Chapter X
The Great Harbor was lost beneath an impenetrable fog. Malik shuffled along the slick stones as fast as the fetters would allow. Twice already he'd slipped and fallen face-first, but the pair of guards who walked alongside him only prodded him with the toes of their boots.
The guards rarely deigned to look at him, but when they did they wore the same mask of contempt that he'd seen on countless other faces throughout the trial. It was odd to be so despised by complete strangers. It was one of the few things Malik was certain he wouldn't miss.
The peal of a brass bell skipped across the water. Though Malik couldn't see it through the curtain of brume, the Tao would be moored at the farthest jetty. The Tao was a familiar sight in the Northern port throughout the year, and was no stranger to the transport of prisoners and exiles.
A pair of cloaked figures stood near the water's edge, one of them a head taller than the other. Both wore color-sapped cloaks that commingled with the gray mists. They would look like statues but for the fog of their breath. The taller one stirred. "A moment with the prisoner?"
"Shove off, old man." The left guard put a hand on the rawhide handle of his jawbone club. "You've got no business with such as him. Boy's a kin-killer in training." He prodded Malik in the tummy with the head of his club. Noxious breath seeped through his clenched teeth like effluvium from a sewer grate.
"Whatever damage that boy did to his father he learned from me." Steam billowed from Anik's flared nostrils. He tugged back his hood. "And since the two of you are no kin of mine, I would suggest holding your tongues in the presence of your betters." He whipped a hand through the air. He held it up for the guards to see the icicles that had grown from the tips of his fingers, curved and cruel and sharp.
The guards exchanged doubtful glances. Benders they might have been, but they also didn't seem stupid. "Very well," said one of the guards. "But be quick about it." The two men withdrew to the main pier, hands still clutched tight to their jawbone clubs.
Malik bowed to Anik with fist pressed to open palm. "Thank you, Sifu. You honored me with what you said yesterday."
"I meant every word. They may say I had some share of the blame in shaping you into such a ruthless little waterbender. Let them, I shall wear that blame with honor. I am only disappointed that you leave with so much of your training left unfinished." Anik reached within the folds of his robe and produced a long, narrow sack of cloth tied up with red ribbon. "While this is no substitute, it is all I can offer. Please accept it."
Malik hefted the object in his hands. "It's light," he said. He untied the lace ribbon and withdrew an exquisite erhu and accompanying bowstring. "Oh, Sifu. It's beautiful." The neck was wrought from a single piece of carved whalebone with hollowed turtle shell for the body.
Malik knew he could not take accept it. "I'm not worthy of such gifts, master. Besides, I don't even know how to play." He tried to hand it back to his master.
"Then find someone willing to teach you," Anik said, gently but firmly pushing the instrument back toward his former pupil. "You will be in the Earth Kingdom for some time. The least you can do is learn their music. I want to hear this instrument sing when you return."
"You will," Malik said. "And by the time I return, maybe things'll be different."
Anik pursed his lips. "Perhaps. But cold sustains, and the North is very cold. Change will not come easy without a thawing."
Luava had pulled down her hood. Her eyes were puffy and red, her lips pressed into a thin little line. She held out her hand and let a necklace dangle from her forefinger. A leather cord looped through the silvered stopper of a teardrop phial. "There's this, too," she said. "It's not much, I know. Carnival prize that I won it during the festival, before I'd heard what happened. And when I won it I'd thought of you, so…"
Malik took the phial and held it up. "It's gorgeous," he said. "Help me put it on?"
After she'd fastened it, Luava spun him by the shoulders and threw him into a bear hug. She squeezed so tight Malik worried his ribs might bruise all over again.
"Oof." He squeezed her back in retaliation, his arms wrapping around her like a wooden vice until she yelped her surrender. When they separated, her face was flushed. He gave her an affectionate kiss upon the cheek. "Keep care of Atka while I'm gone?"
"I will," Luava said. "You keep care of yourself, too."
Her gaze seemed to frost over. She stared off to some far point in space, as though she'd come at last to see the hard truths laid bare, and could not bear to look, and sought for solace in the immutable gray distance. She thinks this is the end for us.
"I'll find a way to write," he said. "I promise I will." He could see his resonated, and so he went on. "Pen pals! Soon as I end up somewhere decent and civilized, I'll tell you everything about everything. And you can write back, and we can talk just like always, only… only the conversations will take a whole lot longer. We're not gonna become strangers, Luava. We'll make this work."
"All right," Luava said. "Let's give it a shot." She relented with a smirk.
It was time. He gave her one last hug, one last peck upon the cheek. He was in the midst of a reverent bow when he heard his sister.
"Let GO of me!" Atka screamed. She stood at the head of the pier, struggling against the grip of the two guardsmen. She kicked one in the shin before spinning out and away from the other's loosened grip. Atka ran as fast as her little legs would carry her, but the guards were gaining fast.
Anik took two steps forward and swept his hand lazily. A pair of mighty waves dashed upon the jetty from either side, sending a shower of water down behind Atka. The two guards stood drenched in frigid water and strands of seaweed. Anik sent a creeping frost across the planks until the surface beneath the guards' feet had gone slick as glass. Anik's mouth twisted into a wicked grin, as if he was hoping for the guards to make a move. They wisely decided to withdraw a safe distance to focus on wringing out their drenched parkas and plucking the kelp strands from their collars.
Malik dropped to a knee. His sister charged into him at such speed that she nearly bowled over him.
"Father didn't want me to come," Atka said, gasping to catch her breath. "He told me to just forget all about you." Atka sniffled and wiped the moisture from under her nose. She took a moment to catch her breath. "He's so stupid! I don't care what he says anymore."
Malik cupped her cheek with his palm. "I should've figured nothing would stop you. I heard the ruckus you made during the trial. I'm glad you didn't get in hot water for it."
"Rash is what that was," Sifu Anik sniped, toward Atka. "A foolish thing to do, young one."
"He was lying, though." Atka crossed her arms and scowled at Anik. "Unnaq's nothing but a crusty blubber-lump."
"He is," Malik said. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, lingering long enough to whisper. "But sis, don't forget the promise we made. Remember what I told you, okay?"
"Right." She stuck out her lower lip, bashful. Her voice dropped a register and she whispered. "Yeah, that could've been bad, huh?"
"Yep," he said. "Pretty bad."
Atka bowed her head until her chin touched her chest. "I can't do anything right, can I? Even when I try to help, things only get worse. All this is because of me." She heaved a lungful of anguished air. "I'm never gonna waterbend again."
"You didn't know you could!" He put a crooked finger under her chin and gently coaxed her head up. " None of us knew. And I'm not about to let three old fishbats send you away for something you didn't know. The laws were set long ago, and a price has to be paid. I'm glad to pay it… for both our sakes." Malik looked over his shoulder, out toward the southern horizon. "I need to do this, Atka. I want to do this."
Atka didn't understand. "You want to leave?"
"No. Of course not. But you saw what Father did. What he was about to do. I can't live there anymore." He squeezed her shoulders gently. "It'll be better for you. You never disappointed him the way I did. You're exactly what he expects from a daughter. You're brave, strong, you did what you thought was right, and that makes me proud. Someday, it'll make him proud, too." He drew her into a tight hug and held her there.
"Now, don't get it into your head that this is forever, okay? It's not. I'm coming home one day," Malik said. "And until I do, I need you to be strong. For our family. It's what Mom would want." He blotted the tears on her cheeks with his mitten. "You think you can do that until I return, sis?"
"I don't know," Atka said. "I think so."
Malik popped the stopper on the phial Luava had given him, holding it up between them. "Well, I'm certain of it. So certain in fact that I don't think you'll be needing these 'til I get back." With a wave he drew the salty streaks from her face. Little droplets floated toward him like a stringless pearl necklace, filling the phial to the brim with the last of her tears. "Better let me hold onto them for now."
He knew he'd prolonged this long enough. Dropping to a knee, he kissed his sister once upon the forehead. "Time to go."
"Okay," Atka said, meekly.
By the time Malik shuffled onto the Tao, the three most important people in his life had faded into the mists. There was nothing else to see here. Malik found the meager hammock he'd been afforded by the unfriendly crew. To them he had no name other than 'that boy from the water tribe'. He fell down upon it and stared at the wooden railing, thinking upon everything he'd given up.
The wind grew more generous when they'd reached the open sea. The going was swifter than expected, but intimidating, too. Autumn oceans were notorious for their fickle nature and wild storms. Winds this strong could turn nasty at the drop of a hat. Unless food was being served, Malik stuck to his hammock and did not move. Thanks to some shrewd navigation, no squalls or storms fell directly upon the Tao, nothing too severe at least.
On the third day a crewman up top hearkened to land. Malik roused himself to witness the green coastlines and monolithic cliffs of his new home. He squinted against the sunlight and allowed his watery eyes adjust. The world seemed somehow brighter here, and the sights he beheld stirred up a sense of awe he'd not felt since he was still new to this world.
The coastlines stretched forever in either direction. Distant mountain ranges sprouted far as the eye could see, majestic crags of such height that the North's highest peak seemed more like a snowdrift in comparison. Between the mighty mountain ranges lay vast swaths of land drowned in green.
One of the friendlier sailors, a sea dog named Po, offered to row Malik toward the nearest village. Po had been a decent traveling mate. While most of the crew had treated him like an unwanted child, or worse, a waste of valuable cargo space, Po was different. The sailor did not consider himself a smart man, but nonetheless he was nonetheless an avid reader, and the chance of dabbling among different cultures had always appealed to him, even from a young age. Po spoke fondly of the water tribes, both north and south. It gave him perspective, or so he said.
Malik inquired about whether Po might deliver an occasional letter to the North. The jolly sailor could not have been more eager to accept. He gushed for ages about his far-flung romances, each one tinged with the same saccharine loss. "Ah, to feel young love again," Po mused. "Count yourself lucky, my boy."
He chose not to correct the sailor. When the longboat crunched against the sandy shores of the Earth Kingdrom, he disembarked said his goodbyes to Po. He stood there a while and watched as the longboat dwindled down to nothing. His life was of his own making now, his and no one else's. It was a terrifying concept. He stood there for who knows how long. Calm waves foamed about his ankles. Waves whispered in his ear. His thoughts found their way back to an old bit of air nomad wisdom he'd once stumbled upon in the Northern archives. The air nomads believed that a person who had reached their lowest point was open to the greatest of change. He could let his guard down here, be whatever he chose, whoever he chose. If there was ever going to be a right moment to make that leap, this was that moment.
So she chose to stop, do away with the tiresome charade, unravel the lies she'd tangled herself up in, the lies she'd told to keep herself safe. Safe from whom? Her classmates? Her father? Who was there left to hide from? No one but herself.
She was done with hiding, tired of playing a role in life that she'd never been meant to play. If she'd put this off any longer she might've even begun to believe the voices in her head, the ones still trying to convince her she'd ever been a he to begin with.
Ten thousand questions flooded her mind, enough to make her feel woozy. There were no instructions for this, no experienced adults with advice to offer. For all she knew, she was the only person like this in the whole world. Where was a girl like her to start?
Her wooden sandals were starting to chafe, so she kicked them from her feet. They landed on the water's surface with a muted slap. She dug her heels in, felt her naked feet sink deep into the warm, wet sand. She liked the way it squished between her toes. She watched her old sandals float atop the waves and bound over the foam like a pair of toy boats. When eventually the undertow gobbled them up, she looked down at the rest of the men's clothes she wore.
A widowed seamstress happened to live on the village outskirts. She convinced the older lady that a 'girlfriend' of hers was in need of new clothes, a friend with conveniently similar measurements. As it turned out, the lie wasn't really needed—the ailing seamstress seemed glad to work on anything other than tattered sails and frayed fishnets.
The garments ended up costing a quarter of her stipend, and they weren't even the most gorgeous thing to look at. She didn't care. Nicer attire could come later. What mattered was that she was wearing the clothes she'd always intended to wear. It was high time that she embraced that fact. She could no longer live without them. Now she just needed to learn how to live in them.
Her money dwindled further in the purchasing of a decent razor. Even here in the Earth Kingdom steel did not come cheap. The coin in her pouch didn't much concern her, though; she was certain she'd find some honest work sooner or later, and in order to do that, she would need to be both passable and presentable.
She retreated a ways down the coastline to a lonely estuary, far from any prying eyes. There she went about trimming her legs for the first time. She'd asked Luava a hundred questions about the practice, but had never dared to try it herself. If only Father could see me now, she mused. The corners of her mouth turned upward. Each scrape of the razor felt like fresh rebellion.
Things didn't go perfectly, but she took care enough to avoid cutting herself more than once. It felt strangely sexy to slide the razor down her skin, to feel the silkiness left in its wake. She ran a palm up and down her calf, marveling at her own handiwork. A cool breeze gave her tingles, and her bare skin prickled over with tiny bumps.
The tide had risen by a foot by the time she returned to the open shore. She found a round rock of decent size. She lay it gently atop the pile of folded clothes, the ones she wouldn't be needing anymore. Wrapping the clothes around the rock, she cinched it tight with her old belt rope. She hefted the bundle up to her shoulder and, with a grunt and heave, chucked it into the sea.
She sat there on the shoreline until the sun had gone down. Sunsets were a seasonal thing in the North, but here it was apparently a common occurrence. She wondered if she'd get sick of it. She listened to the call of distant birds, felt the salty air upon her skin, tasted it on her lips. Cool water tugged at her ankles as though the sea was begging her to bathe and be renewed. In a way it was true. She'd been reborn upon these shores. She could no longer see a future for that other life, the one she'd left behind in the ship's wake. Here she would make a new life, and a new life deserved a new name.
A new life...