Chapter 11 - The Autumn Tide Festival
They were on the bison for three days.
Not exactly an entire three days; Chian would stop occasionally while the eastern-most tip of Air Nomad land was still in reach – as Miyo explained, since he couldn't recognize one stretch of land from another. But she didn't stop at night, and once they passed the Moqui Strait, there was no stopping at all.
The break-neck pace made all their tempers flare. Or, rather, just Hikoshu's, as Miyo didn't seem to mind the hurry and Chian was always moody. But being stuck in the air, with nothing to look at but the center of the saddle, was bad enough. Being stuck like that for three days, without even a chance to move and dispel his natural desire to fidget, was driving him crazy.
The evening of the third day was when it turned cold. Really cold. So cold, that he dug through his satchels and wished fervently that he hadn't lost his cloak back at the library. The Fire Nation had nothing suitable for winter, and he hadn't brought any of his Air Nomad clothes.
Miyo, of course, stared at him, baffled. Air Nomad robes were surprisingly warm, and on top of that, most airbenders had a nearly inherent knowledge of how to keep the air around them near body temperature. Perhaps a skill from their lives on the steppes.
He didn't have that skill. And Miyo's apparent naivety was pushing his already strained temper to a breaking point.
His frustration mounting, he pushed the satchel away and rounded on her. "How are you not cold?"
Miyo blinked, as if only now aware that was his problem and surprised it had been an issue at all. "What? Cold?"
"Firebender," Chian spat from the front, the first word she'd spoken in several hours. Hikoshu turned a glare on her as he moved to the front of the saddle, his etiquette having died away days ago.
"This wouldn't be a problem if you'd just land somewhere so I can find a coat. Or if you'd land at all."
"And add time to the journey?" Chian retorted, though she didn't turn to look at him. "As delightful as spending another day in your company would be for me, I thought you'd be happy to arrive at the North Pole sooner rather than later." There was distinct sarcasm in her voice. "Seeing how weak your poor stomach is these days."
Hikoshu continued to glare at the back of her head. He didn't need to point out that his nausea was airsickness, and that a stop or two in the endless flight could only help. She knew, and it was probably the reason she didn't stop at all.
"Hikoshu, are you cold?" Miyo asked, drawing his attention back to her. "It's not cold out here." Confusion was plainly written on her face, her tattooed brow wrinkled with uncertainty.
"He's a firebender," Chian said in explanation, which only renewed his anger. "Fire Nation men act tough, but anything cooler than a mild winter, and they fall apart."
"But it's not cold," Miyo repeated, as if she could talk Hikoshu into being warm. "We have winters much colder than this at the Temple."
"I know." Hikoshu felt bullied by the two airbenders. "But I'm not often outside on a bison during the winters."
"But it's not cold."
"It's the sudden temperature drop!" Chian interjected before Hikoshu's raw nerves could be tested any further. "It feels colder than it actually is. Avatar, for the sake of my sanity, just warm yourself up."
Hikoshu was loath to do anything to save the woman's sanity, but he had to admit she had the right idea. So he rubbed at his arms, bringing heat to the surface of his skin. It only helped a little.
"We're just tired," Miyo said in a belated attempt to bring peace to the group. "We've been traveling for days, and I think we could all use a rest."
"You think you could use a rest?" Chian asked, her tone condescending. "Rosma's been the one flying. You haven't been doing anything at all."
Hikoshu's temper exploded. "Then can we please stop?" Miyo started at his outburst, while Chian glanced back at him with disdain.
"Rosma and I used to make this flight all the time to the Northern Air Temple. Are you suggesting that we're too old to do so again?"
"Whatever makes you land."
Chian reached forward to pet the bison, murmuring something under her breath. In response, the beast gave a rumbling groan, rattling Hikoshu as well as his stomach. Miyo watched him with a small frown as he clutched the saddle.
"Fine," Chian called back. "Rosma needs some sleep. We'll land at the next port we see."
Though she'd hardly seemed bothered by the endless trip, Miyo's expression melted into one of relief, and she leaned over the saddle as eagerly as he would've. Then they all lapsed into silence as the two airbenders searched, the deepening twilight punctuated only by the sound of their robes and Rosma's fur in the cold wind.
Eventually, Miyo sighted a town, though Chian apparently had trouble spotting the same thing. Doubtfully, she asked Miyo to come show it to her, and Miyo threw him a surprised look as she crawled to the front of the bison.
Hikoshu was equally surprised. Chian never asked for help.
Quiet set on them again, for which he was grateful. Rosma had begun his slow descent, and it took all of Hikoshu's concentration not to panic. Even though they'd landed many times before, the sensation still sent waves of terror through him, and he held tight to the saddle frame as clouds scattered around them.
When the bison finally hit the ground, jarring its occupants, Hikoshu was covered in sweat. Shaking, he scrabbled out of the saddle and fell, unceremoniously, onto grass. It took him a moment to calm himself enough to notice his surroundings, which he did on his back, staring up at the night sky.
They were apparently in a forest clearing, the tops of pine trees blotting out the stars. Rosma grumbled as Chian and Miyo both dismounted, much more gracefully, next to him.
"Perhaps you left the Temple too soon, Master Airbender," Chian muttered, moving to comfort Rosma. Miyo offered him a hand, but he waved it off and used his master airbending skills to push himself to his feet. It was rough, but he managed to do it without falling over. With a grin and a shake of her head, Miyo jumped back onto the bison, disappearing behind the saddle. A second later, her staff hurtled down at him, nearly catching him in the head.
"Go to the town, get what supplies you need," Chian instructed, her form hidden behind the massive nose of the bison. It bobbed its head and produced a loud snuffling noise, its tail thumping the ground hard. "Just don't lose your way."
"You're not coming?" Hikoshu asked as Miyo landed beside him again. One of Chian's hands appeared, waving them off.
"I've no desire to deal with Earth Kingdom people. I'm quite comfortable with sleeping out here."
"But will you be sa—?"
"She'll be fine, Hikoshu," Miyo whispered, pulling his arm hard enough to draw him away. "She's Chian. Who'd be crazy enough to bother her?"
He grinned at her, finally allowing her to lead him into the trees. Just being off the bison had improved his mood in bounds, and as the stiffness in his legs slowly faded, a strange weight lifted from his shoulders, too.
As an afterthought, he murmured under his breath, "You threw that stick at my head on purpose, didn't you?"
"Oh, come on, Hikoshu. It's a glider, not a stick."
Hikoshu laughed and produced a flame above his palm, the heat a wonderfully comforting feeling against his face. It also helped to dispel some of the wild, mysterious aura of the woods around them, and Miyo tucked herself under his arm to stay close to the fire as they trampled loudly through the underbrush.
Chian had landed a good distance from the village Miyo saw, and they walked for quite a while seeing nothing but whatever was in reach of Hikoshu's flame. Eventually, though, the trees thinned into a wide thoroughfare, empty this far from town. At its other end, the street was lit as bright as day, alive with noise and people, and Hikoshu threw Miyo a curious glance as he let his fire die out.
She wore a frown, though it was directed at him, her fingers plucking at the front of his robes. "You're going to stick out, coming from the forest dressed like that."
"I think I'll stick out anyway," he returned. It was true – three days on a bison with few opportunities to change meant that his Fire Nation clothes were wrinkled, dirty, and a little pungent. But there was no helping it now, and as they approached the other end of the street, the sight before them drew his mind away from any concerns over appropriate dress.
It was chaotic and brilliant, energetic despite the dark hour. People gathered in throngs, their clothes a mixture of deep emerald greens and burnt orange, light coats worn over robes that looked very foreign to him. They milled amongst each other, women, with their hair done up in elaborate braids and buns with showers of gold ribbon, laughing as they snatched at scampering children. The men looked on jovially under green-felt caps, flashing weathered grins when a new member wandered into their small groups.
Hikoshu scanned the entire scene slowly, feeling almost tiny under the multitude of glittering green lanterns that lined the street. Every storefront, though dingy and perhaps a bit worn by day, shone in dazzling color under those lights. And from their verandas, the masks of grotesque figures weaved in and out, adding an almost surreal atmosphere to the festival.
He had no idea what was going on.
"I didn't realize it was that time again," Miyo said, her tone full of surprise. He glanced at her for explanation, but she was already walking on gracefully through the crowd. Instead, he found himself watching a masked man dive at a child, shaking long orange sleeves haphazardly as he clucked like a chicken-hog. Hikoshu quickly followed Miyo.
"Where are we going?" he asked as he caught up, though he didn't know if she could hear him. The music had grown very loud, flutes and pipas floating through the rhythm of a deep drum, and all around them, men clapped and danced.
"Well, you're not going to find a cloak on the Festival of Di Chao, I think. So I'm going to look for someone who can help us."
"Di Chao?" Earth Holidays were, in fact, unfamiliar to him. He'd never traveled beyond the islands of the Fire Nation, his knowledge of the world only limited to what he'd read.
"The Tidal Festival," she said, smiling down at a boy who stumbled into the back of her legs. He looked up at her in surprise and, noticing her blue arrow with some horror, took off in the other direction. "They celebrate the coming of the autumn tide, which marks the beginning of the fish migration."
Hikoshu became aware that everyone had assumed the same trepid look as the boy, all nearby activity stopping as dozens of eyes followed them. "The autumn tide?" It hadn't even occurred to him, with the peculiar heat, how far they'd treaded into the late year. But even as she said it, he realized she was right. They were quickly approaching fall.
"I think they're looking at you," Miyo suddenly murmured. The music still played somewhere in the background, but most movement had ceased around them. Uncomfortable, Hikoshu led Miyo by the arm to the edge of the celebration, brushing past the onlookers. As soon as he had her under the veranda, he drew her up into the shadows and hopefully into anonymity.
"So they're having some kind of party?" Hikoshu asked in confusion, moving along the shade of the veranda. Miyo followed.
"It's just a yearly festival. I'm sure we can find someone who'd gladly give us a room. And some clothes," she added as an afterthought, her tone obviously suggesting he needed some. He stopped at the corner of the veranda and, rather than crossing the short alley, turned to her instead.
"So what's involved in this festival?"
Miyo frowned as she studied him curiously. "The usual things. Music, lanterns, costumes. And—"
She was interrupted by a groaning roar, the noise similar to a rockslide. Moments later, a dragon launched itself from around the corner, bursting past Hikoshu which such ferocity that he jumped back. The fanged creature, its face twisted into a grimace, continued on as if never seeing him, its blue and gold flesh writhing in the lantern light. Screams erupted from the crowd as men and women darted out of its path.
With a startled shout, he pushed Miyo away, sweeping one leg backward and lifting his fist. But before he could attack, Miyo gently cuffed the back of his head.
"It's just a costume!"
He stared at her in surprised, then took a second look at the monster. Indeed, with another glance, he could see that its horrible face was simply a painted mask, and its thousands of spindly legs had boots on the end of them. The serpent danced along lazily as the screams of the Earth citizens turned into squeals of delight.
"He's the Kiau-Li, a local serpent spirit who blesses their catch for the year," Miyo explained, pulling on his arm as the end of the dragon's tail snaked by. "They usually only bring him out during the New Year, though. I guess they needed him for the drought." She led him across the short alley and under the veranda of another building, though his eyes never left the large puppet. It growled and chased villagers along the fairway, its spines rippling behind it as if through water.
"You know a lot about this place," Hikoshu said, finally looking to her. She gave an indifferent shrug.
"I've been to these port villages before. They vary some, but most of the customs are the same." Before she had finished, his attention was already drifting back to the thoroughfare. The crowd had begun to assemble in its center, where a large, flat stage rose above their heads. The wooden platform was open on all sides, lit by two thin torches at either end. At that moment, a man disguised as a smiling demon was climbing onto it.
"Hikoshu," Miyo said sharply, bringing his gaze back to her. She didn't look too happy. "You've stopped listening to me."
"Oh…did you say something?"
She gave a sigh and shoved at his shoulder. "Just go, alright? Go watch the play, and I'll try to find the mayor or something."
"But—"
"Look, I know you want to enjoy the festival, and while I'd really like to enjoy it, too," she gave him a pleading look so that he'd understand her sincerity, "I'm going to get necessities out of the way first, alright?"
Hikoshu shifted uncomfortably. "So…I can go?"
"Yes!" She gave him another push off of the veranda and into the crowd. "Just try not to stand out until I come back."
Hikoshu stumbled against a green-hatted man, who gave him a defensive glare as he uttered an apology. But as he straightened, he realized he was easily half a head taller than the man, as well as everyone else. All of a sudden, it didn't seem so easy to blend in. His shoulders hunched, he snuck into the gathering.
Amplified by his mask, the voice of the actor grew clearer the closer he approached the stage. "Come! Join us as we present to you, the good people of Chirosan, the most tragic love story ever told!" His mask, a porcelain red-and-gold caricature of a smiling demon, seemed completely at odds with his words. His red robes swirled around him dramatically as he flung himself across the stage, gesturing grandly at the sky and then bowing deep to the stage. "The story of the Sun, the Mountain, the Moon, and the Ocean! The fateful tale of Tui and La!"
Hikoshu hid himself near the steps. It produced probably the worst view, one of the torches standing squarely in the way, but it allowed him to watch without being watched.
It also afforded him a closer look of the performers before they reached the stage. Each of the four was dressed in extravagant silk robes and wearing a mask exaggerated for the audience. The sun in its red garments hardly looked human, its bright orange face twisted into a half-snarl. In turn, the Mountain was a large, terra-cotta-faced man, his serene smile beaming coquettishly at nothing as he hobbled onto stage. Behind him, the Moon, in her blue silk robes, pulled the Ocean close behind her, his face set in a daring grin. A moment later, they were on the stage and away from him.
"Nice view," a low voice said to his right, its sarcasm unmistakable. For a second, he thought Miyo had come to taunt him, but he realized as he turned to the person that the Air Nomad's voice was far more nasal than that. The woman he saw instead was much younger than Miyo and about half a head shorter, draped in lavish green silk robes that seemed almost as extravagant as the Moon's. Her round face gazed up at the stage jovially, an ornate, oddly familiar tin headdress tied into her braided hair.
He studied her for a moment, trying to place her in his memory, then returned his eyes to the stage. "You're free to move."
"That's not the point," she responded, her voice still amicable even as it was sarcastic. "You could move, too, but you don't."
That was rather forward, and he frowned at her, suddenly defensive. "I don't like crowds."
"You picked an odd place to come to, if you don't like crowds."
He was stunned momentarily speechless, and he felt his jaw must be hanging. "Forgive me, if I made a mistake and I'm not supposed to be standing here. I really just wanted to watch the play alone."
The girl didn't even bother to look at him, a tiny smile playing along her lips. "You know, I kind of wanted to be alone, too. Don't suppose we could be alone together?" She finally turned to him, pinning him with large brown eyes that crinkled with her smile.
Hikoshu felt very discomfited, both from the bizarre statement and the eerie familiarity about the girl. She couldn't have been someone he knew at the Air Temple. Nor could she have been very old when he lived in the Eastern Isles. Still, he could've sworn he'd met her before.
"Do I know you?" If she was offended by the question, she didn't show it, her smile only widening in response. The little bells on her headdress jingled as she shook her head.
"If you did, I'm sure you'd remember me."
The response was so bold-faced, he was again rendered speechless. The girl was either quite confident or quite boastful, though he suspected it was a mixture of both. Uncertain how to respond to that, he simply turned back to the stage.
The play had already started without him, the Sun having taken command of the scene, and the large spirit's body weaved across the stage in time with the music. He turned away from Hikoshu, his hand gestures briefly lost.
"The tragic tale of Tui and La," the young girl said, her low voice floating over the silent hum of the intent crowd and the distant pipa accompaniment. "Ill-fated lovers. They fought the Sun and lost their freedom." He could almost feel her gaze. "But they found each other."
"I don't like tragic love stories," he found himself saying, even though he really just wanted to ignore the girl. "They're not romantic so much as tragic. Most of the time, they involve one or more parties dying or being seriously wounded, and I can't see anything very romantic about that."
"You've obviously never died in the name of love," she said quietly, and he looked at her, startled. Her smile was sincere, though he could barely detect a hint of teasing. "It's the greatest risk – losing what you love most. And taking that risk just to save what you love most is by definition a great romance."
"Well, I suppose our definitions differ a little, then." He was starting to feel the heat of the nearby crowd. Suddenly, a coat didn't sound all that appealing. "Besides, no one dies in this tale. Everyone ends up quite happy." He waved offhandedly at the coy figure of the Moon and her dashing counterpart as they dipped along the stage.
"You know the story of the Moon and Ocean?" It was her turn to be surprised, brows arched curiously as if almost incredulous of his claim. Hikoshu wasn't sure if he shouldn't be insulted.
"I've read a lot. And if I remember correctly, it has something to do with the Sun being jealous of their love, and the Mountain hiding them away in the mortal world. I'd be more certain, though, if I could watch the play." He made sure to stress the last part. She seemed to ignore it, one delicate eyebrow still arched sharply. "Anyway, they end up together, and no one dies. Hardly tragic."
They immediately lapsed into silence, affording Hikoshu a few moments of peace for the show. The Moon was currently rejecting the Sun's approaches, her head tilted away demurely under a fan, her body twisted toward the Ocean on the edge of the stage. In the versions he'd read, the Dragon would soon come to betray the two spirits' love affair, though apparently that role had been omitted in this play.
"Of course, you're wrong," his young neighbor said abruptly, dragging him from his preoccupation. Hikoshu turned to her, for a second thinking that she referred to his train of thought. "It's pretty tragic."
"What?"
"The play. You didn't think it was tragic," she reminded him gently, tilting her head in an almost patronizing fashion. Her mouth played at a grin, and he felt both irritation and embarrassment at the gesture.
"Then do tell, what's so tragic about it?"
"Well," she motioned toward the figures above them, "for one thing, the Moon and Ocean aren't happy. They've been exiled, after all. The story ends with their reunion, but they live in complete isolation from the rest of the world. They have to keep their love hidden forever."
Hikoshu grew exasperated. "Yes, but if they're so in love, wouldn't they just be happy with each other for all eternity? Would they really need anyone else?" A man, several feet away, shushed him with an angry glare, and he shrugged in apology.
"If you were in love, wouldn't you want to tell the world?" The young girl said, lowering her voice to a murmur as she leaned in to speak to him. Hikoshu had to duck his head in order to hear her. "Wouldn't you want everyone to know what you've found?"
"Why would I care what the world thought?" He rejoined quietly, turning his face up toward her. "I'm pretty sure I'd be happy enough just to see her—" The proximity of the girl surprised him, and for a moment, he lost his words, the familiarity of her dark gaze once more tickling his mind. Quickly, he straightened and abandoned his statement. "Really, women try to make everything much sadder than it actually is."
She snorted, using a delicate hand to hide the indelicate noise. "Oh, how right you are. Romance should be left to the men."
"Might be a good start."
The angry Earth villager shushed him once more, and Hikoshu realized some people were staring.
The young girl shook her head with a bemused grin, her eyes wandering across the shining costumed actors as they gestured grandly at the air. "I'm sure whichever woman falls in love with you, Hikoshu, will be a lucky lady."
"As I'm sure whichever man you fall for will have his ear talked off."
Again, the conversation died, and they both returned their attention to the show, an air of thinly veiled frustration between them. Except now he'd lost his place in the story and couldn't clearly follow it. The Mountain had just taken his position at the center of the stage, and somewhere far to the right, the band had begun playing an upbeat, almost comical tune. He watched humorlessly as the Mountain and a trained hog-monkey danced across the boards, something plaguing the back of his mind.
When abruptly he realized what it was. With a start, he turned once more to the girl, making sure to keep his voice low. "Wait! How did you know my name?"
She looked at him, her expression baffled yet obviously amused. Before she had the chance to answer, however, a hand grabbed Hikoshu's shoulder, causing him to jump.
And nearly to jab whoever it was in the stomach. His attack was easily blocked, and he found himself staring into Miyo's gray eyes. She looked rather tired, still gripping his shoulder while her other hand held his wrist tightly.
"Hikoshu, that was just pathetic." The airbender released him and proffered a length of drab brown wool, her staff tucked under her arm. "I don't think you were even trying."
"Well, there're only so many times a man can almost hurt someone before he starts learning to pull his punches," Hikoshu said as he took the fabric from her. "Is this my new coat?"
"Yes, but wait till you see how it fits before you thank me."
As he slipped the plain brown coat over his shoulders, the red-faced Earth villager who was innocently trying to enjoy his show hissed at them in reproach. Swiftly, Miyo rounded on him, giving him a stern frown that only looked more severe under that blue arrow. The man continued to glower but said nothing else. When satisfied he was done, Miyo turned back to Hikoshu.
"Some of that airbender pacifism?" he asked, shrugging uncomfortably. Miyo lowered the same frown on him.
"Hikoshu, don't make me regret my religious vows."
"The spirits know I've done that enough times." He gave her a half grin, and a smile threatened to break her frown. But resolutely, she maintained the expression and pulled the coat tight across his chest. It had the desired effect of making him wince.
"The mayor knows you're here now, so I expect you'll have to make a speech," Miyo said under her breath, straightening the material as best she could. Hikoshu winced again, but not because of physical discomfort. "Please try not to embarrass yourself? It reflects badly on me." She was only half-joking.
"Remember the speech I gave at last New Year?"
"Yes, that's exactly the one I'm remembering." She finished her primping with a sigh and stared up at him hopelessly. "If only the spirits had blessed you with word-bending."
"Then maybe no one would notice how I'm dressed?" Hikoshu turned in order to admire how absolutely hideous the brown coat really was. It barely reached past his waist at all. Miyo gave him a chastising look as she picked lint off his shoulder.
"You shouldn't focus on vanities and material appearances."
"I'm sorry, I'll just focus on verbal pleasantries, then."
"Don't be snide. The mayor is on his way over here."
Just as she said, a man was moving in their direction, wending his way through the crowd. He seemed to be exactly what Hikoshu would've expected, a middle-aged villager who walked with an air of self-importance and dramatic concern, as if the happiness of every person in attendance rested on him. His beard was cut in what was probably fashionable locally – a thin wisp of hair framed by two even smaller tendrils hanging from his chin. Hikoshu would have said it looked silly, but his own days-old stubble probably looked far worse. He could certainly say the man was dressed better than him – his silk chartreuse robes hung practically to the ground, the gold-leaf hem bouncing over slippered feet as he walked. The man fit his part as mayor better than the actors and their respective roles. And Hikoshu couldn't fault him for taking advantage of the festivities to display his office.
"Avatar!" he cried delightedly, spared the grievances of the frustrated Earth villager by a sudden burst of applause. Hikoshu glanced up at the stage and saw the actors bowing politely; somehow he'd missed the entire play.
Miyo gave a proper bow as he approached, pressing one fist into her open palm. "Master Avatar, this is Mayor Hano. Mayor Hano, I'm pleased to present you to Avatar Hikoshu." Hano's bow was deep, his decorative gold hat nearly falling off his head. Uncertain, Hikoshu simply mimicked Miyo's gesture, and once more regretted that no one had taught him proper manners for a foreign dignitary.
"We are honored to have you here tonight, Avatar," Hano said, his words full of sincerity. But his expression as he glanced over Hikoshu's outfit was one of pure horror. He must've been sorely tempted to ask the particular reasons for such an appearance, but respectfully held his tongue. "In fact, we are quite blessed to have both of you here." Hikoshu could only assume the mayor meant Miyo, as well. "I hope you'll stay with us for the rest of the festivities. There will be food and dancing all evening long."
"I haven't really experienced the food portion of the night yet," he said regretfully with a look of longing toward the crowd. Away from the mayor's view, Miyo pinched him hard.
Hano, in turn, gave him a weak smile. "Yes, well, if you'll excuse me for just a moment, I must make an address. But afterward, I'll be sure to direct you to some of our local flavors." He then swept past, leaving Hikoshu to mouth the words local flavors to Miyo with some doubt. For the first time that evening, Miyo cracked a grin.
As Hikoshu turned, he spied the mayor pausing to speak to the young girl behind him. A moment later, Hano was mounting the stage just as the actors were removing themselves from it. The girl watched him go with a pleasant smile then looked to Hikoshu. And much to his surprise, she winked at him.
"Miyo, see this girl beside me?" he whispered in a conspiratory tone, leaning toward his friend. With a preoccupied frown, she glanced not-so-subtly over his shoulder. "Do you recognize her?"
"Am I supposed to?" But at that point, the mayor had started talking, and her attention immediately left him.
"Good people, with a heart full of gratitude, I join you in welcoming the conclusion of another fruitful season for our village!" The mayor gestured almost as dramatically as the actors currently disrobing somewhere out of sight. His long sleeves brushed at the stage as he bowed, and vocal applause floated up from the crowd. Following this happy declaration, he straightened and assumed a more somber tone. "Though I know, as well as you, that this year has not been so bright as preceding years." The happy cheers faded. "Yet we have enough food to survive another harsh winter, and we have enough hope to last until the fish return. This causes me happiness, and on the night of the Tidal Festival, I give thanks to the Ocean and the Autumn Moon for what they have provided all year."
The cheers started up again, but Hikoshu's interest had already waned. It wasn't that he didn't care for their plight – he remembered enough hungry seasons in his former port town home, as well as the festivals that accompanied them. But he wasn't very good with speeches, neither in giving them nor in listening to them. Too often, he was distracted by just about anything that provided more stimulus.
Currently, that 'anything' included the faces of those who listened more intently than he. As their attentions were fully devoted to their leader, the villagers now stood in one place, making them easier to observe. Most of them were women, the men gathering on the outskirts of the audience as if suddenly caring about the stage. Children were nowhere to be seen – he suspected that there was too much food and dance to be had for them to listen to a boring speech. As if in response, he heard the loud, familiar pop of a firecracker some place beyond the crowd.
What he didn't hear was the band, which had respectfully ceased playing for the mayor. He could see the musicians now, tucked under an eave on the other side of the stage, their instruments held idly at their sides. Like everyone else, they were dressed in vivid greens and gold. It seemed an odd combination of colors for such an event – the Sun, to him, was gold. And this was obviously not a ceremony for the Sun.
"…we do have an honored guest tonight." The mayor's words filtered through his mind, and Hikoshu jerked his eyes warily back to the stage. "Someone who has traveled far, and had just enough time to enjoy the festival with us. Really, we are quite lucky to be honored by such a person – a bright light in these troubled times." Hikoshu's stomach squirmed unpleasantly, just as it did before any public speech he made. More so this time, though, as the nuns were used to his embarrassing antics. These people weren't. Throwing a quick, unhappy look to Miyo, he prepared to mount the steps.
"May I present to you Yan-lin, daughter of General Gi-Luon of the Western Mountain Front, consul and delegate to the Northwest Territories under the grace of King Du Gong of Omashu!"
By the time Mayor Hano had finished the lengthy introduction, Hikoshu had already realized that the man was not speaking about him, and had backed away as his younger confidant moved up the stairs, a half-amused grin on her face. He looked uncertainly at Miyo, who shrugged at him with a similar smirk. Sighing, he retired to his original spot, his anxiety replaced by embarrassment.
"At least you know who she is now," Miyo murmured under her breath as he approached, eyeing him slyly. He began to form a retort, but cut off at an abrupt thought. In fact, the name did sound familiar. He had met General Gi-Luon once years ago. And his daughter had accompanied him.
That's who she was.
The dusky, youthful features of the girl now took on a new shape as she bowed eloquently to the mayor and then to the crowd. If he squinted a bit, even in the green jade lanterns, he could see the same unique child who'd spoken to him only briefly three years before. She looked much older now, a little bit taller, and apparently holding a lot more authority. With one slender hand, she ended the polite applause of the crowd.
"I thank you for your kindness, both from Honorable Mayor Hano and from this wonderful town." She almost seemed comfortable on the stage, long silk sleeves swinging as she gestured toward the appropriate community leaders who must be acknowledged. "His Holiness Master Cleric Jongsu, Distinguished Captain Luo of the Home Guard, and, of course, the Venerated Town Eldermen – all of you, I thank for the hospitality you have shown me." Every name was answered with applause. Hikoshu's attention, however, had begun to slip away again, his singular focus on how the girl above him had changed over the years.
"I arrived in Chirosan three days ago, just in time to enjoy the Tidal Festival of which this town entertains such great fame. And I hope I may candidly admit that the women of your village make the sweetest moon cakes in the whole of the territory." Chuckles and cheers at the positive recommendation. "But I don't believe I've been called upon to declare what you, dear countrymen, already know to be true. In fact, I suspect that your esteemed Mayor has decided to bestow upon me the honor – and truly it is quite an honor – of introducing someone far more exceptional than I. A person who is indeed a legend, destined to bring about the peace for which we so desperately yearn. My dear people, may I surrender the stage reverently to His Eminence, the Fire Avatar Hikoshu, successor to the Earth Avatar Sidhari, successor to the Water Avatar Kwandek."
The awed surprise of the crowd was mirrored halfheartedly by Hikoshu, who stared up at the stage with some horror. Despite mild disappointment, he'd honestly thought he'd narrowly escaped the impending disaster that his public appearance would be. Once more, however, his stomach churned.
But the girl – Yan-lin – was already bent low at the waist, moving from the center of the stage in deference. A look to Miyo was fruitless. She was also bowing, though her broad smirk spoke volumes. Slowly, he mounted the steps, pulling at the sleeves of his old brown coat.
Luckily, no one saw him at first. They were spread out along the perimeter of the stage on all sides, every face turned toward the ground in a mass genuflection. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat and tried to assume his most august posture, folding his hands serenely before him.
He didn't need to see their faces fall – he could hear the collective gasp of dismay across the crowd as they rose. Shooting a clandestine look at Miyo, he coughed once more and airbended his voice into a projected shout.
"In turn, I would like to thank the dignified diplomat Yan-lin for her kind introduction," he said, bowing his shoulders politely to her. She returned the gesture. "And of course, the Honorable Mayor Hano for allowing me to experience these festivities with you. And his Holiness…Master Cleric…" Try as he might, he couldn't dredge up the name of the cleric, and he cursed himself for not paying closer attention. "Master Cleric, the Distinguished Captain, and others of great dignity and virtue who have allowed all of us to enjoy…these festivities."
There weren't claps following his introductions. Just very puzzled silence. He imagined they had expected a handsome man riding in a sedan of flames, his beaming visage flashing a grin, and leaving a charmed message for those honored enough to hear it. But what they had was him. Dark. Dirty. Scruffy. And bearing a particular odor redolent of bison sweat.
How painful the truth.
"I do not wish to keep you further with boring speeches—" even as he said it, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Implying that his hosts may have been making boring speeches themselves. "My own boring speeches, that is. As I'm quite honestly a boring person." Self-effacing. That had to be good. "And so I ask you all to return to your merriment and enjoy this holiday of the…" What holiday was it? Someone had said something about fish migrating. Or was it tides? "…tides. Holiday of tides."
He was prepared to dart off the stage, no matter what ceremony demanded. But Yan-lin grasped his arm, bowing her head.
"Master Avatar is humble. However, I must ask on behalf of these kind people that you may entertain our curiosities. You see," from his height, he could only see the top of her jangling headdress, though her voice was loud enough for everyone to hear, "the people of Chirosan enjoy the simple delights of fireworks. Unfortunately, Fire Sages do not travel frequently through this area and they've not seen fireworks in quite some time. So, please, if you would do us the honor of showing what a truly great firebender you are, it would certainly make this quite a memorable Autumn Tide Festival." Ah, now he remembered the name.
There were only two things that Hikoshu excelled at. Well, three, including his unrivaled mastery of Pai-Sho offensive strategy. But primarily two: getting out of airbending practice, and firebending. Seeing as political rhetoric was not among his skills, he was quick to oblige Yan-lin's request. If he couldn't impress anyone with his presence, he could certainly impress them with some amazing fire displays.
The young woman's words had renewed the crowd's interest, and trepid cheers urged him on. Though the response was at best anxious, it was still enough encouragement for him, and Hikoshu moved back toward the center of the stage. Yan-lin gave him a delighted smile and once more stepped into the background.
"Hikoshu," Miyo said in a warning voice somewhere below him, and he dropped his gaze to her at the bottom of the stage. She looked up at him sternly from beyond its edge. "Remember there's a drought."
She was telling him to be mindful of the flames. The request was reasonable, yet he felt slightly offended. Of course, he would be careful. Fire was difficult to keep under control, but he was the most powerful firebender in nearly five centuries – had been such since he was almost sixteen.
He gave a sharp nod to acknowledge the request, then returned to his stance. The crowd stood with bated breath, waiting for his next move. He paused a second more, ordered in a loud, firm voice, "Everyone, stand back!" Then gave them a performance of a lifetime.