myself," he said as Sayuri set the teapot down. The General, who had been gratefully sipping his tea, had noticed her.

"Please, sit down," he said, motioning to the empty seat across from him. Sayuri tried to keep her face expressionless, but the suspicion of the old man's invitation was too much for her to repress.

"I'll stand, thanks," she replied, moving to the wall behind her seated captain. As she passed, he gave her the same no-foolishness look he had worn once earlier that day as a warning. She leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, silent.

From her position Sayuri saw her captain's dark, dirty hair resting carelessly on the back of his head, the withered profile of the foreign General and the piercing yellow eyes which stared defiantly back at her suspicious ones. Despite the warning look she had just received, she couldn't help herself from asking the question which had plagued her mind since she first saw the feared insignia on the deck only moments ago (had it really been such a short time? It seemed like decades to her):

"How did you fine me?"

Zan's head snapped quickly to the side, so that he could see her out of the corner of his eye. Sayuri glanced briefly at his irate, warning eyes, but her focus was drawn back to the Prince in front of her, with only her captain between them.

"Finding a young female lookout on a pirate ship is not hard," the Prince said to her in an unwavering, if slightly arrogant tone, "And even easier when the correct oracles are called upon." Sayuri slowly took in a deep breath at this to calm her newly increased pulse, but she kept her eyes with his, so as to outwardly show that she was not afraid.

"There are plenty of girls who would gladly marry a prince," Zan reasoned, his tone lower and more irritated. "Go to the nearest harbor, and I guarantee you'll find one much more…" he struggled with his phrasing, "…suitable for your tastes."

The Prince looked back at Sayuri and thought quickly. "Not any who are truly accustom to sea-life as your lookout is. I will not be returning home for a while and I don't need a weak-stomached companion."

Sayuri scoffed at his attempt to mask his true intentions. "Companion, you say?"

Zan's head tilted downward at a side angle, not looking at her. "Lassie," warned his deep, husky voice, almost growling at her. Sayuri drew back slightly, almost invisibly, knowing she would be in trouble later.

The young lad across the table witnessed the exchanged and caught Sayuri's reaction. "I'll go no higher than three hundred and fifty gold pieces," he said, looking straight at the girl. "That is my final offer."

"Get off my ship," Zan growled, his eyes shooting daggers in the young man's direction, and his voice dripping with disgust.

The General, wishing to avoid further conflict, stood up from the table and looked toward Zan amiably. "It is getting rather late," he explained, "We should be getting along back to our own ship. Prince Zuko?"

The addressed rose as well, and Sayuri moved to open the door for them – by this point she would have done anything to get these two out of her sight faster. But even as she refused to look in their direction, she could feel those yellow eyes gazing at her, and she was tempted, like an itch she forbid herself from scratching.

"I'll give you until dawn," he said simply, walking toward Sayuri more than to the door. He paused before stepping out, carefully studying her features as if Sayuri were a piece of meat in a butcher's shop. She stood there, silently seething, maintaining all her self control to not gouge out his eyes right there.

Pushing his nephew out, the General followed, smiling kindly at Sayuri. "Thank you for the tea. It was delicious."