Chapter 8, ghost
The White Lily Garden was Appa's home. It was little more than a plain field, covered with low thick grass and shrubs of the flower that it was named for. The Fire Lord had it built in the year following the Last War after the Avatar had finally decided to make his home in the Fire Nation. Perhaps Appa would have preferred a home in the clouds, like the place of his birth in the Eastern Temple, far away on the other side of the world. Zuko had considered building a gigantic tower and converting the highest levels to an earthly paradise for the creature. But Aang had been too afraid of Appa killing himself in a vain attempt to fly, and he would never let the bison be shackled or caged in any way, not even for the most benign of reasons.
Never again.
Many people believed that the Avatar's animal guide had died in the war and the Fire Lord encouraged their belief. Whether or not the Avatar approved, Zuko had no idea.
No one ever talked to the Avatar about his bison.
The garden was walking distance from the Avatar's living chambers and cordoned off from everyone but the Fire Lord, Jin – a young boy who had taken a liking to Appa in the circus and had been handpicked by Zuko to be his feeder – and of course, the Avatar himself. But as Aang rarely ever came to see his bison, it was basically just down to Zuko and Jin.
So that was why it was an enormous surprise for Zuko to see a strange woman in the White Lily Garden one fine morning.
He had been standing at the balcony overlooking the Garden, idly watching Appa sleep and considering state affairs: the appropriateness of inviting the widowed Northern Water Tribe chief to the Fire Carnival; the quarterly updates of the factories in Ba Sing Se; the increase in security allocation for its regent and said regent's politely grating refusal to return to the Fire Nation, even briefly, when a flash of red against the backdrop of white and green had caught his eye. He stiffened automatically at the sight of a complete stranger approaching the bison. No sooner had he gripped the banister with one hand to jump to Appa's rescue –between his and the Avatar's enemies, it was a wonder that both of them had lived this long – when someone came literally flying into the scene on a familiar glider and landed on Appa's head.
The bison opened his mouth and gave a disgruntled roar.
Aang. It shouldn't have been so astonishing. It wasn't that he never visited his bison. Every now and then, he'd get miserable enough or guilty enough or – on that one occasion – drunk enough and pay Appa a visit that usually ended badly for the both of them. At this last thought, Zuko tensed. He owed the bison – Appa had saved his life – and Zuko wouldn't let anyone, not even Aang, ever hurt him.
From that far above, Zuko could not make out what Aang said to Appa when he landed before him; whatever it was caused Appa to grunt and close his eyes promptly. Apparently, this was not the response Aang wanted and he proceeded to prod and pull at Appa to wake him up, occasionally bouncing up and down to get his attention. The woman sat down on the grass and watched both of them. After a series of failures, Aang finally gave up and he collapsed against Appa's bulk, throwing his head back, his shoulders shaking and his mouth open.
With a thrill of shock that almost sent him over the balcony, Zuko realized that Aang was laughing.
Aang never laughed. Or if he did, not near where people could see or hear. He certainly never laughed around Appa.
Perhaps Zuko was mistaken. He certainly hadn't seen Aang laugh enough times to recognize how he looked when he did. He had almost convinced himself of this when another's reaction bore him witness. Appa's enormous eyelids had lifted and his head twirled to face at Aang. Aang fell silent at once, and the two of them just stared at each other.
Then the bison roared and Aang sprang into the air and jumped on him, roaring as well with laughter that must have been muffled against Appa's fur. He was holding his friend as tightly as his arms could go round the enormous bulk and his shoulders were shaking.
Zuko had seen Aang cry too many times not to recognize this.
The woman, clearly not alarmed at this irrational display or the sight of a suddenly awake, very loud bison, just leaned back against the grass and watched them.
The woman.
Zuko had paid next to no attention to the healer's companion when old Hama had arrived in the Fire Palace that bright morning. The Fire Lord had been desperate, and then relieved that he hadn't needed to resort to extreme measures to persuade the old innkeeper-cum-healer – infamous for picking and choosing her patients – to obey his summons. Then when she had finally arrived, he had been too taken aback by her outrageous demand of unsupervised access to the Avatar to give the novice more than a passing glance. After weeks of failed attempts by the Temple sages, the best Fire medicine-men and the most earnest healers from the Northern Water tribe, old Hama the witch – as she was referred to by her neighbors – had been Aang's last chance.
Only according to Aang, he didn't owe his life to the healer but the apprentice – the girl Kya who was, if Aang was to be believed, Katara of the Southern Tribe.
Zuko studied her now, or what he could make of her from that distance. She was resting on her elbows in the grass and watching Aang who had settled cross-legged in front of Appa's eyes and was apparently filling him in on the past two years.
(Aang talking to Appa!)
She was dark, but not as dark as Water people usually were. There was definitely nothing of the Water tribeswomen in her style of dressing which was a plain peasant red, covering her from neck to feet. Many foreigners, and particularly the Water people, found the Fire Nation's heat oppressive; the bare-shouldered, mid-riff baring style was the first thing to give away a non-local.
But if she really was Katara of the Water tribe, she could have been in the Fire Nation for five years.
(Igloos turned black with smoke.)
That was enough time to acclimatize, to adapt and blend in so completely that no one would ever know where she came from.
A Water tribeswoman hiding but living free in the Fire Nation during the war. It seemed impossible. It sounded impossible.
Aang laughed again. Zuko came out of his dark thoughts in time to see Appa's long, red tongue loll out and lick the healer's apprentice who was called Kya but might be Katara of the Water tribe. Whatever she was, she had Aang obsessed enough with her to consider abduction, happy – happy! –enough around her to laugh, and affectionate enough around her to reconcile with Appa.
Appa who Aang had once described, that drunken night, as the 'avatar of all my failures'.
Aang who the best healers had all tried to cure and failed.
"Now, that's something you don't see every day."
He jumped slightly, and then laughed self-consciously as he felt his wife's arms go around his chest. Mai's cheek rested against his back and he sighed, letting go of the banister to hold her hands against him.
"There are days when I won't dare to approach Appa, and there he is licking a complete stranger."
Mai's laughter echoed in his chest. "Actually I was talking about Avatar Aang sharing his lady friend with the world. The servants whisper that neither of them has left his rooms since the day she arrived here."
"Indeed? What-?"
"No, no, you're not interested in that," she teased, laughing. "You're worried about Appa making new friends. Jealous he'll forget you?"
Zuko's eyes didn't lift from Appa's new friend who had finally stood up and was burying her fingers inside Appa's fur. The bison rumbled contentedly while Aang hovered above both of them, talking and smiling and not stopping being happy.
Careful, political smiles. Vindictive smiles after a hard-won victory. Smirks.
Never laughter. Never this mad joy.
(The wet wolf-tail in the centre of the spreading red snow. The ground melting beneath his feet.)
"No, I'm not jealous."
His voice must have given him away. Mai's weight lifted from him, and he could feel the sudden worry in the eyes that pierced his back. "Then what? What is it?"
It was said that the greatest healers in the world were water-benders.
"I'm afraid."
