The rain fell steadily through the morning, hampering the Firelady's return; the road up to the capital was slick and muddy. Thuza took up position on a meditation rug under the outer eaves just inside the palace gates, where he drew out a finely edged scroll and read to pass the time, taking diligent notes. Finally, midway into the afternoon, the horns that preceded the opening of the great gates sounded, and he gathered himself languidly, wrapping his reading materials inside of the rug and sending it off with one of the slaves.
As the royal procession drew nearer, Thuza walked out to meet the Firelady, stopping a good four feet in front of her palanquin to prostrate himself on the ground before her. When several moments had passed, he raised his head cautiously to the level of her knees, keeping his eyes respectfully downcast. In his peripheral vision he could just make out the figure of Ty Lee crouched behind her, hidden behind the layers of veils draped over the palanquin, her eyes glittering in their shadows like a cat's.
"My lady, it is my great honor to welcome you home."
"You may rise." Nimbly she leapt down from the platform and gestured for the bearers to take it away with Ty Lee still inside. Thuza adopted a servile posture, with his hands clasped at the base of his back. His slitted amber eyes, like a bird of prey's, roamed restlessly as they walked side by side toward the heart of the inner courtyard, into the main palace building where Azula's quarters were.
"I hope the report you received was satisfactory, Firelady." Neither seemed bothered by the rain, which had gradually turned into a fine mist, but the corner of Azula's mouth twitched in annoyance at his tone.
"Drop the honorifics. It was good of you to send it out in advance of my return, but there didn't seem to be anything in it about the civilian issues we discussed previously." She seized upon this small criticism primarily to see how he would react, but he remained unperturbed.
"It was my understanding that you no longer wished to be informed on those matters. I have kept the records, and there is new intelligence, but I have arranged, as you instructed, to discuss it with Mai. If you should wish otherwise – "
His insensitivity, or feigned indifference, to her subtle shifts in mood was both refreshing and, given the mild amusement which it customarily provided her with, also slightly unnerving. She waved him off, stepping aside so that the heavy doors to the inner palace could be opened for them. "No, no. I trust the two of you to take care of such trifles."
Thuza waited until they were inside, and several slaves were removing Azula's armor, to continue: "There is one item that was not included in the report, as we received the hawk only yesterday." From one of his voluminous sleeves, he withdrew a tattered parchment.
One immaculate arch of an eyebrow rose, but she made no movement, he arms still held out at her sides so that her breastplate could be removed, and waited as the slaves took down her thick hair. "I expect it's something urgent if you're so eager to show it to me."
"In my humble judgment, it is." She could almost see him choking on the suppressed Highness. Then, to her surprise, his gaze shifted over her left shoulder and seemed to unfocus. From behind her, she heard the timid inquiry,
"Issumatak, may I…?"
The overseer inclined his head, and a shiver ran over her body as the moisture in her hair and her clothes was waterbent from her. Lowering her arms, she took the parchment from Thuza's still-outstretched hand without further comment, and scanned it. She recognized the violent, sloppy handwriting, and though only a few characters were legible she discerned its contents with ease. Between two of her fingers she lit it, and casually tossed it over her shoulder in the general direction of the waterbender. Thuza made as if to go after it, but stopped himself as she continued walking, and he was obliged to keep page with her.
"Very well. Have the East Wing prepared for my brother, and…I don't know. Shall we have the royal nursery outfitted as a temporary prison?" Azula laughed to herself, an expression of delight which was robbed of its expressiveness by the lack of tone. "In any case, I'll send a reply this evening with instructions."
He inclined his head in a near-imperceptible bow. The floor-length thob he favored, dyed so deep a shade of crimson that it was nearly black, and his shaven pate gave him a curious, monkish appearance. His skin was dark for a citizen born in the former Fire Nation; he knew it, and conducted himself accordingly. Perhaps his impressive record with the slaves was due to this fact, Azula mused idly as she scrutinized him. He kept his eyes politely averted, pretending not to notice. Here was a man with no ambition beyond his station whatsoever, but a steadfast zeal for his exact position; precisely the sort of underling she appreciated. People ought to fit into their correct places, like a well-oiled clockwork.
"For now, have two of the best court scribes and one of the Fire Crones sent to my quarters." She watched as he made note of it, and commented, looking for his reaction, "Courtship is such tedious exercise."
Not even a flicker of distaste. "As you wish. The customary arrangements for your personal servants have also been made, as you requested."
"Oh? Good. I hope they've got some spirit in them; the last few weren't much fun." This, finally, seemed to leave some impression on him, and he bowed low, ostensibly to demonstrate his apologies for her displeasure, though she suspected actually it was to hide his face. Well, no mind, for now. "I'll call for you sometime in the next several days."
She watched his figure become smaller and smaller as he strode away through the long marble hallway, his pace and posture unchanging, his hands still clasped behind his back, and waited until he had vanished fully to slip into her chambers, biting down on a grotesque smile.
The attendant to Mai's quarters permitted Thuza's access automatically, a stipulation she herself had made. He greeted her only slave warmly, and she went to brew them unasked-for tea. After exchanging a number of pleasantries, Thuza produced a report and showed it to her, explaining,
"I didn't wish to trouble your mistress, but the situation is steadily growing worse. The number of enforcers at our disposal is dwindling. The Phoenix King continues to call them out to aid in quelling the resistance. The people in the cities are starving and miserable; those in the country suffer from last year's drought. Pirate activity has significantly decreased our imports. We are working on transferring to a system of submarine transport, but there is no way to feed the entire country." He indicated for her the relevant sections of the report, and she listened intently as she brushed her hair. There was nothing, finally, that she could offer in return to him, and she held out one hand in an expression of helplessness.
"Azula was very clear. She doesn't want any civilians to leave the boundaries of the former Fire Nation."
"I understand." At her invitation, he joined her at the small table and helped himself to a cup of tea. "I had thought to dispatch some of the slaves to work in the fields. Some can conjure water from the air. It will raise morale for the people to have slaves of their own."
Mai noted how her slave listened to the exchange with interest. She was a new girl, and looked barely thirteen; the weapons specialist hadn't asked for her name yet, and didn't intend on it. It was unwise to become close to slaves. "Won't that make the situation more unstable? Who's going to control all of them?"
"If they don't work, they starve, too. None of them value freedom over their lives." Thuza's expression was inscrutable, but his voice had a gentle, almost teasing lilt to it. "I have personally ensured that it is so." The slave, hearing this, shuddered a little, clutching at one shoulder with her opposite hand.
"I'll speak to her about it."
"That is all I ask. It would not do well for our nation to neglect its people, and certainly not with such capable resources on our hands." Thuza rose, but before taking his leave he commented, "There is one small matter about which I wanted to inform you."
She paused in her combing, signaling that she was listening.
"An item of personal interest, I suspect. The former prince is on his way back to the capital."
The comb clattered to the table, and she did not bother to grasp after it. "Zuko?"
"Mm. With the Avatar in his possession. He intends to throw himself on his sister's mercy, I suppose." Now the overseer was smiling, an ugly expression. "I thought you would like to know."
Her calm regained, she stared out of the high window in her quarters. The grey was oppressive, though not as much as the opulence of her quarters, which had been re-done in her absence without her knowledge or consent. "Thank you."
"Of course. When the time comes, I know you will remember me in kind."
She did not relish imagining what he could mean by this comment, and brushed it aside with a polite and vague inclination of her head.
As Thuza was shown out by the young slave, she fingered the needles lining the sleeves of her robe and her breath quickened, remembering the iron will it had required to steel her hand and plunge the dagger into Zuko's thigh. It sunk in easily, missing the bone; she had been close enough, in that instant, to smell him, and the memory made her dizzy.
She had faltered, and missed her mark. Dazed, she bore up under her punishment later with forbearance, leaving Azula dissatisfied at the mildness of Mai's reaction to the pain to which she was subjected. Bored, she'd given up rather than push the issue, warning her not to let it happen again, and instead took her sour mood out on Ty Lee, which in truth hurt Mai more than her own punishment.
By what proxy would Azula torture her now that Zuko was on his way? Probably her feelings did not cross the Firelady's mind with the child-Avatar at stake; but it was no consolation. Azula could smell a drop of blood or sweat in a vast ocean; even if awareness and manipulation of Mai's emotions was not a priority or intention of hers, she would certainly be aware of how her actions affected her incidentally, and enjoy the knowledge.
Unbidden, rage rose within her, and she dashed the comb with its delicate filigree to the table, splintering it into pieces. Behind her she was aware of the slave-girl cowering in fear, no doubt wondering what sort of person was her new mistress. For a moment, she was glad to be thought of as wild and cruel, before her anger burst and the tears came, and she buried her face into her hands.
Their progress through the jungle was slower than Zuko had imagined it would be, judging from the speed at which they had been pursued. The stress of traveling in a group made Jet uneasy, and slowly started a nervous twitch in the right side of his body. As they walked he paced round them in circles like a caged wolf, occasionally speaking nonsense to no one in particular. Zuko tried to ignore him, but Amit followed him with his eyes with an expression like fear on his face. Finally he took Zuko's hand and would not release it. The firebender permitted it, though not without exasperation.
That night, when camp had been made and dinner eaten (Jet had dragged his portion half cooked off into the foliage to eat alone, but then returned to resume watching them with wild eyes) Zuko attempted to make conversation with the terrorist. "Jet."
He paused in his relentless circling. Zuko motioned for him to sit, but he remained where he stood, staring suspiciously at the former prince. Deciding that being direct was the best way to go about it, Zuko asked, "Why are you working for the Firelady? I thought you hated the Fire Nation."
Finally he did move, kneeling by the fire and opening his palms, as if to firebend. "And I thought you and your uncle weren't firebenders." The twitching was more pronounced, now, as he stirred the embers of the campfire with a broken branch. His eyes seemed to glaze over as he gazed, intently, into the flames. Finally, when so much time had passed that Zuko was sure he didn't intend to give him an answer, he continued, "I don't work for her. She owns me."
Amit, who slept uneasily at the fireside at Jet's demand, stirred a little but did not wake.
"I owe her a debt. She saved my life." The words came out muffled by the scarf and strangled with strange emotion, though the expression of the half of his face which was uncovered remained relatively placid. Only the sharp brows were knit over his eyes, the pupils unnaturally large in the firelight.
Zuko surmised that he was speaking of his time in Ba Sing Se, where Sokka had claimed he'd died. If his sister had saved him, probably it was only a matter of applying pressure to the same throat she herself had slit. "Some debts can only be repaid in blood."
At the apex of another tremor, Jet made a noise that could have been a laugh had it not sounded like the wet slap of a human skull connecting with a brick wall. "I intend to."
Azula lay as inert as a sunbathing mink-snake on a chaise lounge while her new retinue fussed over her – washing her hair, exfoliating the soles of her feet and the palms of her hands, spreading a facial cream over her high cheekbones. She inhaled and caught the scent of mint, and approved. Thuza was distasteful, but an apt overseer; he had been honest when he claimed he'd trained these slaves to her liking.
A knock came at the door and she waved one lazy hand, approving when the slave who had been massaging it stepped back quickly. Ty Lee caught her gesture and its meaning, and rose to answer the knock. When she did not return immediately, Azula waved the attendants off and dismissed them to her inner chambers. Ty Lee was still at the door, engaged in a conversation with a guard whose uniform was not palace issue. Frowning, she gathered her robe and tied it off, then joined Ty Lee.
"Firelady, these men have come from your admirer, with a message and a gift."
Azula raked her eyes over the small group: three soldiers in the uniform of the Phoenix King's personal guard, and one slave. All three were dwarfed by the large, ice-encased barrels on the rolling cart that they attended. A cool vapor was steadily rising from the ice, and Azula took the scroll which Ty Lee held out to her, burning through the seal and scanning it quickly until she reached the end:
I have sent with the emissaries two vats of the finest, freshest solution; rich and nourishing, of the best stock possible. The Water women produce it, and it is said that they are some of the strongest (if most brutish) women in the world, and tremendously fertile; it would do my mind much good if you were to take it as your bath for however long the supply will last; and be assured I will send more when I have found a fresh source. You might also add some to your tea, and see how you like it.
She paused in her reading to eye the slave, who was nervously running his hands over the ice. The letter concluded with a few lines of poetry, not her father's strongest suit:
The young blossom
Having fallen from the tree,
Returning, is twice as sweet.
Below was stamped the royal seal in red wax. He'd singed the insignia first, a token of both his power and affection. Azula brushed her fingertips over it briefly before rising and going over to one of the huge vats. She indicated that she wanted it opened and one of the soldiers scrambled over himself in his haste to obey her.
When the top had been pried off, an unmistakable odor filled the room. The waterbender looked nervous and ill, and the soldier who had assisted her placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, glaring at the slave in a threatening way. Azula licked her lips and swallowed, and drawing closer peered over the rim.
Oh, Father. Really, you shouldn't have.
The black-red surface trembled like water, but more slowly. She extended her smallest finger and skimmed it over the surface, catching droplets on her perfectly manicured nail. Bringing it to her mouth, she drew the nail over her lower lip. She could see her reflection, like a murky shadow, in the oily surface. The metallic taste rang her in mouth like a chorus of clear bells. Closing her eyes briefly in an expression of deep content, she gestured for the present to be taken away.
"Ty Lee. Go with them, and ensure that it's given proper storage."
For the sake of the guards who were watching, Ty Lee bowed, but Azula could see her disgust and resentment in the stiffness of her back and neck, and ground her teeth just perceptibly, letting the contortionist know her insolence would not be suffered.
When all had gone, and she was alone, she judged that she had only minutes before the scribes and Crone arrived, and she would need then to begin her reply. Holding her father's letter at arm's length, she considered what she could send him in turn. A small movement at the door to her inner chambers caught her eye, and she turned abruptly. Two pairs of blue eyes widened and vanished in the space of a breath.
It seemed Thuza had not trained this bunch as well as she'd originally thought. A shame, but…
"Somehow," she mused aloud, tossing the scroll on the chaise lounge and heading toward the inner chamber with blue flame at her fingertips, "I have a feeling that it's all going to work out."
The slam of the crimson door, etched in gold, echoed behind her.
